six cats in the yard

My mother gave me a lot. She taught me how to enjoy and appreciate reading, learning and music. She was not meant for poverty, not meant for the life she ended up living. She was a gentle soul with a lot of heart, but too much in her head held her back.

She made me who I am today, partially from my desire to never be like her. But the good qualities in her are coming out little by little in me, especially now that I have Madeleine. My mother never wanted a child and sometimes I felt she never wanted me, though I do know that she did her best with what she didn’t have and managed to keep herself together enough while I was growing up to get me off to a good college where I could start living my own life. I realized that she had been living for me when she quit law school and lost the house.

It left me feeling very conflicted because I was at the point where I was ready to break away and start following my own path. At the same time, I knew that she wasn’t taking care of herself and needed help. But I wasn’t in a position financially or mentally to do that. I was learning who I was, what I wanted, and what was important to me. And while I know she wanted me to stay in Eugene with her, I knew that I couldn’t do it without sacrificing my dreams and my well being. It would have left me even more resentful. But then, if I’d stayed, would her life have been different in the end? Would it have been better? And would mine have been worse or just different?

When I had Madeleine, I knew that I wanted to be a better mother to her than my mother was to me. I wanted to make sure she felt safe, loved, and free to experience life with all of its amazing twists and turns while feeling like she had a good home base to come back to. I wanted her to feel like she was supported in whatever she wanted to do and that life was an adventure to be lived and not something to shrink or hide from. I also wanted to shield her from the things in my mother that I knew made her weak.

But I wanted to instill in her my mother’s love for music, for reading and learning. And now that my mother is gone, I hope that I can find a way to teach Madeleine what my mother taught me, while passing on to her the realization that this is a gift from her grandmother, even though she is not here to do it herself.

My mother never liked to confide in me mostly because she knew that I would worry and feel guilty because I couldn’t do anything to fix it. I knew that something was wrong last Christmas when Leigh and I visited her, even just briefly for the holiday. She was losing weight, which was a good thing in her case, but she also was weak and bent from back pain. Then in July, just before Madeleine was born, she was even more drawn and thin. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong until the week after Maddie was born and then she told me that she had been diagnosed in May with advanced pancreatic and liver cancer. I knew something was wrong with her health, but I didn’t expect it to be so devastating. With my medical knowledge, I understood that was a death sentence and one that would come quickly. She told me that they had given her 6 months to 2 years survival time. My mom was trying to be optimistic, that her doctor was the best oncologist in Eugene and had fought her insurance company (the government) to get her enrolled in a new chemotherapy study. And that they were doing everything they could to make her comfortable and extend her life.

After she left that day, I cried like a baby and wished that my mother’s optimism was well-founded. I started making plans to spend Thanksgiving with her and kept my fingers crossed that she would still be here. I also stressed about when I would be able to get down to spend time with her. But while Madeleine and I were bonding and struggling with the breastfeeding, I knew that travel, even just down to Eugene, just wasn’t going to be possible for awhile. Finally, when Maddie was 6 weeks old, in early September, I decided I needed to make the trip and couldn’t put it off any longer. I could at least help out buying groceries or taking her to the doctor, even if I couldn’t stay with her or do much else for her while I fulfilled my responsibilities to Maddie. 

The day that I arrived, I could see she looked so very tired. She was having significant vomiting spells. I left her that day with the promise that I would do grocery shopping for her the next day and that I would take her to her doctor’s appointment the day after. She called me less than 3 hours later and told me that she needed me to come get her to go to her doctor and I needed to hurry. 

They drew blood and told her to go home and wait for the results the next day. That frustrated me, especially seeing just how weak and uncomfortable she was. When I drover her home, I tried to make her promise that she would either call me or 911 if she got any worse. I don’t think I really trusted her to be able to take any kind of care of herself, she seemed so weak. The next day, I couldn’t get ahold of her and had visions of her dead or passed out on the floor somewhere at home. I discovered, finally, that she called 911 late that night. I finally found her at the hospital that afternoon after worrying and worrying when I couldn’t reach her at home. You never really expect to call the hospital, ask if your loved one checked in by chance and have them say, “why yes, she came in early this morning…”

Two days later she had a stroke and 8 days later she was gone. She was certainly mentally gone well before that and physically, she was only a shell. The last days were painful for me emotionally, definitely they were exceptionally painful for her, but thankfully I had a lot of support from my good friend Emily and Leigh who was able to get time off from work. Thankfully, too, my aunt Sherri and Uncle Scott were good enough to put up with me camping out at their house for two weeks. While they were out of town, my cousin Kailee was moving back in with her husband and son and was able to keep me company and help raise my spirits.

