The Pain of Parenting Begins
A green smiley face.
That is what marks my sweet girl’s behavior daily at kindergarten. There is a calendar - and every day I know - green smiley face = good Delaney. If she misbehaved a little, I’d see that warning ‘yellow’ and well, you can see where this is going, red = notsogoodatall.
One time. That is how many times she has come home with a yellow this school year.
Until last Thursday. But we didn’t know until Monday.
Why? Because she was taking the calendar out of her folder and hiding it.
As for me, well, I forgot to ask. Because she always came home with a green.
My husband figured it out. As soon as he asked, the tears started. The hyperventilating began.
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t stop crying. We promised we wouldn’t be mad - we just needed to know what happened.
My heart fractured a little more with each tear, with each labored breathe - what in the world could have happened to cause this type of trauma?
I actually started to get scared.
Little by little, the story came out in spurts.
She had kicked a little boy.
He hadn’t done anything wrong.
She had been told to do it.
By an ‘older’ girl she adores.
Hence the devastation. Even at ‘almost-six-going-on-sixteen’, she feels betrayed and embarrassed.
And I feel like the air has left the room. I wasn’t ready for this. I’m not ready for this. I’m hugging her tightly, as if I can block the pain of growing up and realizing you can’t trust everybody with my embrace. I quickly wipe the tear that seeps from the corner of right eye. It wouldn’t help her tears if she saw mine.
I think….I hope….we covered everything.
No, she can’t kick someone. It is ok to make a mistake. Trust your own little heart - even if someone tells you to do something - you do know right from wrong. We aren’t mad at you. You can ALWAYS talk to us. We WANT you to talk to us. We trust you. We love you. (Did I miss anything?)
My heart hurts as I write - just knowing we are the very beginning of the long and treacherous road of ‘growing up’. I hope I am equipped.
If you have suggestions, well, honestly, I’d love them.
I wish colon cancer didn’t exist….
They moved in to the neighborhood just a few months after we did….and yet I don’t really know them. I could probably walk from my door to theirs in less than 100 paces, but we never do more than smile and wave.
I figure that’s because they are considerably older - a couple clearly retired and enjoying their home and each other’s company. They have worked hard to be able to spend this time together. And we are usually in our cul-de-sac with half a dozen kids - while their children are grown with kids of their own.
Lately I’ve had to navigate my way around three or four cars parked in front of their home.
I thought, “must be doing a lot of entertaining…so nice to have family close by.”
But I was wrong. And I’m sick to my stomach about it
Mr. Neighbor has colon cancer. They aren’t enjoying their golden years together - she is holding his hand as he gets weaker and weaker. They’ve only known for eight months. There is nothing the doctors can do.
I understand he is down to just weeks.
Those cars? Hospice care around the clock.
The SIX cars this weekend? It pains me to even imagine. I am hopeful family is gathering to say everything they ever wanted to say.
I wish I knew them better. I wish it made sense for me to say, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry you are losing the one you love.
I’m sorry that the plans you made together won’t fall into place.
I’m sorry that you will have to sell the beautiful home you built together.
Thank you for the reminder to enjoy every day since we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.
Thank you for the additional reminder to get a colonoscopy. From what I have read, unless your doctor suggests it earlier, you should start at age 50 - getting one at least every five years.
How you can help Haiti
Update: I am continuing to make updates to this post as I am made aware of additional ways to make a difference in Haiti. If you know of a way - please share it in comments and I will add it to the post.
I sit on my couch, physically untouched by the disaster in Haiti.
But mentally, I’ve been grabbed, I’ve been shaken. The images are carved into portions of my brain.
I catch myself open-mouthed, tears streaming down my cheeks as I watch the video, as I read the horrendous details. The flattened schools, the bodies in the streets, the children clinging to each other and what is left of their families. There are thousands of lives lost (estimated as of today to be between 45-50,000). There are hundreds of thousands with no place to go, no food or water…many being treated in make-shift hospitals and often without anesthesia.
But, I am comforted by the number of people who are reaching into their purses, their savings, their coffee money, the change from their couch.
I have watched the tweeting, the blogs and sites popping up to offer assistance. I wanted to give you some options - from the big organizations and the notable musicians to the mommy bloggers and social media.
The American Red Cross -Earlier today, the Red Cross confirmed that over $35 million has been raised in the 48 hours since the quake - $5+ million of that from texting ‘Haiti’ to 90999. ($10 will be charged to your phone each time you text to the Red Cross) From their site: Your gift to the American Red Cross will support emergency relief and recovery efforts to help those people affected by the earthquake in Haiti. Assistance provided by the American Red Cross may include sending relief supplies, mobilizing relief workers and providing financial resources and recovery.
Unicef From their site: Children are always the most vulnerable population in any natural disaster, and UNICEF is there for them. Please give NOW—100% of every dollar you give to the U.S. Fund for UNICEF will be sent directly to UNICEF to support emergency relief efforts.
Care - A humanitarian organization fighting global poverty. From their site: Many of CARE’s staff in Haiti include emergency personnel who were part of the response to the devastating Hurricane Hanna in 2008. CARE began working in Haiti in 1954 to provide relief assistance after Hurricane Hazel. Today CARE’s work in Haiti includes projects in HIV/AIDS, reproductive health, maternal and child health, education, food security, and water and sanitation. They have deployed additional personnel to deliver food, hygiene kits and water.
Operation USA - From their site: Operation USA is an international relief agency that helps communities at home and abroad overcome the effects of disasters, disease and endemic poverty by providing privately-funded relief, reconstruction and development aid.
Wyclef Jean is raising money through his Yele Foundation. You can text YELE to 501501 to donate $5. (Latest numbers show more than $1million raised so far)
The Run Amuck (on behalf of Compassion International) Amber is dedicating her heart to this most-needed cause!
Hope for Haiti - Put together by members of the blogging community, you can purchase raffle tickets for fantastic services and items donated by some of the most amazing women online. Each dollar donated = 1 raffle ticket. All money raised will be donated to The American Red Cross and Compassion International.
Common Sense with Money is donating .25 cents for every comment (up to $500) on this post.…so….donate with your words!
If you are looking for family in Haiti, visit this site.
The New York Times has set up a post dedicated to the missing.
Hear from an American family living in Haiti via their blog.
For what appears to be a complete list of official organizations to make donations, head to MSNBC.
And on January 22nd, George Clooney will host a telethon to be broadcast on all the MTV networks. Rhianna, Leonardo DiCaprio, Jay-Z, Mariah Carey, Ashton Kutcher and John Legend are among those slated to appear.
I am heartened to read that Major League Baseball donated $1 million to UNICEF, that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie donated $1 million to Doctors without Borders, Alysssa Milano donated $50K…and on and on. And now, many businesses are getting in the charity swing. T-Mobile is offering free service for calls to and from Haiti - including roaming in the earthquake-torn country.
Small comfort during this tragedy.
If you are worried about being taken by a scam (stick with the most well known organizations) or want to confirm the authenticity of a charity, visit the Better Business Bureau’s charitable divsion.
Somewhere out there
I used to be able to count my friends. You know - friends from high school, friends from college, friends from work….
But now, that circle has expanded and I can longer register with ease the people who have an influence on my daily life. With amazing blogs, facebook and twitter wrapping their tentacles tightly around me, I am bound to so many as though I have been doused in maple syrup and grabbed by a toddler.
And by bound, I mean I care. And by I care, I mean what happens in your life effects me. I laugh with you, I shake my fist in solidarity, and I cry, I weep with you.
Tonight, I am weeping. Double time.
Just days ago, my sweet friend Arianne lost her baby at 18 weeks. And it quite simply breaks my heart. I’ve known Ari for less than a year, and yet her presence is profound and peaceful. You could know her for an hour and find yourself sharing like you have memories dating back to 5th grade.
And then there is the friend I have known for nearly 20 years. Tonight she emailed to say she had lost her baby at 15 weeks. As with Ari, my breath caught in my throat and my heart splintered.
Both of these women amaze me with their strength and eloquence despite their pain.
My husband calls me sensitive. He says it in that half-irritated, half-awed sort of tone that only men can duplicate. He feels compelled to stay detached but is, at once, touched by the love I have for the friends in my life. Apparently my sensitivity is an asset.
About these friends - both new and old - I am sensitive. And I will continue to be. Because they have touched my life in some way, I can’t help but share the ups and downs of their days. It is how I am wired - for better of for worse.
I am in the middle of the country. These two women I adore are on either coast. I am here and they are somewhere out there. I can’t knock on their door, sit on their couch and wrap my arms around them, but I can tell them I love them.
And I do.
