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The Female View - January 2007

To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 31st 2007 17:27
I stayed with Josh from morning until night and then my husband came and slept in a chair in his room. Josh was in the ICU for a day and a half. He wore a teeny tiny hospital gown imprinted with cartoon characters. I had come to think of him as my big boy (since little Alex came along) but suddenly he looked like such a little baby.

They kept the I.V. in his hand. I knew it was hurting and while he still wasn’t talking much I could see he was obviously in pain. But the staff in the ICU was far from friendly or kind. Even though it was pediatric unit and he was not even 2 ½ (although he was very tall so everyone always thought he was older) they were rough, verbally and physically when they treated him. Not that they were abusive. They weren’t. They just weren’t nice. At all. Even had they been treating an adult they were harsh. Finally, I asked them to change the I.V. to another location. And at first they complained (apparently it wasn’t as convenient FOR THEM) but I stood my ground. It was hard enough watching Josh trying to suck in enough oxygen to survive, if I could make him feel a little happier and better I was going to. Eventually, they relented and switched the I.V., and you know what? It was simple and it made no difference in treatment, which lead me to believe that it was all a control thing. As in they were the all powerful doctors and I was the itty bitty powerless patient, or in this case the patient’s powerless mother. I wish I could say I felt triumphant after I won that battle but at the moment there was not much to feel good about. Except that my parents were helping out with Alex and I was truly grateful.


During the day I sat on Josh’s bed and I read to him. He only wanted me to read this one book about different modes of transportation. You know cars, trains, boats, planes. And he wanted me to read it over and over again. I’m not kidding when I said that I read that book for eight hours straight. Every time I stopped he’d say “again” and this guilty mom would do exactly what her sick son wanted. I read it again and again and again.


I knew his pediatrician would be visiting Josh at some point during her hospital rounds but I wasn’t sure when, so even though I really, really had to use the ladies room I waited and read until finally I couldn’t wait anymore. Can you guess what happened? As soon as I was in that ladies room the doctor arrived. And what did my speech-challenged son tell her when she asked where mommy was?

”Gone”, was all he said. It wasn’t all one word but it said it all. “Gone”, as in my mommy abandoned me and I’m such a poor sick little boy.

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To Be or Not to Be a Mother - Part Three

January 30th 2007 15:49
Josh’s breathing still had not improved by that evening so when my husband came home I called the doctor (she had evening hours) and we brought him over. At that point I noticed that his neck was caving every time he took a breath but again she told us that it was just the fever. This time, however, she told us if we were still worried we could bring him to the emergency room.

That evening we took Josh home. He didn’t sleep much that night and so neither did we. From past experience I knew my husband would fight the idea (I think he thought hospitals were only for dead people) of taking Josh to the hospital. And fearing his temper I didn’t bring it up. But I had this bad feeling and it wouldn’t go away.

So the next morning, after my husband left for work, I called the doctor and told her I was taking Josh to the hospital. She told me she’d call ahead and let them know I was bringing him in. Then I called my dad (whose work schedule was flexible) told him I was taking Josh to the hospital and asked if he could watch Alex. Frankly, I thought he’d say no, but without hesitation he told me he was on his way. I couldn’t believe he was actually coming, just because I’d asked him to. And I didn’t even have to cry and act so pathetic that I made myself feel like a complete loser to get him to come. Anyway, after my dad I called my husband and told him that I’d already called the pediatrician and she agreed that I should take Josh to the hospital. Maybe it was because I’d told him the doctor had agreed that Josh should go, but surprisingly he never argued or got angry, instead he told me he was on his way and he’d meet us there. And then I bundled up Josh and I left.

My husband met us in the parking lot and carried Josh into the emergency room where they were waiting for him. The doctors took one look at him and pointed out the bluish tint of his fingernails and lips. Cause? A severe lack of oxygen. How could I have not seen that? How stupid was I? How much more of a loser mom could I be? Forget the fact that his pediatrician hadn’t noticed, I was his mom and mommies known better. I asked about the neck caving in every time he took a breath. And they told me that he was having an asthma attack. A very severe asthma attack. But he’d never been diagnosed with asthma. And I had asthma and while my chest may have caved in, not my neck.