I was constantly torn between my desire to be with Maddie and my desire to spend time with my mother and make sure she was comfortable. She was her stubborn self until the very end, which meant that the hospital had to post a nurse’s aid with her around the clock so she wouldn’t try to get out of bed. In her state, she was not steady physically and fell at least once before they put the 24-hour watch on her. She was frustrated with her inability to communicate and that made the last days all the more difficult.

I did what I could to be her advocate and to make sure she wasn’t forgotten, especially after listening to Emily’s experience with her mom in the hospital and in hospice. It’s not that the nurses don’t care, but I watched them hurry around between all of their various patients and understood how things can fall through the cracks. Initially, they all relied on my mother to be able to them when or if she was in pain. That just wasn’t working; I could see how restless and edgy she was. I harassed and harangued the nurses to stay on top of her pain, but it took me and the social workers at least 4 or 5 days before the nurses understood what I was after and how to treat her. I watched as each different nurse and aide interacted with my mother and knew instantly which ones would drive her crazy and which ones would make her comfortable. None of them would fully be able to get her cooperation, but some came closer than others. And it made me appreciate what the end for all of us might bring, a lack of control. 

I called as many of her friends as I could and my uncle, who had lost touch with her, because I didn’t want my mother to be alone in the hospital. I knew that I couldn’t be there all day and night, though I wished that I could. And I hope that I was able to facilitate some good-byes for her in the end, even though she wasn’t able to speak.

Those last days, which seemed surreal to me then, were spent on automatic pilot, but even once they were over and we had cleared out her house, I found that I didn’t really feel like crying. We whittled her life down to a small 5×5 storage unit. Most of her belongings went either to the dump or to Goodwill, which made me realize how much crap we really don’t need. This is what will happen to each and every one of us when our children or our families go through our belongings after we pass into the ether. I found myself comforting my mother’s friends far more than they were comforting me and I realized it was because I had been expecting this, and because I had done much of my grieving right after she told me about her diagnosis, while I was nursing and getting to know Madeleine.

I will always be hit at odd points, during odd conversations, and feel a surge of loss that will surprise me, but for a long time afterwards, I didn’t have the tears. Part of that lack of grief was the relief to get back home after two weeks of being away, and the desire to get to enjoying my time with Madeleine. Because she was my all-consuming focus and I was so happy to be able to get back to providing her with the attention she needed and hadn’t been able to get while I was in Eugene saying goodbye to my mother.

I was driving to work today, listening to NPR when Richie Havens started singing Here Comes the Sun. His gravelly voice reminded me of my mother because she loved his music and I couldn’t help but cry. If she had let herself accept that music wasn’t going to pay her bills, it might have offered her some of the solace she was looking for. There are a lot of things about her that I don’t know and never will know. She didn’t often let me in on a great many of the troubling things that kept her from living a normal life, one where she could have kept her house and been able to retire in peace and comfort. I hope now that she will be able to rest in peace, that she realizes that what was so painful down here on earth really didn’t need to be. And I hope that I did right by her in the end and that she forgives me for all the times that I didn’t give her the understanding that she so often needed.

We looked forward to our visit to SF for Quinton & Alex for months, and having had a trip to Tennessee for Leigh’s dad’s funeral the month before, we knew that Maddie would weather the trip well…except for the fact that we got in to Oakland after 11pm and didn’t get to the hotel until after midnight. Totally screwed up her sleep so that was a hard lesson learned.

All in all, however, it was a terrific trip with too few pictures and too little time spent with many of Leigh’s and my good friends. It was wonderful to show off little Maddie, and just as wonderful to leave her with a terrific nanny for a few hours of downtime, especially after two days of very fussy baby not so down with napping all of a sudden. 

We took a trip to Japantown for some culture, Korean food and Q&A’s wedding gift. 

 We ate breakfast at what apparently is an SF institution, Mel’s Diner. And managed to have some breakfast before she broke down the first day, and while she was sleeping the third day.

