Day 14: "What Is Something That Adds Sweetness To Your Life?"

 Love adds the largest dose of sweetness to my life.

 I have been blessed to have the two greatest loves of my life. First, there was Rich. He came into my life at a time when I was sure I would never marry and never have children. But he, with his gentle and loving ways, showed me that there could be a marriage of spirits that didn’t include bitterness and domestic violence.

 

I lost him in 2001, when he was only forty years old. At 28, he’d had congestive heart failure due to cardiomyopathy. After a consultation with a cardiac surgeon at Johns Hopkins, a geneticist was called in. Rich was very tall, severely myopic, double-jointed, and had unusual stretch marks on his shoulders. The geneticist determined that he had Marfan Syndrome. The cardiac surgeon replaced Rich’s leaky aortic valve with one made of metal. When all was quiet, the kids and I could hear Rich tick like a watch. In fact, he put all our cranky babies to sleep by placing them on his chest.

 One morning, we found he was gone. No more ticking.

 Rich, as his health declined that year, said he wanted me to go on and find someone else after he passed away. I was horrified. I didn’t want to think of the possibility of Rich’s passing. If he did, there could be no other.

I blogged earlier about how I came to meet Ted.  I signed up for a 3 month membership with a dating service because I was lonely and looking for a pen pal. When Ted’s profile first appeared in my email, I deleted it. His photo reminded me of Rich, and his interests were similar. I deleted a lot of other profiles, too. There were one or two who lived in the Midwest that I corresponded with briefly, but we didn’t have enough in common to continue. I decided to cancel my membership.

Just as my membership ended, Ted’s profile showed up again. As my finger moved to the delete button, I heard Rich’s voice say, “Give him a chance.” So, I did. Ted lived in New Jersey and the kids and I lived on Long Island. We began emailing each other. We had so much in common, and he really was a lot like Rich. It was semi-painful but also comforting. We began calling each other and spent hours chatting back and forth. Then we began a real long-distance relationship, taking turns visiting each other and going out on dates.

 I didn’t think I would ever find a love like the one I had with Rich. It’s almost miraculous that I have such a strong love again with Ted. It’s the same but also very different. At this point, Ted and I can just about read each other’s thoughts, finish each other’s sentences. We are in tune, body and soul.

 

There is even more love adding sweetness to my life: my children with Rich, Bill, Heidi, and Kristin. I couldn’t be prouder of the wonderful young people they’ve grown to be. I look at them in wonder sometimes because in their growing years, I was full of mothering doubt. Was I like my mother, who was mentally ill and abusive? Sometimes I felt confident I’d learned enough not to be. Yet there were times I became angry and yelled. Did my face look demonic then, as my mother’s had to me? But now as I reflect, I believe I must have done something right for the way they’ve turned out.

 

When Ted and I married, we blended our families. He had two grown daughters, Michele and Linda. Michele was already married then with three little ones and Linda was dating a young man named Kennan. Blending wasn’t easy. Michele and Linda missed their mother dearly. My kids missed Rich.

 

Over the years, though, we’ve learned to accept and love each other. Michele was widowed a few years ago. Recently, she re-connected with a guy she knew from her high school years, Gary. Just a couple of weeks ago, we celebrated their marriage. We supported Michele all the way. We’d been in her shoes, and we knew the fall out from kids missing their deceased parent. Michele and Gary are in the midst of blending their families.

 We have eight grandchildren between Michele and Linda. Sadly, all but one live far from New Jersey. Three are with Linda and Jay in Virginia; Michele, Gary, and Michele’s adult kids are all in Tennessee. One grandchild is in New Jersey, Linda’s firstborn with Kennan. Tomas is and has been a source of love and joy for all his nineteen years.

 

I absolutely cannot leave out our four-footed feline babies: Gus, Bandit, Bootsie and Nugget.

 

 

Nor can I leave out the love of my dear friends.

 My life would not be so sweet without all the love that’s been added to it.

I am participating in the American Cancer Society’s challenge to write for thirty minutes each day in May. I do a lot of writing and I can meet this challenge. I plan to make a blog entry each day with what I’ve written.

I wanted to participate in memory of loved ones who fought cancer bravely but succumbed:

My brother-in-law Jeff

My sister-in-law Ann

My dear friend Kay

My Uncle Bob

My Uncle John

 

I also wanted to help raise money to support research and a cure for those currently fighting this vicious disease.

My Facebook to the fundraiser is here. 

Day 10: Best Mother's Day Gift

My late first husband, Rich, and I wanted a family. I was 30 years old, and he was 25 when we married so we knew we couldn’t wait a long time to start. I was so regular; I knew right away when I was first pregnant.  We both smoked but after seeing a commercial in which the baby also “smoked” through the placenta, I said: “We quit cold turkey.”

Nicotine withdrawal and hormonal changes are challenging enough but I also had to give up caffeinated coffee. Rich and I suffered together and somehow survived most of the awful cravings. I indulged in one: chocolate.

My obstetrical practice had a midwife, and I wanted her to deliver our baby. Rich totally supported the idea. We had all the usual prenatal visits and midwife Ellen thought my due date would be May 1, 1987. Rich and I took birthing classes, wanting this to be a natural process. We practiced touch relaxation and the different types of breathing.

Meanwhile, I was growing larger. Quitting cigarettes and coffee had led to another addiction: candy.

I always enjoyed walking. Rich and I used to walk together all the time, but he was working long hours now at a market research company. I would get up early and go for a long walk in our neighborhood after he’d gone to work. Still, I felt big and awkward.

Rich told me there was a baby pool at work. People were choosing dates beginning in April and going into May. I thought it amusing until he told me he’d chosen Mother’s Day, May 10^th. Oh no, I moaned. I didn’t want to go that long. My due date was May 1, it was the first week of April, and I was already to go NOW.

Our baby had different ideas. We’d had a couple of ultrasounds and Ellen asked if we’d like to know the baby’s sex. We both said NO, we wanted to be surprised. We’d picked out names for either sex.

I was seeing Ellen every week at this point. I was eager to go into labor, but the baby felt just fine floating in my womb. Ellen suggested walking more often, and so I did. I went for long walks twice a day.

On May 9, I started out on my usual walk, stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk and went down. The mail carrier had just pulled up and he totally panicked, running to my side. He wanted to call for an ambulance, and I was trying to calm him. I was OK, I said. He helped me to my feet. I’d ripped my pants at the knees, and I could feel blood trickling down.

The mail carrier insisted on escorting me back to the apartment I shared with Rich. I assured him over and over that I was ok and yes, yes, I would sit down and rest. When he left, I went into the bathroom and washed my scraped knees, put some antibiotics on, and band-aids.

I changed my jeans and headed back out to walk. My route went from our block to the next block of apartments and then into the neighborhood of houses. I was strolling along, enjoying the fresh air and greeting other moms walking their babies in strollers. I was leaving the apartment complex when I heard a shout: “HEY! What are you doing out here?”

It was the concerned mail carrier. He couldn’t believe I was out walking again. I’m OK, I’m fine, I assured him. I’m just trying to encourage labor.

He shook his head, said good luck, and went on his merry way.

The next day, while Rich was at work, my water broke. I called Ellen and she said, “I’m supposed to tell you to get to the hospital but if you’re not having contractions yet, try walking around. But if they don’t start within the hour, you need to come to the hospital.”

I called Rich. I walked and walked and walked some more. Nothing. Rich left work early. It would take him 45 minutes to get home and once he arrived, we headed ff to the hospital. Ellen met us there.

The baby preferred to stay put. I didn’t want to be induced so Rich and I walked the halls for over an hour. Finally, Ellen said she had to have me induced because my water had broken and there was a danger of infection.

This was an outcome we’d feared. We remembered our birthing instructor said the being induced caused immediate strong contractions with little breaks to rest. Most induced mothers needed to have epidurals. That was the last thing I wanted. Rich promised he’d coach me through it all and that he would talk me out of getting an epidural.

The instructor was right: the contractions hit hard and fast, lasting forever. One would stop and I didn’t have much time to breathe before another one hit. It was pretty intense. I was almost fully dilated and asking for an epidural. But Rich was an excellent coach. His face was close to mine, and he was helping me breathe through those painful contractions.

The obstetrician on call periodically checked in on us. There was another patient from the practice at the other end of the hall. The two of us were at about the same stage in labor. Sometimes I could hear the doctor racing up and down the hall to see which of us would deliver first. I heard him consulting with Ellen. He wanted to do a Caesarian.

“No, let’s give her a chance,” Ellen said. Thank God for her presence!

At last, it was time to begin pushing. The doctor was with the other mother, so it was just Ellen, Rich, and me.

And then, our baby was finally ready to be delivered. “It’s a boy!” Ellen exclaimed joyfully.

I was exhausted and thrilled. Rich proudly took our little boy in his arms and sat down with him while I finished delivering the placenta. Before our son was whisked away to the nursery, I had a chance to cuddle him myself.

I had no idea what time it was and learned it was almost 5 a.m., Mother’s Day morning.  Later, I held our son again in my arms and felt blessed. He was the most special Mother’s Day gift.

He still is.

Once again, this is my pledge to write for at least a half hour every day:

I am participating in the American Cancer Society’s challenge to write for thirty minutes each day in May. I do a lot of writing and I can meet this challenge. I plan to make a blog entry each day with what I’ve written.

I wanted to participate in memory of loved ones who fought cancer bravely but succumbed:

My brother-in-law Jeff

My sister-in-law Ann

My dear friend Kay

My Uncle Bob

My Uncle John

 

I also wanted to help raise money to support research and a cure for those currently fighting this vicious disease.

My Facebook to the fundraiser is here.