According to the doctors this was the severest kind of asthma attack and he was struggling to get air in. Then they showed me how low his “SAT” (oxygen saturation) rate was and how fast his heart was beating to compensate. They said he some amazing trooper to be in such good spirits but so oxygen deprived. Then they hooked him up to an I.V. (so pathetic to see your toddler in so much pain as they poked around in his hand to find a viable vein) gave him some asthma medications, admitted him into the pediatric Intensive Care Unit and informed my husband and me that if things didn’t improve very soon they would have to sedate my little boy and shove a ventilator tube down his throat. How awful I thought, but then I considered the alternative, according to the doctors, “he could die”.

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To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 29th 2007 19:08
Every time we went to the pediatrician we waited at least 2 hours to be seen. Two hours of trying to get Josh to cooperate around all those other kids. While holding and amusing baby Alex. While trying not to freak out in front of all those other women (I was so frustrated when I couldn’t get Josh to notice, let alone listen to me) who were obviously more emotionally stable and better moms. Left me feeling depressed and exhausted.
And my kids were always sick. So we were always there (in six months the doctor had presented me with a 2 page computer print-out of our visits).

I guess you’re thinking, “why didn’t she just pick a doctor who had a shorter wait time. You see my sister, who everyone in the family agreed, was the model mother, told me that this pediatrician was the best. And since I’d screwed my children up enough already how could I deny them the best care possible? So I did what I had to do. I waited and waited and waited and…

This time Josh had a temperature of 103. Which sounds really high, but his fever always spiked whenever he got sick, even if he just had a bad cold. And according to the good doctor, while a high fever should be of concern, it’s how the child is acting that puts the severity of the illness into perspective. Like was he lethargic? Did he lose his appetite?

And in Josh’s case he could have a high fever and still be racing around gobbling up his meals and playing with his toys. And this time was no different. What concerned me was the way he was breathing. Fast and shallow. His chest seemed to be caving in. But the doctor assured me that a high fever could cause this and not to worry. She gave me an antibiotic and told me to bring him back if he appeared to get sicker.

I took the kids home. Made dinner. Fed them and watched Josh run around play. He didn't appear to be in distress but something I couldn't get rid of that feeling of dread. Something wasn't right.
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To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 25th 2007 21:13
]Josh was 2 and Alex was 5 months. Josh was a toddler and while I knew that toddler’s were known for being active and needing attention I was beginning to think that something might be wrong. You see, even though I had been taking him everywhere I could to see that he got to play with other kids his age. And even though he loved to “play” with other kids. He didn’t seem like all the other kids his age. I wasn’t sure why I thought this. Maybe it was that he never looked at you when you talked. Maybe it was because he seemed much more active and he needed much more attention than all the others. Or maybe it was because no matter how I tried to help him make nice, he always had trouble with other kids.

Not the major, knock down, drag out kind of trouble. But when he was playing with something, he played for hours with that thing. And no one else could play with it. It was as if was in his own world, never noticing anything or anyone around him. And if he needed another block or another Lego to complete his complex task (and the things he built were definitely more advanced than the others) he’d grab it from another child, never noticing their reaction. It was as if they didn’t exist. I know it sounds like a case of bad sharing and the doctor did tell me not to worry, that he just appeared to be a bit more hyper and more focused than most, but I could feel that something wasn’t right


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother- Part Three

January 23rd 2007 21:16
I tried not to lose it on a daily basis. I wasn’t sure when it would all pass. I hoped it would soon. I was so, so busy, constantly doing, doing, doing and yet somehow I still had time to know I felt incredibly sad. But for now I had responsibilities, so I did what I had to even if I was starting to wish I’d rather be dead.

