So, I Got a New "Job"......

Today is day three of my new job. Like most employees experience at their first week of work, it’s hard to decide what to wear, it’s anxiety-ridden, stressful and I don’t really get to talk to my boss or co-workers until the end of the day. My new job, for the time being, is Stay-at-Home Mom (SAHM).
      If you do the math, the time on “the job” might not be adding up; after all MiniMe is actually 3-1/2. It’s just that last Friday was the final day at a job that I’ve held for a quarter of my life. I started there just a few days after graduating from college and have worked there for the past 11 years; and now here I am. This change wasn’t a decision that I made on my own, I’ve joined the ranks of many Americans who have been downsized- my position was eliminated.
      I am terribly sad about that chapter of my life ending. When you hear people talk about loving their jobs, well, I was one of them. I mean I really, really, really LOVED my job, it was a huge part of who I was. I put every ounce of effort into it and my reward was…. Well, this and it truly is bittersweet.
Before I actually had MiniMe, we didn’t even discuss me staying home with her- I wanted to work, in fact I needed to work- not just for the money, but for the self-fulfillment and personal enrichment. I felt like a well-rounded person working AND being a mom (yet, I always tried to find better work/life balance- go figure?!!!?) We also were blessed that our arrangements for daycare were not only free, but with Anti-Latte’s mom, so Mini was in the loving care of her grandma every day. And this, is why I didn’t feel guilty for working- well, once or twice when she was sick… but how lucky were we?
      She will still spend many days at her grandma’s house for several reasons- she gets to see her cousins every other day, I still have some other commitments that will necessitate daycare as well as the fact that Grandma K is a recent widow and MiniMe is a great diversion and excellent therapy. I also don’t want to completely interrupt her schedule should I be fortunate enough to find my next wonderful job sooner rather than later. Also, we will be enrolling her into pre-school this Spring. Yeah, you’re thinking, “She’s not a real SAHM.” You’re right; I have no clue what I am. I’m stuck in emotional limbo of being completely devastated about being laid off to feeling some excitement to getting to spend more time with my family. How cool is it that for the first time since I was 12, I don’t have a work commitment? How sad is it that I don’t have a work commitment? How awesome is it that I can stay at home with my child? How freaked out am I about staying home with my child? Will I get bored? Will we all still like each other at the end of the day? (Oh, c’mon- you’ve experienced those weekends where you couldn’t wait to get back to the office!) What will I wear? No, seriously. I walked into my closet over the weekend and broke into hysterics upon seeing my work wardrobe. I think I have more pajamas than I do casual clothes (and I refuse to venture out of the house, on purpose, in my pajamas). So, I wore yoga pants, and went to the gym twice in the past two days-- this coming from someone who only set foot in the gym twice all of last year. It’s something that I CAN control at this point so I’m relishing it.
      The loss of a job feels like a death- and I’ve gone through most of the stages of grieving over it, not in order and I'm sure I'm not done with it. It is extremely personal. A part of me is gone now and I’m not sure what to do. I’ve started with a very lofty to-do list- things that I’ve always wanted to get ‘around to,’ organizing the CD collection (seriously- I want them all on iTunes so I can pitch the clutter), watching 68 64 episodes of “The Closer” on my DVR; you know, really important things.
        I’ve done most of the work to get ahead of this- my resume is so polished (so explain, why isn’t anyone calling!?) as is my LinkedIn profile, I’ve already applied for unemployment insurance (this will be interesting!) and I’m starting to network. I very much want to take my wonderful husband’s advice and try to enjoy this time, it’s just weird. Not having to go in to an office on any given week day. That’s one thing on my list though- organizing my office- creating an organized nice one to ‘commute’ to when I’m job hunting or working on my direct sales business (who knows! That’s a great focus point too- did you know that there are many women in this country who make six figures work in direct sales?- watch me!) There will be good days- those packed with enough errands and appointments to keep me busy; and then those days where the thought of my ‘former’ life will bring me to instant tears. Many benefits of being out of work- less money for gas or lunches on the go, dealing with commuter traffic, dry cleaning bills, great coffee from my Keurig; and then the downfall- my boss is super demanding- but when she throws those grubby little hands around my neck and says, “I love you Mommy!” it brings me back to reality and I take a deep breath and think that this might be the best job ever.

