Tuesday, April 21, 2009

In Which My Heartstrings Are Pulled in Many Different Directions

Yesterday I received an e-mail from my former boss telling me that a woman, let's just call her Ladybug, had stopped by the office looking for me. She thought that Ladybug had been a former housing client of mine.

I looked at Ladybug's name and indeed, she was a former housing client of mine. One who'd been a giant success story when it came to how well her cocktail of psych meds worked for her - sadly many people with schizophrenia improve with medication, but are still never really "normal" again, whereas Ladybug was pretty damned "normal" once she stabilized on her meds. I was curious as to what prompted this reach out after nearly 5 years of me having been gone from the center.

Today I called her, and we talked a bit before she revealed the reason for her wanting to get in touch with me. Being pregnant, I teared up with emotion when she told me that the 4 (or more? she couldn't remember anymore) people who'd been put in my housing coordinator position over the past 5 years have "never even come close to how good you were, Heather. Never. And I think about you a lot."

Guilt seared me as I was instantly back in time 5 years ago and worrying about if my clients would receive a good replacement for me. I'd had my doubts then and now I had confirmation.

Pride fluffed my ego as I felt good about my past performance.

Helplessness hit me as I am no longer a social worker and removed from that world.

I was humbled that in 5 years I have not given many second thoughts to the people for whom I used to work so hard, and yet one had not forgotten me.

Anyway, Ladybug's oldest daughter had had a hard semester at the community college and her student aid was being pulled. She had to take 2 [self-paid] courses with a C or better before she would get her funding back and was now considering dropping out at the prospect of having to take classes without any means to pay for them. Like any good mother, Ladybug does NOT want to see this happen and was wondering about resources that could help her daughter remain in school.

And of course, I was stumped. But, I gave her my standard, "Why don't you call 211 and see if there is anything they can hook you up with," response with the caveat that I wasn't sure if she'd find anything, but it was worth a shot.

We talked some more and at the end, Ladybug asked me shyly, "Is it ok if I keep your number and call if anything else comes up?"

I'm not a social worker anymore, and now I can put myself forward as just a person who loves others as Christ has shown me to do. As a social worker, this would have been a taboo move to make, but there was something freeing about the answer I put forth: "Sure, Ladybug. Maybe we can even get lunch together sometime."

I used to think that God called me to my work within the constructs of the institutions that I was employed by over the years, but with this phone call, I see that He has freed me from those constructs and I can do the same work as He leads me to do it and still be here for my children and husband.

Clarity. At last.

Monday, April 20, 2009

A Fitting Song du Jour

Sidenote: So the whole 420 thing has to do with 4:20 as in a time, not today's date, but somehow it has evolved into a day of cannabis celebrations.

Tonight, LMNOB was heard singing, "I feel so high. I feel so high, so very, very high...." and Charlie Brown and I both snickered, knowing that her words were so very apropos for potheads the world over.

The context, however, was merely that Daddy had raised her bike seat.




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Another Week Down

Thursday last week I woke up at 4:00 a.m. with what I thought were Labor Pains. As in what was going to be the Start of Birth.

But alas, after a day of irregular contractions, this li'l one's birth was so not happening.

The weekend was uneventful and by then I was getting cynical. For the most part. I still envisioned hearing that I was progressing right along at my Dr.'s appointment on Monday morning.

Until I went, got examined, and heard the doctor say, "Unfortunately I don't think there's been any change over last week."

Damn my body and her false hopes!

So this week I've just been trying to keep busy and know that things will happen when they're meant to happen.

Easier said than done.




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

The Suspense is Killing Me....

Preface this post with the fact that Pitocin played a huge role in both of my previous labors, i.e. my body has yet to really prepare for birth on its own. LMNOB's was a medically necessitated induction at 39 wks because I was going preeclamptic. Punkinhead's on the other hand, was a "failure to progress" type of induction as my water broke but then I didn't have any contractions/dilation following that.

So....this time around, I've had symptoms, as in What to Expect When You are Expecting (and other such books) milestones that they say to look for towards the end.

Like how two Fridays ago I had hardcore cramping - like, did I not have a giant belly with a baby squirming all to hell in it, I would have SWORN I was about to start a messy period type cramping. Later that night, I went to the bathroom and out came a big ole glop of mucous. Like seriously, huge.

Mucous Plug?!? As in Labor is coming soon???

I had to have validation and called out to Charlie Brown, "I think I just lost my mucous plug - come see!"

To which he responded, "Uhm, thanks, but I'll pass on dissecting the loogie your vagina just hocked."

Rather than being upset, I was in awe at his comeback.

The rest of that weekend - got us nothing. I was told the following Monday, however, that I was at 1 cm and about 50% effaced.

Last week I just had intermittent cramping - nothing to write home about. And at last Monday's appt, I was at maybe 1.5 cm and about the same thinness.

This past Monday, I was at 2 cm and 70% effaced, so I was pleased to hear that.

Then I had some bloody show that night - but I brushed it off and blamed it on the exam, as it had hurt a bit.

Then there was more yesterday around noonish. Along with the bad back cramps. So I started to think this is it, we're gonna go soon.

And last night, another ginormous glob of mucous, with blood this time, and more back cramps. I have been feeling a LOT of pressure yesterday and today, and this afternoon when I got with a friend, she was like, "That baby is WAY low today - I mean you look WAY different!"

So now I just want to meet this little guy - we're ready, Bud.




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 6, 2009

See Honey, The Princess Dress-Up Never Confused His Gender Identity At All!

Chalk this up to another one of those times.

When Punkinhead was a wee lad, he loved to do all things LMNOB. As LMNOB was in the full-on-Disney-Princess-Barbie-PINK!-Glam-dress-up mode, this often meant that Punkinhead would traipse down the stairs clad in ensembles so effeminate even drag queens would find them distasteful. This was to the horror of one Charlie Brown. Oh, he'd laugh and say he was just teasing, but I knew it really bothered him when, on occasion, I would become an accomplice to this gender-bending play by including Punkinhead in the home-done mani-pedi days that LMNOB and I would have. Then Charlie Brown would scold me and say, "Why are you ADDING to this?"

And I would just raise my eyebrows and say, "1. Thought you didn't REALLY care, and 2. All little boys who happen to have a big sister imitate what they see, it doesn't last forever, you'll see."

Fast forward several years to yesterday.

A group from church has recently starting singing for the nursing home in our neighborhood on the first Sunday of the month. We decided to join them yesterday. The singing was wonderful, the kids were beautifully behaved, and the elderly attendants were greatly entertained. When we were done, folks from the group mingled with the residents of the home, saying hello and giving them a little TLC.

LMNOB and Punkinhead were like celebrities amongst these guys and one little old lady, bless her everlovin' heart, rolled over to Punkinhead in her wheelchair, clasped his face and proclaimed, "You are such a beautiful little GIRL."

Horrified and indignant, Punkinhead's eyes grew big and he loudly informed her, "I'm not a GIRL, SHE is," as he pointed to his sister emphatically. But it didn't stop there, no, he had to add on for clarification, "I'm a BOY!"

Charlie Brown stepped in and swooped him up apologetically, then had a discussion with Punkinhead about how sometimes when people get really old, their brains don't work as well as they used to and they confuse their words. This surely was the case with this sweet old lady and she didn't mean any harm by what she said, she got a little confused.

We and our friends, however, are not yet so addled in our minds and we laughed about this all night long.




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved