Perspective (Or, I Did That??)

On the whole, things are going well for me. I have a business that is doing well and growing, my husband is doing work as a handyman and getting as much work as he is looking for. My oldest started school and loves it, my middle child is in day care and loves it just as much, and my little girl is finally starting to talk despite some speech delays. We still aren't able to put much away for a rainy day, but at least we're not pulling money OUT of savings just to try to keep up with the bills. So overall, the direction we're going is good. And I'm proud of that. But some days...

Some days I forget to look back, to think about what we HAVE accomplished and where things have improved. Some days I forget that in January of this year it hadn't occurred to me to start my own business, and now I have an assistant. I forget that a year and a half ago I was a size 16 and couldn't run five minutes straight if my life depended on it. (I'm a size 10 now, and can run 30+ minutes) And some days I forget that not that long ago I would have looked at someone working on a business and raising three kids and seen her as some kind of impossibly accomplished person, something I could never even imagine being. Those days I look at the things that need to be done, both for work and for home, and I feel inadequate to the task(s) at hand. I feel as though any day someone will look at me and realize that, really, I'm just faking it. I can't possibly imagine how I will get from here to there. So today, I'm going to look back and pat myself on a the back - just a little bit - in the hopes that it will remind me that if I could go from where I was to where I am, I can do anything - so long as I stay focused, stay positive, and keep doing what needs to be done.

In January of 2010, my little girl was born. I knew even before she was born that I didn't want to have any more kids after her. I had my two boys and my girl, and while none of my pregnancies were particularly difficult, being pregnant while having two very energetic boys was not a lot of fun. And while infancy is a magical and wondrous thing the first time around, by the third kid it is mostly a lot of work with VERY little sleep. Meeting the unending needs of a newborn/infant is never easy. But throw in a couple more kids and a husband working insane and very long hours at a job that was both physically and mentally demanding, and the magical and wondrous parts, while still there, get harder to find and hold on to.  

Since then, I've taken up running, something I never ever thought I'd do. In fact, when it was suggested to me I gave at least 15 reasons that I don't run, can't run and would never run. My friend insisted I should just TRY the couch to 5K program. Just to see. I gave another five reasons it wouldn't work. But I tried it. And it worked. And for the first time in my life, I was running, and I loved it. And the weight I fought with all my life started melting away. I still get surprised when I look in a mirror and don't see a double chin, but it's a lovely surprise. :)

Then early this year, it was suggested that I try being a Real Estate Virtual Assistant. We needed some income, and I had liked working as a real estate assistant years before, so I gave it a shot. I started with one client, doing a few hours of work a week. Bringing in a little here, a little there. But I liked it. I was good at it, and it was fun. So I kept at it. Now I have 6 regular clients and other agents ask me to do occasional work or sit and consult with them from time to time. And I have an assistant, without whom I'd probably lose my mind. And there's money in the bank. From my business. And it's fun. It's hard - it's challenging, and like I said, some days I can't imagine I'll ever be able to negotiate all the challenges that come from running my own growing business. But when 2010 started I'd have sworn up and down I'd never be a runner and I'd probably never be less than a size 14 for the rest of my life. And when 2011 started I'd have laughed at the idea that I'd have a lucrative and growing business. So I'll figure it out. I'll make some mistakes - mostly small stupid mistakes that are just a little embarrassing, probably a couple of bigger ones. But I'll fix them, learn from them, and keep going. And next year, if I keep doing the things that I need to do, I'll be able to look back and say "Wow..I came that far??"

I wonder when.

I wonder when it will stop hurting to see a pregnant woman rubbing her belly.

I wonder when it will stop bringing tears to my eyes to see a sweet little baby.

I wonder when the ache will go away.

I wonder if people can see the pain on my face when I try to look the other direction...

Last night there was a Golden Girls episode that centered on the girls taking care of a baby. This morning's I Love Lucy episode was the one where she finds out she's pregnant and everyone is so happy and excited and she gets to tell Ricky who's over the moon too...


One of my favorite things to do is keep up with celebrity gossip - it's silly and meaningless and that's why I enjoy it. But now? Now Beyonce is pregnant with her first baby. Hilary Duff and Jessica Simpson are too. Jennifer Garner is on her 3rd. Jessica Alba, Natalie Portman, Selma Blair have all recently given birth... the list goes on and on. And since America loves celeb babies, these women and their little ones are constantly in the headlines and on the front pages. And every day it seems like more lucky women get to make their announcement. I can't stop from thinking about how that should have been me. October 24th would have been the end of my first trimester so by now I should have been yelling it to the world and posting pics of my growing belly. I can't help but wonder whose due date is the same date that mine would have been...


TLC is pretty much my favorite channel to watch and it's what's on my tv most of the day. TLC is a never-ending parade of baby commercials and baby shows...


So I've been making changes. Turning the channel to Discovery or just turning it Off. Looking more at sites that are about anything but celebrity. Spending less time on Facebook (I've already talked about what a torture device that is right now)...


But you can't avoid reality for long. You can't avoid seeing pregnant women, they're everywhere. And so are happy families with beautiful babies. So trying to keep my head in the sand and my eyes closed isn't going to work...

So I guess I'm left just to wonder...

Coping.

My husband is a first-year regional pilot for a small commercial airline that is a subsidiary of one of the larger nationals. That sentence can tell you a couple very key things about my life (and our lives) right now, if you are aware of them. Number one: add in the fact that I'm an adjunct instructor at a local technical college and you could know right away that we are flat broke. But actually, what we've found is that instead of hearing first-year regional pilot and adjunct instructor at local tech college, people just hear PILOT and PROFESSOR. And then they assume we have money. Oooooh how wrong they are! Most people have no idea that first year regional pilots for small airlines actually get paid dirt. Literally. They pack an envelope full of dirt and mail it to us.
Ok, ok, maybe not, but they may as well. Generally, the average starting pay right now for a new regional commercial pilot is around $18-$23K per year. No, I'm not kidding. Yes, it's startlingly low. Not to mention completely RIDICULOUS considering the amount of training and work and determination it takes to become a pilot these days... but that's a separate conversation.
So also, I am not a professor. I wish I was but that would require more schooling and more degrees - which would entail more student loans - and that's something I'm just not willing to do right now. So I am just a lowly little adjunct instructor. There's a huge difference. And I work at a local, technical college, not a prestigious University. Basically, I also get paid dirt - with no benefits, no paid time off, not even an office or desk or cubicle to call my own. So put dirt and dirt together and what do you have? Yeah, still just a whole bunch of dirt.

Anyway, the part of being a pilot's wife that I really wanted to talk about is the second key part. It's l o n e l y . Obviously, a pilot does not spend most of his time at home. Generally speaking, he's gone 4-6 days at a time, home 1-3 days at time. But one factor that is lessening our time together right now is that fact that he's technically based out of Columbus, Ohio, and we live in Atlanta, GA. Luckily, we are about 20 minutes from the Atl airport so he is able to commute. But commuting, of course, takes more time away from home and adds another level of stress that we really don't need right now. We may move to Columbus when our lease at our current apartment is up but until that time, it's not an option (not to mention the part about leaving my job).
Flights from Atlanta to Columbus, OH don't run all night. So when his "reserve" shifts begin (meaning he's on-call) at 3 a.m., which they often do, he has to fly out the night before. When he only has 1 day off, that means he arrives home around 7:30 a.m. and then has to leave again that same night around 7:30 p.m.. All of this is to say that we don't get very much time together right now. Yes, I did know I was dating and marrying a pilot. That's every one's first response when I mention how hard it is to be apart so much. But knowing something in advance doesn't necessarily make it any easier to deal with when it becomes reality. We all know we're going to die, does that make it any easier when it's actually time to deal with it??
So I spend a lot of time alone at our apartment. Sometimes it's great and I enjoy it. I can do what I want, when I want, and I don't have to answer to anyone (except Milo and Belly of course). I can watch all the Golden Girls I want without any complaints damn it! WOO HOO to that! But then after awhile, it gets old. Really, really old. Especially right now, when things are so hard and we are both just trying to cope with our daily lives. We need one another more than ever but we are usually hundreds of miles apart. When my back is throbbing, he's not there to rub it and make it feel better. When I'm thinking about all the bills and wondering how we are going to pay them, he's not there to remind me we will find a way.
Most importantly, we are trying to heal from the miscarriage... and doing that without your other half around to talk about it is just infinitely more difficult. When I'm feeling at my lowest, and my heart is breaking for the millionth time over what could have (and should have) been, he's often not here to hug me tightly and remind me that it will be ok. When the pain of the loss hits me for the millionth time, and knocks me down to my knees and the tears fall so hard that I can barely breathe, he's usually not here to hand me tissues and remind me I'm not alone in this. And, of course, it's the other way around as well. When he's alone in his hotel room after a long day of work, and things catch up to him and he has to face his pain, I'm not there to remind him how much I love him.
Oh, and yes we have phones and Skype and all of that. Sorry, but when you are talking about a situation like this that involves a miscarriage and a bankruptcy and all of that goodness, phone conversations do not even begin to cut it. They do not meet that driving need you have for emotional closeness and comfort and love. So please don't even bother bringing them up.
And so both of us, on top of everything else, have to deal with the extra guilt and pain of not being able to physically be there when we know our partner needs us most.

...Oh and I haven't even mentioned the fact that when he actually is home, we constantly feel like we are on the clock and our time is running out. There's always an awareness of what day it is and what time it is and that he's going to have to leave again soon. And that adds another layer of stress - we only have a short amount of time together so we better make it worth it (whatever that means)! We better get along perfectly and use our time wisely and do all of this and get all of that done... all in 36 hours! It's like constantly living in video game where you only have a certain amount of time to get it done and otherwise, *dun dun dun*, TIME'S UP!

So I'm trying to learn how to cope - and we are trying to learn how as a couple, too. It's not easy. But flying is his first love and that's never going to change so we have to find ways to work around all of the time apart that it requires (though his hours and schedule will get better as his seniority slowly increases over time). But when I'm going on my 5th day alone in the apartment, and I'm crawling into our king size bed alone again, and all I want is a hug from my husband, sometimes it can feel like coping isn't going to be possible. And that's when I try to remind myself to focus on how wonderful he is, how he's everything I always hoped I'd find in a husband, and how great it feels when he is there to cuddle up with... And then I remember that it's worth it and that I shouldn't give up trying to find a way. Ever. So as long as he's willing to keep trying and I'm lucky enough to be the woman he wants to keep trying with, I'm going to have to hang on and know that eventually, it will (somehow) get easier. One way or another. Because we love each other and we want to be together and we are strong and intelligent and committed. And that is what really matters, no matter what else is going on. I love you Peter. Thank you for reminding me what it means to keep trying and for reminding me constantly that I'm worth it, and that you and our future together are more than worth it.

Boom.

Last week I, my husband, and our three kids piled into the van and drove from Massachusetts to Western PA for a family wedding. Along the way we stopped overnight in Philly to visit my sister and her family. This meant we drove for roughly a full day over the course of five. With three young kids. I could write a whole post about how annoying some parts of the trip were, and then write another one about how completely worth it the trip was to be at the wedding and to be surrounded by my husband's huge and VERY loving family. But I'm not going to. Suffice it to say, the trip was long, tiring, at times frustrating, and very rewarding. And I'm already looking forward to doing it again in July when another cousin is getting married, hours in the car notwithstanding.

Instead, I wanted to respond to a comment I got on my last post, but not in the comments section. I actually hadn't published the post because I didn't want it to sit unanswered, and I haven't been able to sit and write anything until now (see previous paragraph for why). Last time I wrote about my oldest son, and the issues we have had with him. I got this as a response to my post:

Sounds like a serious issue, Olivia, not a blog discussion. Your son has an outstanding personality but it's developing in a wrong direction. I think you should consult with a professional and find the right approach to tweak his mind. I am not saying that he needs assistance, I am saying that his character can either become advantage or disadvantage in his life, he can become a great leader or he can get hurt, a great anger can grow in him before he understands the purpose. And nervous system is the only system in human body that doesn't cure or heal

The first time I read it, my reaction was defensive. I felt accused of not taking care of my child, or of not taking it seriously. I felt...blamed. But after I actually thought about it, I realized none of that came from the comment itself. There's nothing in the comment that is critical, or anything but caring and helpful. My own fear that I'm not doing every last thing I could be doing bounced right off of the comment and came back at me. So Alek - in case you were wondering why I didn't post your comment, that is why. At first because i didn't like it, and then because I realized I had more to say about it than I wanted to say in comments.

