When I am gone from the blog for so long, the first post back is always dreadful. I’ve been starting posts in my head for over a month now, so when I sit down and finally write it is a mix of twenty posts floating around, no cohesive thread to be found.
So man, I really bagged NaBloPoMo. It wasn’t intentional, it was Thanksgiving day and I was just exhausted and not at home with my laptop, so I didn’t even think about it until the next day. At that point, I was relieved. I was so sick of myself, really. I love the idea behind NaBloPoMo, but my little new-mommy brain was not up to the task. I figured I would give myself a week and then come back, and then a week turned into several, and then Christmas was here . . . you know how it goes. I guess this is why I could never be a professional blogger, I lack the stamina.
Our first Christmas with Fiona was amazing, and lightening fast. It felt like a marathon. B and I were having trouble getting the Christmas spirit due to the crippling financial situation. I know that the spirit is not about monetary things, but it was hard to be in that place when we are spending so much time calculating and budgeting. I felt like there was a lot of (admittedly self-imposed) pressure on making it The Best Christmas Ever, when in reality Fiona slept through most of the gift opening and is, you know, a newborn. It was an amazing Christmas in the end, and we found our spirit on Christmas Eve and woke up Christmas morning looking at our baby and feeling like the luckiest poor people you’ve ever met.
We decided to stay home on New Years Eve, since we had been running so much the week before. We went to The Best Friend’s house for dinner and then watched movies and cursed the neighbors who let off fireworks and almost woke up the baby.
And then, New Year’s Day I got the email that my aunt who had been struggling with lung cancer had died the night before. I kept thinking, the New Year can’t start like this! Day 1 and I am shedding crocodile tears. Ah, foreshadowing.
The next morning, my phone rang (I had left it downstairs) and my the first thing my mom asked is where I had been all night. I knew that couldn’t be good. The night before my dad had become very ill very quickly, and they had to call 911. He was in the ICU, which has never happened before. Day 2, more tears. When I saw him that day he was lucid but sick, and I sat by his bedside and knit and read and listened to the beeps and hisses of machines, and things quickly progressed to dire. The next day my mom called choked with tears and said the doctor had told her his kidneys were failing and this was likely fatal. I didn’t even cry at first, just focused on the logistics of getting someone to watch the kids so that we could all get there as quickly as possible. I didn’t cry until until I called B and I said, “It’s not good. I need you” and without asking a single questions he said, “I will be right there.” As I ran around the house trying to pack Fiona’s bag I was struggling to breathe. It was like the whole thing took the air out me, I was panting and wailing and just thinking that I was (am) not ready for this.
The next days are a blur. I felt like it wasn’t time for him to go, but then I saw him and thought that maybe I was just in denial. The doctors were standing in front of us, asking us about his end of life wishes. When he was on Hospice he had signed a DNR, which complicated things a bit because since then he had improved and would most certainly want to be resuscitated. There is a fine line between starting someone’s heart again and keeping them alive with machines, however, and as the doctor was talking and looking at me all I could think was am I in charge? If I am in charge we are in so much trouble.
And then, miracles. Every day more improvement, and then like it never happened, he is home. It scared the crap out of all of us, and I am so thankful it turned out the way that it did.
I just want to tell you about Fiona. An entry with no other drama, just how amazing she is. The dimple in her cheek, the dimples in her knuckles, how beautiful she is, how I can’t believe how lucky I am. She is growing so fast, I can hardly believe my eyes some days. She bounces in her little bouncer, and plays with toys, and eats oat cereal . . . not a newborn anymore. That entry is coming soon, because man, she is changing so fast I have to get some of this down.
A few of you have sent messages asking if I am okay, and I just think that is the nicest thing I’ve ever heard. Even though I suck at this blogging gig, you guys are still out there. I would worry if you were gone too, I love the give and take of mutual readership. So thank you, and yes I am okay, relatively speaking. You know, besides the crippling poverty and critically ill father. 🙂