We were able to meet up with Leigh’s good friend Jeff and his wife and kids at the Exploratorium. Though she’ll likely have no memory of her time there, Maddie will be able to see herself in some good pics. I can see how parents would want season passes to this place. You can’t possibly take it all in over the course of a single visit and there’s no way to stay longer than a couple of hours before you go through system overload.

Neither of us really wanted to leave when it was time, especially because it meant that I had to start working and Leigh had to go back to work. Ah well. 

In order to give myself a break and make it easier to update from here, I thought I would just give the highlights of what I remember from the first two months:

The first couple of days were spent in the hospital. I tried to get them to send me home a day early but they were having none of it. It was nice to be able to, albeit with a guilty mind, turn Madeleine over to the nurses at midnight the 2nd & 3rd nights in order to get some sleep for an unbroken 3 hours, but it was nicer to go home. They discovered that she was a “tummy sleeper”, which apparently, most babies are. She still sleeps on her stomach and it means that I will probably wait as long as possible to transition her from co-sleeping to sleeping full nights in her own crib. 

The first week home it was nice to have my stepmother, Christina, here to help out with taking her during the day to give me some nap time, though I hesitated so much to part with her. Even now, I think I should give her more daddy time but it is difficult to let her go. I understand now what empty nesters must go through.

Unfortunately, Leigh had to go back to work the week after she was born.

She was holding her head up from birth, but still needed support often and she was scooting and grunting shortly after birth, so we’re afraid she may be walking early. We also discovered that she doesn’t like hats and doesn’t like to be swaddled. In addition, her favorite settling position is being held on her stomach with a thumb in her mouth (we had taken her pacifier away, only to give it back at 6 weeks of age). 

I had a few visitors during the first week home, namely my cousin Kailee and her son Caden, along with my Aunt Sherri and Uncle Scott. I also had a visit from my mother, which I will leave, perhaps, for another post.

Her first 6 weeks are a blur, mostly sleeping, feeding and diaper changing with a few of my own breakdowns and cry fests from lack of sleep or from grief (see post about my mother). I think most days I never changed out of my pajamas and many days I spent in front of the the television, catching up on old CSIs and getting into new shows like Eureka and Burn Notice (because when you’ve seen every MASH or Star Trek episode a million times, and you’ve watched about as much home improvement shows as you can handle unless your name is Leigh, trying new shows just makes sense).

Our first venture forth into the real world was at 2 weeks old in order to print photos for my mother. It ended in her screaming through the checkout process. I calmed her down enough to set her back in her carrier, where she almost promptly fell asleep, giving me an opportunity to go grocery shopping with no screaming whatsoever. I think at that point, I was still very afraid of her crying in a public place. I was still unsure of my own ability to read her signs and know what she needed. 

My good friend Emily and her son & husband moved back to the states when Mad was about 3 weeks old and we’ve been able to spend some good, quality time together.

Stephanie came to visit for a few days and we went out to our first dining experience as well as our first coffeehouse adventure.

Right about that time, she started smiling and cooing (was it Stephanie’s presence? We’ll never know). We also, at four weeks, gave her her 1st bath and she seemed to like it.

About 6 weeks of age, she started drooling, so we wonder if she’ll get a tooth early.

Then when Madeleine was 6 weeks old, our routine was completely disrupted.

 I’m a little late in posting this particular bit and will likely let the photos do most of the talking. It was a very wonderful, unexpectedly sunny day in Seattle and Stephanie, who is the most generous friend for hosting not only my 30th birthday party when it occurred, but she also threw our wedding shower and then offered to throw us a baby shower as well. I still haven’t come up with an appropriate way to say “thank you” (at least a massage gift cert is in order I think). 

It was so nice to see all of those who were able to make it. I think the kids actually may have outnumbered (or at least equalled) the adult population.

My friend Mark, who, like us, was surprised by his partner’s own pregnancy, brought his new family with him…two very cute little girls under 5, I think! It’s been good training for him because I’d be willing to bet his girlfriend has another girl (she knows the gender, but he doesn’t).

Mary & Thomas, Nirmala & Donald, Stephanie’s mom Anne, Jill & Mattson with their two toddlers, and Colin & Hye Jung with their brood as well all made the festivities well worth the drive from Hood River just by coming to celebrate the event.  

Hopefully we won’t have to wait for another baby to see everyone again! And it’s been so long since the day, that I have to ask apologies in advance if I forgot anyone who came!