I wish I had someone to talk to. I needed someone to talk to. Even if that someone thought I was being melodramatic and making it all up. So I would call my husband at work. I couldn’t call him often. I limited it to 2-3 times per week and very short conversations at a time. I worried about his job every time. I didn’t want him to get in trouble with his boss. So I waited until I felt so sad that I’d rather die than live the life I was in for another minute and then I dialed the phone. And when the receptionist answered I put on my happy face and chattered about my peachy perfect life and how lucky I was to be a mother, until my husband came on the line. And then I cried. I begged him to help me or maybe he could ask his mother to come over for a couple of hours a week (trust me, she’d already shown she’d do it when he asked but not when I did) and he said that maybe he would. But he never did. I cried and asked if maybe he could find someone to babysit for a little bit so I could get out of the house, maybe it would help and he said that maybe he would. But he never did. What he did do was speak to me with kindness and compassion until I stopped crying and then he would tell me he loved me and that he’d be home regular time (7:30 P.M., after the kids were tucked in for the night). And then we say good-bye. And that was that


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother - Part Three

January 22nd 2007 19:39
It wasn’t that I was so young when I had kids. I was in my late twenties. But none of my friends had any yet. I was the first to venture into the motherhood realm. It wasn’t that the others didn’t want to have kids (it was due to timing or infertility issues), although there was one friend who was dead set against the female side of nature taking its supposed intended course. To me this was her God-given right to choose, however, as I’ve discovered, more people than prefer to share my father-in-law’s view that, “there’s something wrong with her”.

Whatever the reason the bottom line was that I was very lonely and I had no one to talk to or with about what I was going through. Here I had all these new problems and questions and no one that I trusted to run them by. And because of various dysfunctions family unfortunately, was not a good source of support or information, at the time. Here are some of what I wish I knew


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To Be or Not To Be a Mother - Part Three

January 18th 2007 17:16
I know I’m not supposed to feel this way. I know I wasn’t supposed to say such things. But the truth was that I hated motherhood. It’s not that I hated my children. I didn’t. I even thought I loved them. But then again did I really love them? I was so numb all the time I couldn’t know for sure. What I did know was that I hated getting up in the morning. The only part of the day that I looked forward to was going to sleep.

I was a bad person for feeling the way I did. I knew I was bad based upon everything I’d heard. Mothers loved being mothers. Every mother you asked said so. Every advertisement told you as much. Every story on T.V., in the movies, in the news showed you a good person/good mother/woman who loved being a mother (happy, well-liked, good neighbor, lots of friends, volunteer, religious, etc.) vs. bad person/bad mother/hating being a mother (miserable, drug addict, alcoholic, criminal, abuser, etc.) and now I belonged to the latter category


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 15th 2007 18:29
Woke up this morning and fed, changed and dressed the kids. Feeling numb. Walking around, but inside it’s as if I never woke up.

Still in pajamas myself when my husband finishes getting dressed and is ready to leave for work. I don’t know what it was. Maybe I was thinking about how he got to get dressed in peace while I had to wait until I could find a moment to race into the bathroom and shower at lightening speed to the background sound of crying and complaining kids. Maybe I was thinking about his drive to and from work and how he could spend it listening to the news, music, a radio show or just thinking of anything he wanted. Maybe I was thinking about how he got to walk out of the house without first having to diaper two babies, put together a diaper bag with two changes of clothes, bottles and snacks and then navigate a toddler and an infant down two flights of stairs and into the car (and two car seats as my son, who hated the car seat, struggled endlessly). How he could stop the car and get out anywhere, anytime without first having to open up the heavy double stroller and take out first one, then the next child and belt them in and then push that heavy load to and from wherever our destination


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 12th 2007 18:28
Every morning I wake up dreading the day. I suppose it’s good that I hardly have any time to think. Every minute is taken up with someone else’s needs. Even when I go to the bathroom someone is crying for me.

Make the bottles, change two sets of diapers. Bath them. Dress them. Feed them breakfast. Burp her. Hold her. Play with him. Do my errands. Food shop. Feed them lunch. Burp her some more. Change their diapers again. Play some more. Feed them dinner. Burp her again. Change them again. Dress them for bed. Play some more. Read my son a story. Put them to bed


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 10th 2007 17:23
I took Josh and Alex to the pediatrician for their check-ups. Alex was only 2 months old. He had been my old pediatrician from the time I was 8 years old until I was 22. I know, I know 22 sounds too old for a baby doctor but as it turns out a lot of the kids I grew up with went to their baby doctors right through college.

