Joey's got Vertigo. It came upon him suddenly yesterday afternoon as soon as we got home from Montera Beach. It was awful to watch him spiral downward into a shell of who he normally is. Selfishly, I was upset that he "had to get this" on our Anniversary. But then, after a quick check of the spirit, I realized that we had just gotten back from a wonderful weekend full of fun anniversary stuff, and that we were, essentially, done with our celebration by the time we got home. The only thing left was to have a slice of our anniversary cake (which I had been looking forward to intensely!).
In a split second, I went from feeling frustrated with him for feeling sick to being relieved and thankful we were home before it all hit him. Then, before I knew what hit me, I was scared. Terrified. Even though Joey was pretty sure it was Vertigo, my mind played games on itself and I had big scary scenarios all lined up in my mind (like heat stroke, a brain tumor, a head injury, etc). Watching him struggle to walk just a few steps, not being able to do anything to cool our room down (it was intensely hot last night), and feeling powerless to do anything but simply tell him that I'm there if he needs anything... it made me realize how truly out of control I am over so much. And even though our first year of marriage hasn't been difficult, or perhaps because our first year has been so good, I felt in control of things. But last night I felt completely out of control. Even though my head knows that ultimately we aren't in control, I realized in a profound way last night that things can change in an instant, and our whole world can be thrown off balance.
I spent the evening watching a bad movie, eating good ice cream, and wondering what would happen next. When I finally went to bed, I watched him intensely for several minutes to make sure he was still breathing. I was afraid that something more severe was going on and that we should have rushed him to the emergency room. Instead, I had to lay there next to my husband on our first anniversary willing myself not to worry about him, but to trust that not only was Joey right, but that God was in control.
Today, he's better. Not great, but better. We were able to get him in to see a doctor first thing this morning, but she didn't do a whole lot for him, except for perhaps allay our fears that something more serious was going on. Today? Today I'm realizing that perhaps I overreact to things, even though my heart is in the right place. Having my heart in the right place doesn't really do a whole lot to help the situation except to reassure Joey that I'm here for him. Today I wonder how I'll grapple with things that are more serious. I cried last night when Joey fell asleep, not because I was upset he was sick on our anniversary, but because I was scared of the unknown. Today I realize that every day is an unknown. And adding a baby to the mix makes things even more of an unknown. Someone new to worry about, right?
But the kicker is that worrying doesn't accomplish anything. It's hard not to worry, and it's difficult to take thoughts captive and not allow our imaginations to run away with us, but seriously, it's something I am choosing to do because I cannot live life in fear. It's debilitating. Living a life of worry or fear simply isn't living.
Anyway, I think I'm starting to ramble. The good news? Joey's trying to type along with me as I write this. I think he's getting bored of laying around feeling dizzy. Or perhaps he's feeling a little bit better. I think it's a combination of both.
Happy first anniversary to us!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Stream of Consciousness
I admit it. I'm at work, and technically I should be working, except that I cannot concentrate, I'm uncomfortable, and I feel like I could fall asleep at any moment. My sinuses hurt, which is causing a nearly unbearable headache, and to make matters worse, all I want is a big, tall, icy cold Coke. The one thing that I should NOT have. Caffeine + unneccessary amounts of sugar = not the best choice for my pregnant self. What I should do is get up and get a tall glass of water, but there's a helium tank blocking the water fountain, and I don't feel up to finding another one.
Up until this point I've felt like my classes have been somewhat of an inconvenience to me. An unwanted interruption in the middle of my day that makes everything so much more stressful and busy than I'd like. Now that it's over, I feel a little sense of loss, like I'm losing something that I've invested a lot of myself in, and now I'm not sure what to do with myself. I've experienced this before--it's not new. Graduations, job changes, moves--they all bring this sense of "What now?" with them. And somehow, I always figure out what to do with myself when the next step comes.
Transitioning to part time here is a beautiful blessing that is scary and unsure. The cut in pay isn't that much, but what makes it seem more significant is the loss of medical coverage. Trying to figure out how to get coverage when you're 4 months pregnant doesn't seem smart, if you ask me. Seems like folks could deny me. Suddenly I'm worried that this decision was flippant, that I made it out of my own selfishness instead of making a logical, sound decision. But when I think about grading piles of essays, tests and homework; planning lessons; reading and lecturing on novels; and all of the administrative stuff that comes along with teaching, I know that this is a blessing. Not having to work more than 6 hours a day when our little baby arrives will be something I am utterly grateful for. Today, I'm trying to keep my eye on that truth, instead of the obstacle of needing health insurance and having to revise our budget.