The Avalanche Continues....

(I'd prefer to title this My Life is a Shitstorm, but to avoid being moderated I decided to use some filter)
There are not enough martinis or lattes to help me through the hardships that has fallen upon my family.   
      Trust me, I'm not a 'woes me' kind of girl and am one to tend to see the glass as half full but there's just a point in your life where you have to say ENOUGH. I'm waving the red flag now, unfortunately, my surrender will have to wait a bit longer.
     My mom has been hospitalized with a long-term illness since March 7th- nearly two months of daily hospital visits and holding my breath whenever the phone rings. For the most part the journey has been emotionally taxing, not to mention one that took a toll on my job, my home-based business, my husband, my daughter, my friendships and even my health.  It's been a roller-coaster ride that I would very much NOT like to repeat in this lifetime; unfortunately it's getting worse. 
      I underwent my very first invasive surgery last week (the same day mom had a tracheotomy!)- had to have a cholecystectomy- a fancy medical term for gall bladder removal. Okay, so I wasn't even quite sure what a gall bladder did until it kicked me in the ass, er, rib cage a few weeks ago.  I was leaving the hospital after visiting with Mom and had the inclination to walk myself into the ER on my way to the parking lot, but that hospital wasn't my provider. After agonizing at home for a few hours, and a call to the advice nurse, we dropped Mini off at the grandparents and went to the ER.  The nurse called it on the spot- I guess fluffy (not so much anymore) white females of childbearing age present for gall bladder disease quite commonly. I thought I was going to give birth again. Quite painful. After a five hour stint, I was released with pain meds and a follow-up appointment for an ultrasound. The ultrasound did in fact determine that I had gall stones and would need a surgical follow-up. Fortunately, I wasn't harboring an infection and didn't need emergency surgery, but would have to watch my diet.
      This is something that is normally caused by a fat-laden diet, which mine is not. I am not a fast-food junkie- my idea of fast food is in fact Subway.... well there is that pregnancy craving of an occasional crumb cake donut- so what if I've had 32 months to do so.  I suspect that it was a rapid weight loss with the stress of my Mom's medical situation that caused my gall bladder to produce enough stones to fill up more than half of its capacity. Meanwhile, I've been off of my feet to recover and Anti-latte had to fill in my spot to go visit my mom, and his step-dad and take care of Mini and take care of me. I swear that I was as low maintenance as possible. Even after the second 11-hour ER visit (long story- I'm fine, but a bit pissed at said hospital's lack of ultrasound techs during the night shift). I'm recovering although a bit slower than I had hoped- I suspect an inordinate amount of stress has been a factor.  What's more stressful than a loved one being hospitalized and undergoing the knife yourself? Oh just a the fact that I hate CANCER.
    My father-in-law has been battling a very nasty bout of pneumonia, well, since my mom was hospitalized, actually, and an infection on top of that. He visited my mom at the hospital when she was on her deathbed and it prompted him to quit smoking cold turkey. Between being ill and the smoking cessation patch, he has been really miserable and after several weeks and numerous doctors appointments, he has been diagnosed with lung cancer.  After his initial diagnosis he had to wait for almost two weeks to meet with an oncologist to find out that it was Stage 4, and that is had spread to his liver, lymph nodes and more. As I write, Anti-latte and his mom and other family members are awaiting a visit from the hospital chaplain to discuss the plan to discharge his to hospice to live out his final days. We thought it would be months, but there's a chance that it could be just hours..... so fast. It was like he was playing with Mini one day and unable to walk the next. Now he is suffering and everyone sits by to support him.  It's torturous. I love this man and know how the family feels- the waiting and pleading is all too fresh in my memory from seven weeks ago. Now we just hope that with enough medical intervention, they can keep him comfortable. We'll surround him with all the love that he needs while we await him earning his wings.  I know that Mini will miss him dearly and we'll ensure that she won't forget the man who claims that she has his eyes.... (um, no, but it was always a source of laughs at family get togethers.)
     This presents an additional problem with child care as they were my main providers- we can wing it for the next week while I'm on medical leave and then have to figure out what to do next. Mini's grandmas' #1 priority should be caring for her husband... I think I have it figured out, but it's yet another stressor to deal with.
     And if that isn't quite enough to make anyone crazy, there's more.  We've had two other family members who had to make ER visits within the last 12 hours; and my mom was moved to another care facility that is a 40-minute drive away. It's a step-down rehab unit to prepare her for surgery, still a hospital, but the drive is going to be so very inconvenient. I used to work out that way and don't look forward to the daily commute, but we do what we have to do. It's just another wrinkle.... as usual, I'll iron it out..... your good vibes and prayers are much appreciated.
    