Anyway, this doctor was great at diagnosing illnesses. He’d even saved my life - when I was away at a 6 week college program between junior and senior year of high school - after the nurse at the college (Cornell) administered way, way too much of my allergy serum in one shot. Without getting into all the boring details, let’s just say he went above and beyond the call duty a long, long after office hours to save the day. And he’d diagnosed a serious illness in my sister when others had failed, etc. etc., etc. As far as I was concerned he wasn’t a good doctor, he was a great doctor and I felt safe putting my children’s health in his hands


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To Be or Not to be a Mother -Part Three

January 9th 2007 18:11
The days are passing and I’m not feeling any better. I’m going through the motions but it’s as if I’m not all there. I feel like I’m watching the world go by from behind a window. I’m on autopilot going through the motions.

But all my life I’d been a trained seal, performing on cue, and somehow I still managed to put on my party face when I was outside the house or with others. I suppose it was so ingrained that I easily transformed into Chuckles the Clown, what I’d been encouraged/taught to do since I was a very little girl so I could brighten everyone else’s world. Afterward, it always felt as if I’d just lifted an eighteen wheeler with my bare hands. Being with other was so much work. I couldn’t wait for it to end so I could rest


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother - Part Three

January 8th 2007 17:52
The days are endless. But at least this time I get to sleep through most of the nights. Except when my asthma wakes me, which is starting to happen more and more each night.

My days go something like this. I wake up at 5 A.M. every morning when Josh wakes up. Soon after, Alex follows. I feed and change them. Bathe them. Dress them. And if it’s a nice day outside I put them both into a double stroller (no small feat to set-up the stroller and kids outside all by myself) and then we walk through the neighborhood for about an hour. Josh keeps busy by snacking on a bag of Cheerios and Alex either sleeps or looks around. It’s hard for me to walk and breathe. And my legs are still rubbery from all those months in bed but the only way I could think to put myself back together again was to exercise and so that’s what I was going to do


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother - Part Three

January 4th 2007 18:46
The babysitter’s time was nearing an end and I was ready for her to move on. Don’t get me wrong. She was a really nice older woman who took amazing care of my niece and then Josh. Since I had been around a lot of the past year I was able to see how good she was with Josh. And with me. She made my lunches, sometimes emptied my spit pot (which in my opinion is akin to cleaning hospital bedpans and therefore should have earned her a medal).


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 3rd 2007 19:56
Josh’s babysitter obviously preferred taking care of the new baby. Ay first I thought it was because she was so tiny and cute. At under 5 pounds (born at 5lb 3oz. she’d come home at 4lb. 15oz. – I know you’re thinking she was too small or premature but neither was true. She was induced 2 1/2 weeks early and unlike Josh who had been born premature, she had plenty of rolls of chub. It’s just that like her mother she was really short…I mean petite)

Anyway, Alex was the size of a doll, she even fit into doll clothes. And she was cuddly. She loved to snuggle into you. And she seemed content. She slept 4 hours at a clip and as for digesting, there seemed to be no problem there, at least not yet. Josh could only suck 1-2 ounces at a time (a very long time) so in order to grow to the 90% percentile weight and height, which is where he eventually ended up (he’s big like his dad) his feedings never ended, just segued from one to the next. Alex, on the other hand, drank 3-4 ounces within a short period of time, burped, then slept. To me it was like a dream come true


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To Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part Three

January 2nd 2007 16:02
I was home from the hospital. And I was so tired. I don’t think I can truly explain how exhausted I felt. It was different than anything I’d every felt before. Even when I hadn’t slept an entire night that exhaustion didn’t come close to comparing to what I was feeling. The best way to describe it is that every part of me felt heavy. Like there was a fifty pound weight sitting on each of my body parts. My arm felt heavy to lift. I had problems breathing. Every breath took an effort. And something else. I felt like I wasn’t feeling. No, like I wasn’t feeling right? Or was it that I wasn’t feeling anything? I know I’m not explaining it well, but it’s the best I can do.

My husband never took off from work. Not this time or last. The parents weren’t around because they too worked. However Josh’s babysitter was still with us. For another couple of weeks. That’s as much as I could afford with the left over disability from that wonderful but short-lived job I’d had before I became pregnant again


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