We have, in fact, talked to his pediatrician about this and have gone with him to therapy for a period of a few months, and are considering going back. It did help a lot - we stopped a while before school started because things were going very well. Since school has started it's been a bit rougher, and in fact my son asked me the other day when he could go see the Doctor again. But there was no indication of this in my previous post, so it's certainly fair to assume that I haven't, that I'm looking for answers through the blog and nowhere else. I also took the extra steps required to get him into a charter school that has a more rigid structure, something he responds very well to, so that he would have an easier and more productive time at school. (And he LOVES it!) But I didn't say that either. From a very young age, we've talked very openly with him about his emotions, and his anger, and about control. When he isn't worked up, he can talk very clearly about how angry he gets, how he has trouble controlling his impulses, etc. And he has a very clear sense of right and wrong, fair and unfair. But then...something else takes over. And then the talking doesn't work anymore.

The question isn't whether he needs assistance. His intelligence and his passion and his creativity (not to mention that incredible energy) could bring him very far in life, but his anger, his anxiety and his impulsiveness could block that path. So the question I keep trying to answer is this. How do I help him keep the passion and the energy and the creativity but learn to control the rest? How do I get this beautiful wild horse to calm down enough to be a part of the herd, without breaking his will? How much CAN I do?

____________

Before I finish, I just have this nagging feeling I've given the impression that my son is in a constant state of rampage. He's really not. He's not a problem kid at school or at his after school program, and when he's not torturing his little brother he's fiercely protective of him. He's so proud to show us the words he is learning to read and write, and to tell us about the kids he is getting to know. And he's getting so much more confident interacting with the world around him without me standing right by his side. And he announces, on a regular basis, just how much he loves me and his daddy and his brother and sister and his dog. And every night when he and his brother lie down in their bunk beds he insists that I sing them a song. And when things are calm for a few days sometimes I even think I'm just blowing things up, that it's just normal kid stuff. But he never lets me think that for too long....

The Specialist

So yesterday was a day I had been looking forward to for awhile. I had an appointment with a new specialist to get a new opinion about my situation with my back and where I should go from here. I already know there aren't any real solutions, per se, I'm stuck with this back and it isn't going to get any better. But I'm always hoping for at least a temporary reprieve from the pain. I was very nervous to go. I've seen enough specialists in my life to know that they tend to be a very strange bunch and you never know what's going to walk into the exam room. Luckily Peter seemed happy to come along and that helped keep me calmer.

He was a very nice doctor. I've definitely never had any doctor sit with me for as long as this guy did, it had to have been at least 30 minutes. He went into lots of detail about everything and you could tell he was trying to make sure to explain it all in simple terms so we simple-folk could follow along. Although I already knew most of what he was saying, I knew Peter didn't, so it was good. And I try hard to not mind when doctor's talk to me like I'm a moron because I know they usually have good intentions. So his choice for the best path right now is to do a series of epidurals in my lower back (info about them here: http://www.reddinganesthesia.com/ESB.htm). Although in my situation an epidural is considered one of the "less invasive" options (because the other options involve surgery), this means he wants to stick a needle into the spaces between my vertebrae and inject high doses of steroids. Three times. Obviously, there are risks, though when you look at the info on the internet about epi's, most places refer to the risks as minimal.
Now, medically speaking at least, I'm a fairly tough chick. I've had a number of surgeries. I've had tons of tests and procedures, taken tons of weird medications. I've been scared to death many times but gone ahead anyway, knowing it was what's best. But these epidurals really freak me out. Something about it just ties my stomach in a knot, no matter how much I read up. It just doesn't sit well with me right now. So I'm hesitant, to put it mildly...
Oh, and by the way, shockingly the epidurals aren't done for free. Yes, insurance would cover up to 80%... but we don't have any volunteers to cover the other 20% so I'm guessing that would fall to us. Doctor's always sound so excited when you bring up the cost and they remind you - "But your insurance will cover 80%!" WOOHOO! Ok...yes they will, but uh... what about the other 20%? Cause uhh....right now we don't have enough to cover our current monthly bills. Sure, we can break down the 20% and pay it in installments...but uhm... we literally don't have $5 to send you. We, literally, do not have a single extra dollar to send. And as nice as doctors are when they are talking to you in the exam room, they tend to get really bitchy when you don't send them their money (and I'm speaking from experience). Then the caring, sympathetic doctor suddenly takes a vacation. Trust me.