After waffling for several days about whether or not to make the trip to Florence for the Ginsberg annual OCF trip, I felt good enough to be gung-ho about sleeping on the ground while being 9 months pregnant. I pulled together emergency numbers (just in case) for Eugene hospitals and checked with my doctor and midwife that there were no obvious signs of impending labor (not that it couldn’t happen at the drop of a hat at this point), made sure that Leigh had all the same numbers and managed to get on the road with a lot of energy. By the time I got to the site that night at 6:30, however, and set up the tent and the air mattress by myself (Leigh couldn’t make it until the next night), I was ready for the inevitable 2-hour nap!

It was so nice to spend the night under the stars with the pine smell and the cool coastal breeze as a remedy for the insufferably hot Gorge weather that’s been a little overwhelming the last week or so. The first night I managed to say hi to Stephanie & her brother’s crew and that was about it before I hit the tent and actually slept pretty damn well for having to struggle to get my big fat belly and ass off the ground to get up to pee at least 3 or 4 times that night. 

I felt good enough the next morning to contemplate spending a few hours wandering around the always colorful Country Fair. For those of you who have never been or never heard of it, it’s basically a giant hippie fest that’s been going on for almost 40 years. There used to be a lot more nudity and a lot stronger smells of the Ganja, but nowadays they bill it as “family fare”. However, if you are part of a family that gets shocked and easily offended by nudity and some raunchy costumes, you will not be very happy. When I was growing up, a lot of people in town (usually from Springfield) would go to twitter and turn red at the spectacle of naked men and women. Ah well. There’s a ton of good food (Ritta’s burritos all the way), lively and friendly attitude, and beautiful, artistic displays of individuality. Highly recommend a trip. Plus the crafts and clothes are unique if not expensive.

The only thing I bought besides a lot of food and lemonade, was a painted belly:

I had two very respectable looking men stop me and ask quite politely if they could take my picture. I also got a lot of thumbs up and very joyful looks. I saw one woman pointing at me and telling her friend that that was going to be one happy baby, she could tell just from the sunflower on my expanding belly. And, the funniest thing was when a mother and father pointed me out to their 5 or 6-year-old son to tell him that the first time he’d come to the fair he’d been about as old as the baby in my belly. The little boy looked a little skeptical and unsure as to what to do with the information. But his parents looked so thrilled to be able to be telling him this that I couldn’t help but laugh with them. It was a celebration for me of the growing being I am carrying, but it was also nice to know that my act of “exposure” brought some amount of joy and happy amusement to others.

I think I’m already allowing my time off to affect my brain in a good way. We’ve lived in Hood River for a year and a half and have probably seen my good friend Emily’s dad Jim (with the cherry orchard in Mosier where we met and later married) a handful of times (bad Amanda!), though I think of him often and mean to see him more often. Since Monday I’ve been both busy and leisurely. On Monday I met our friend Tricia (also unexpectedly in the baby way) for lunch and a very lovely scoop of Ginger Chai ice cream. I meandered through Ikea to find *a bunch* of furniture and baby items that I longed to purchase. I was good, though, and only bought what I went there for: a dresser (well, 2) for the baby things. (Part of that nesting instinct? or maybe I’m just feeling embarrassed that all of our baby clothes & accessories are neatly piled in the day crib covered by a blanket so the cats don’t leave their cat hair everywhere when they sleep on top of it, which they inevitably do).

Then on Tuesday I decided to head to The Dalles to get some wood stain for the dressers and, as I do every time I come up on the Mosier exit on my way, I thought of Jim and wondered how he was doing, how the cherry harvest was going, and what he was up to. I realized that I had nowhere in particular to be, no real schedule to keep and, with the exception of waiting on the baby, I really had all the time in the world! So I veered off the highway and headed into Mosier to see him. Luckily, he was at the house (and not yet taking his afternoon nap?) and we managed to catch up. Bonus: cherries to take home with me!

I spent the remainder of the afternoon Tues. & morning on Monday pitting and freezing cherries. I meant to get photos of my cherry-stained fingers and just haven’t gotten into the swing of snapping photos of every detail, so the text will have to suffice. I pitted enough very ripe cherries to fill about 8 good-sized containers, so now I’ll have to look up some good recipes so they don’t go to waste. I will eat the rest this weekend if we go camping on the Oregon coast. If they last that long! Yum!