Being pregnant comes with such a strange mix of emotions. One day, I'm perfectly fine, happy to be alive and secure in the knowledge that this is God's grace to my fearful heart that actually believed (however irrationally) that children would be an impossibility for me. With nothing more than my own anxiety to base that idea on, I realize now how crazy I must have sounded when I would talk about my fears. But still, being so irrational about it, and wanting it desperately, made acceptance more difficult than I ever imagined it would be. I thought I'd jump for joy, cry my eyes out, and relish the idea of being a mom-to-be. Instead, I cried a little, but mostly I shook. And I approached this pregnancy thing with an attitude of disbelief. I thought the doctors were wrong, and that I was right. That their instruments were flawed, and that my finite mind was more intuitive than they were. Even when we finally heard the heart beat, I doubted. Now that my tummy is starting to protrude and my pants don't fit without one of those belly band things, I'm starting to reconsider. And yet, I have a new fear that when they finally do the ultrasound, the baby will be a tumor that secretes hormones that make it SEEM like I'm pregnant, or that something will be wrong and the baby will be sick or disfigured. Talk about hope, eh?
Joey tells me that I can be crazy and irrational because he'll be the rational one for both of us. His belief is inspiring, comforting, and reassuring most of the time. But there are still those dark moments when I put on a smile and act like I'm secure about all this, when in reality I'm doubting something. If it's not the idea of the baby itself, then it's the idea of myself as a mother. And I know, in my rational mind, that all of it is a load of crap. But I also know that it feels very real to me, and I feel almost like I've got a split personality about all of it.
I told Christy early on that it felt like everyone was more excited about this baby than I was, and that was such a hard thing to admit because it felt like I was saying that I wasn't excited for this child, or that I didn't love it or wasn't happy about it. The good news? She absolutely understood. She had felt the same way when she was first pregnant with Brennan. After talking to her about it, I think the truth is that I feel this way because I'm the one who's carrying it all--the baby, the anxiety, the pressure, the fear...I'm the one who deals with the reality of it every single second of every single day.
But then there are those glittering moments where I see that everything is just as it should be, that this is the time I've been waiting for, praying for, yearning for. This is a dream come true. A prayer answered. And I guess in the end, that's the real truth to hold on to.
Up until this point I've felt like my classes have been somewhat of an inconvenience to me. An unwanted interruption in the middle of my day that makes everything so much more stressful and busy than I'd like. Now that it's over, I feel a little sense of loss, like I'm losing something that I've invested a lot of myself in, and now I'm not sure what to do with myself. I've experienced this before--it's not new. Graduations, job changes, moves--they all bring this sense of "What now?" with them. And somehow, I always figure out what to do with myself when the next step comes.
Transitioning to part time here is a beautiful blessing that is scary and unsure. The cut in pay isn't that much, but what makes it seem more significant is the loss of medical coverage. Trying to figure out how to get coverage when you're 4 months pregnant doesn't seem smart, if you ask me. Seems like folks could deny me. Suddenly I'm worried that this decision was flippant, that I made it out of my own selfishness instead of making a logical, sound decision. But when I think about grading piles of essays, tests and homework; planning lessons; reading and lecturing on novels; and all of the administrative stuff that comes along with teaching, I know that this is a blessing. Not having to work more than 6 hours a day when our little baby arrives will be something I am utterly grateful for. Today, I'm trying to keep my eye on that truth, instead of the obstacle of needing health insurance and having to revise our budget.
Being pregnant comes with such a strange mix of emotions. One day, I'm perfectly fine, happy to be alive and secure in the knowledge that this is God's grace to my fearful heart that actually believed (however irrationally) that children would be an impossibility for me. With nothing more than my own anxiety to base that idea on, I realize now how crazy I must have sounded when I would talk about my fears. But still, being so irrational about it, and wanting it desperately, made acceptance more difficult than I ever imagined it would be. I thought I'd jump for joy, cry my eyes out, and relish the idea of being a mom-to-be. Instead, I cried a little, but mostly I shook. And I approached this pregnancy thing with an attitude of disbelief. I thought the doctors were wrong, and that I was right. That their instruments were flawed, and that my finite mind was more intuitive than they were. Even when we finally heard the heart beat, I doubted. Now that my tummy is starting to protrude and my pants don't fit without one of those belly band things, I'm starting to reconsider. And yet, I have a new fear that when they finally do the ultrasound, the baby will be a tumor that secretes hormones that make it SEEM like I'm pregnant, or that something will be wrong and the baby will be sick or disfigured. Talk about hope, eh?
Joey tells me that I can be crazy and irrational because he'll be the rational one for both of us. His belief is inspiring, comforting, and reassuring most of the time. But there are still those dark moments when I put on a smile and act like I'm secure about all this, when in reality I'm doubting something. If it's not the idea of the baby itself, then it's the idea of myself as a mother. And I know, in my rational mind, that all of it is a load of crap. But I also know that it feels very real to me, and I feel almost like I've got a split personality about all of it.
I told Christy early on that it felt like everyone was more excited about this baby than I was, and that was such a hard thing to admit because it felt like I was saying that I wasn't excited for this child, or that I didn't love it or wasn't happy about it. The good news? She absolutely understood. She had felt the same way when she was first pregnant with Brennan. After talking to her about it, I think the truth is that I feel this way because I'm the one who's carrying it all--the baby, the anxiety, the pressure, the fear...I'm the one who deals with the reality of it every single second of every single day.
But then there are those glittering moments where I see that everything is just as it should be, that this is the time I've been waiting for, praying for, yearning for. This is a dream come true. A prayer answered. And I guess in the end, that's the real truth to hold on to.
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