Day 42: Guilt

I smiled my ass of on Sunday; despite all of the medical drama going on with our family, I painted my face all up and trekked to the city- sans-MiniLatte to enjoy dinner and a concert with my hubby. It was a blast, and I feel guilty as shit. I know I shouldn't, however, according to my therapist, it's a very common emotional response to an experience such as mine.  It's called survivor's guilt and is actually a form of PTSD. Even though there wasn't a shared event between us that landed my mom in the hospital and not me, this extended hospitalization is a traumatic event that is dramatically shaping our lives and I have to cope with the fall out and the emotions that go with this. Trust me, I've been doing my share of bargaining to wish my mom healthy again.
    Back in February, with just a little under a week to go until Mom came for her visit; I had one of those red-letter days- work was fantastic; the weather was summer-like and I came home to two e-mails; one congratulating me for getting picked for a Meet & Greet with Blake Shelton at his upcoming concert, and the other with pre-sale tickets for one of my favorite bands- Train- for their San Francisco tour. I was beyond excited.  I frantically called my mom until she picked up the phone because I was so excited to share all of the good news. Not that any of it benefited her, but because she is always so supportive of me. As usual our phone conversation was uplifting and filled with laughter- we could do that, make each other laugh over nearly anything, our sense of humor are very similar (is that genetic??!!). 
    There have been so many celebratory events since she went in the hospital- St. Patrick's Day, our ten year anniversary; her 62nd birthday, Easter that have been low key and glazed over.  All-out celebrating just doesn't feel right, nor do I have the energy. We've also managed to go to two concerts and a basketball game during this time.  The outings are much needed distractions and although fun, I spent most of the time feeling guilty for attempting to have a good time while my incredible mother is bed-ridden, a prisoner in her own body..... I'm somewhat rational and realize that my presence either in the hospital or elsewhere isn't going to change the outcome of her prognosis for that day. It just doesn't feel right to be having a good time either; it also doesn't feel right to wallow in negative emotions. There isn't a happy medium right now- if there was, I'd give anything to find it- I'd give so much more to wave a magic wand and make her instantly better.
   I also know that if she could talk, my mom would tell me to laugh, smile and play.  She wouldn't want me to be missing out on living and in fact is probably feeling like shit herself for thinking that I'm sacrificing for her. I am, but that is just something that you do for someone that you love so very much.  I know that if this situation  instead was myself and MiniLatte, I would tell her to go, live, laugh, play.
     I also have a hard time with the conversations with her- I used to talk to her when I was stressed before and she would tell me that she wished she could be right there with me.  Well, now she is, but she isn't.  Is she thinking that, and it's having a detrimental effect on her emotional well-being? I tell her a story and she cries. She can't tell me why- it breaks my heart. I can't even really talk about the weather.... It's exhausting. What should I do......

Dear Blog: There's a Reason You've Been Neglected

II haven't blogged for awhile; I haven't really had the inspiration, or the time. Life with a newborn is infinitely more time consuming- sometimes hard too- than I had ever imagined. I guess I really didn't think about it- it took some energy just to get through the pregnancy- I shuddered to think about how BabyW was actually going to come out or what to do after. So, here I am seven weeks past the birth day, and seven weeks un-pregnant. Your body just doesn't instantly "snap" back to normal. (Speaking of snap: bless my 19-y/o sisters' heart, she thought the vajay-jay just instantly snapped back to it's former size, er, shape.) The road to recovery has been a little bumpy- both physically and mentally. Personally, it *bleepin'* sucked; and I'm a bit p.o.'ed that no one every told me that the recovery was awful.... their stories stopped at labor and delivery. Albeit, every Mommy has a completely different experience (and I often stuck my fingers in my ears and sang, "la la la la" when they did try to tell me a birthing story)- mine was uncomplicated and pretty normal. And that is where uncomplicated ended.....


For the past few weeks, I haven't been my usual self... although that was suspect ever since we saw two pink lines.... hormones much? Prior to conceiving, I was pretty mellow and low-key; a social butterfly to say the least. I'd heard of the "baby blues" and wasn't surprised of my crying jags for the first few days thanks to raging preggo hormones. Problems sleeping (go figure- a newborn) and fatigue and minor anxiety are also pretty normal for as much as two weeks. Unfortunately, here it is over seven weeks later, and I am still having the same symptoms in addition to changes in appetite, no desire to participate in favorite activities (including Law & Order reruns or my beloved blog!) uncontrollable crying jags, overwhelming anxiety and feelings of inadequacy as a mother. I am part of the 25% of new moms that suffer from Postpartum Depression (PPD). And being so uncomfortable in my skin, and seeing Jason's concern, I decided to seek help. With that said, it's unfortunate that I am just a minority of those that have chosen to seek help for this (my counselor says that the rate of PPD is much higher, just differs in severity and cases reported). Mind you looking in the mirror and admitting that something was wrong has been very difficult- I've always been the strong one, the friend that people lean on during crises, and used to seeing the glass as half full. PPD has completely changed that and makes you feel like you are walking through life in a thick fog. But, I wanted to change that and to be able to really start enjoying my precious new daughter and what's left of my maternity leave.

I don't know if it started with the unexpectedly early, well, earlier than I thought (I always figured that she would arrive early, but not after only one day of maternity leave!) delivery; a labor that was uncharacteristically NOT like the one I had imagined; guilt over dismissing my poor mom from the hospital (we're past this...) or raging hormones; but I've felt off kilter since little Kiera arrived. And in all honesty: although I love my daughter with every fiber of my being, I did not love what I'd experienced so far of motherhood. And then I was feeling guilty for NOT loving motherhood; we've been trying for years for little Kiera and here she is..... what is wrong with me. I wanted to go back to work after week four because it was familiar and seemed much easier than my 'mom' job. I remember sitting in the bathroom (when Kiera is a bit fussy she calms down listening to the running water) with a crying baby in my lap, crying myself and thinking, "What am I doing? What did I get myself into?" And then I felt guilty. What the hell? Within the last year, six of my friends have had babies and they were great moms; they didn't have Postpartum Depression... why me? Why after sailing through 37 weeks, this? (The pregnancy or delivery isn't any indication of if someone is going to have PPD.)

After my six-week check-up with my OB, and a timely phone call from a friend who is a nurse in women's health whom both referred me to a Postpartum Support Group run by my health plan. It was comforting to listen to other women who were feeling very similar to me, including three moms' who had additional children. I didn't feel so alone or ashamed of my feelings and has also helped me to feel a bit more normal (I also shared my feelings with one of my friends and she admitted to having some PPD issues and not taking to motherhood instantly- but now she loves it and her beautiful daughter doesn't know any differently!)

I was prescribed Zoloft to begin breaking through the fog and taking the edge off of my anxiety, and my dear husband is very supportive. Whether it's just to call and say hi and tell me I'm doing a good job, or dragging me out of the house on what we call "Mommy Field Trips," to taking over when he gets home from work. Getting out is important- maybe just to Target or to get something to eat, but I'm out of the house. I'm going to be attending my first Moms' Group activity tomorrow night and am looking forward to that; having events to look forward to is an important part of the recovery process. I also look at my beautiful daughter- our little creation and miracle- and I feel better. It's not instantaneous though- I still have good days and bad days; fortunately the good have outnumbered the bad.

The other day when a Tweet (Twitter and Facebook are an endless source of entertainment for me during feedings!) led me to discover a very heart wrenching blog that made me have a revelation. In short, the family had a beautiful daughter that was born premature; fought to live and thrive and then suddenly died when she was around three. I felt so much empathy for that poor family; and appreciative that we have Kiera. I leaned over a picked up Kiera and hugged her tight and promised that I would work really hard to feel better. I'm not expecting an overnight miracle (she took nine plus months after all!) but just some progress and hopefully the bond between Kiera and I will grow even stronger!