So I started crying. Of course. These days, I cry at least two or three times a day, every day. No joke. Guessing it's partly hormonal but it's definitely also stress-induced. I was feeling overwhelmed, disappointed, sad, hopeless, frustrated and angry. So on came the deluge. And let me tell you, if you ever feel like you're done with listening to your doctor and you really want him to leave, turn on the tears. Most of them take off like someone just called in a bomb threat. But before he left, he made his one, big mistake. He saw me crying and I guess he decided that was the right time to remind me that, actually, my "glass should be half full"! My life could be so much worse! His daughter had a brain tumor when she was 6 years old! I am a very fortunate girl!
And that's where he lost me. In my book, nothing is more condescending - or infuriating - than someone telling someone who is upset that they shouldn't be. Am I a lucky girl? Absolutely. Could my life be much worse? HOLY YES. I am 100% aware of these things at all times. But do they mean that I don't have the right to get stressed or disappointed or sad or angry about the problems I am facing? Hell no. That is bullshit, plain and simple. Everyone has a right to feel whatever it is they feel when they're going through hard times. And lately, times have been a real bitch. So when I'm sitting in your office, trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm 32 years old and I really am facing a life of unsolvable chronic pain, that I'm going to be forced to have more painful, scary procedures that I want no part of and can't afford, and I start to cry... you need to let me. You need to hand over the tissues, say anything along the lines of, "I'm sorry you're dealing with all of this" and leave it at that. Because everyone will face situations in life that makes them cry (or at least want to cry) and when they do, they deserve to be able to get it out. No matter what that situation may be, even if it seems utterly trivial compared to the millions of other atrocities people face every day. Everyone deserves to be to able to scream and yell, throw things, and sob until they can't breathe when that's how they feel. And if they're lucky, have someone there handing over the tissues while they do. Every single one of us deserves to be allowed to feel whatever it is we're feeling, regardless of whether or not the situation measures up as sucky enough on the grand Life Suckiness Scale. Life is not a competition over who's is harder and you don't have to earn the right to cry. Ever. There's a huge difference between being upset and reacting and allowing yourself to feel your emotions than having a pity-party, and there's nothing wrong until that party starts.

So I'm going to think about it all. And probably go see another specialist to get another opinion on my options. And for today, I'm going to do a lot of nothing... tho I'm willing to bet that, at some point, there will probably be more tears involved. And that's ok too.

And now for something just plain fun:

Breathe

Tonight started as a good night. My evening lecture went very well. I felt comfortable with what I was talking about and the students were interested and participated. I've had a very hard time getting back into the work routine since missing 2 weeks because of the miscarriage. Not because my work is especially hard (I've been teaching the same material now for almost 2 years, I've got it pretty well down I think), not because of my students being especially difficult (not this time anyway), not because of my boss being a pain. I've just had a very hard time getting myself back to giving a damn about it. I just don't care right now. I don't care about sociological theory. I don't give a damn about grading homework's or making up exams. I am really, really not in the mood to listen to students whine about this or that or argue with them about their work or attendance. I don't know what happened but I just feel like I don't have any energy to use on that stuff. It all seems so unimportant. And so when tonight went fairly well and I was feeling a little bit back to my old self at work, I came home pretty happy.
So I sat down at my computer and did my usual routine of signing onto Facebook to check in on what's going on with everyone. And I got hit with a looong stream of beautiful, amazing baby pictures and baby stories. Mom's holding their littlest ones, gushing about how wonderful they are. Families in their brand spanking new family portraits. Babies with their first teeth and toddlers with their first steps. And it literally took my breath away. I had to remind myself to inhale. I'm used to seeing lots of family pictures on FB, especially these days, it just seems to be a constant feed of pregnancy announcements and cute family anecdotes and so on. But tonight there just seemed to be even more than usual and it just hit me like a truck right in the chest, still feel the dull aching now. It feels very alone. And very empty. And very, very full of longing. I want that warm, cuddly, sweet tiny baby so badly and we were so close. But now it's gone and feels so, so far away again.
Of course, I'm incredibly happy for everyone I saw in the pictures tonight and see every day. They're all family or close friends and I love them all. Tonight it just hurt, more than I ever could have expected. It just hurts to see that they all have this amazing, central part of life that feels as far away as ever from us. So tonight I'll sign off and close the window and cry when I lay down in bed. And try hard to forget about the pictures and the aching and the fact that I'm back to being all alone in my body. Hopefully I'll fall asleep before I can think about all the 'what might have been's" and if I get really lucky, maybe I'll dream about all of the possibilities that are still out there.