Thoughts on Twitter and Military_Mom
Edit, December 18th: Dear Anonymous Commenters: While I respect your ‘right’ to have your own opinions, and will happily approve comments that disagree with my thoughts/opinions on this subject, I do reserve the right to delete outright venom….especially those who choose to mask themselves in the cloak of anonymity. I will approve comments from people who are willing to make statements and stand by them. You can be as mad as you like….fortunately, I have only deleted a total of 3 comments - two of them from the same IP address, yet using different aliases (and calling me pathetic for deleting the hatred) I’m thinking ‘pathetic’ is a term that can be reserved for people crucifying a grieving mother. This space, this site, will continue to be one where Shellie Ross is both respected and can feel comfortable.
Original Post:
As a general rule, I stay well outside the bounds of controversy. I avoid tweeting about politics, religion and most online battles I see being waged.
This is not because I am void of opinions, but merely that I have chosen to maintain a decidedly neutral online presence - at least that has been my goal.
Today feels different.
Today, my soul was offended. Today, our community reeked, not only of sadness, but anger.
Today a Mother - dealing with the most unimaginable tragedy found herself on the receiving end of some pure nastiness.
Shellie Ross, @Military_Mom, lost her son yesterday. He drowned in their pool. She will never again hold his hand, stroke his hair, or stay up late protecting him from the monsters under the bed. She won’t get to send him off to Kindergarten or cling to the side of the car as he learns to drive.
And somehow, a few determined that it was ‘inappropriate’ for her to share her grief on Twitter. They have spent the day picking her apart - questioning the timeline, even the veracity of her loss - with some going so far as to blame her. My teeth are clenched so tightly as I type this I can picture my teeth splintering.
How DARE YOU add to her pain? How DARE YOU question HOW she grieves?
A mother who has lost a child is entitled to ask for medication, run around naked or quite simply, reach out to her network of support - even if they are online.
For so many of us, Twitter and other forms of social media are a veritable life line. We do tweet when we are happy, when we are furious and YES - when we are crushed by grief or frightened out of our minds. Why? Because we know there is someone listening. And because usually that someone cares. We have nurtured our online friends to that point that it no longer matters if we have hugged in person - because we are getting to know each other intimately, regardless of distance.
I tweeted when I was told my then 4 year old daughter might have Kawasaki’s Disease. I tweeted because I was scared and had been given very little information. I tweeted because I knew I could count on love and support. And I got it. Dozens of people took time from their days to research the disease for me and put my mind at ease. And hundreds of others prayed, offered assistance or cried along with me.
Twitter is a virtual phone tree. Especially when support is needed. Consider @anissamayhew’s stroke and subsequent love, prayers and much needed support. Consider the blanket of kindness that surrounded @mamaspohr when she lost her sweet Maddie - and the thousands of dollars raised in Maddie’s name for the March of Dimes. Consider the strangers who sacrificed their coffee money to provide breast milk for Baby Jaeli, therefore saving her life. But somehow, today was different.
These are all examples of pure goodness. Online goodness. And many of the people who reached out in these circumstances were strangers. At least they were at the beginning. So many of the same lovely supporters were out in droves today, but there was the added element of defensiveness. I am disturbed by this.
I understand the need to be skeptical. Really, I do. But, please, please do it quietly. Clearly you heard about Shellie’s loss via someone you were following. Ask them about it. Some of my followers reached out to me for information. Follow along. Or better yet, ignore it. And, most importantly, refrain from adding to someone’s already insurmountable pain and suffering.
I was disgusted to see that the people who did the bulk of the ’supposing’ and ‘investigating’ today were entirely unfamiliar with this community. (One brand new account - who was ‘investigating’ the situation mysteriously disappeared early in the day) They are either new to twitter or have yet to access and understand its potential.
Because I have met Shellie, because I have hugged her in real life, because I personally know people who talked to her after the fact or who sat by her side last night, I reached out and tweeted to the doubters. Though we aren’t best friends and I didn’t speak to her - I knew. So, I told them the truth.
In a tragic accident, Shellie did lose her son.
Surprise, they never responded to me. They simply continued to perpetuate the notion that Shellie’s twitter history was somehow suspect. And even once the ‘official’ story hit a news site - it wasn’t good enough since Bryson’s name wasn’t listed.
This tells me, though the claim was to save people from falling victim to a scam, the true motivation behind the negative and doubting tweets was simply to be a disturber.
And that, is Pure B.S.
My hope, my true prayer, is that there is a cocoon of love and support that manages to surround Shellie and insulate her from people who would rather throw stones than offer her a shoulder to cry on.
Shellie - you are in my thoughts and prayers. I am so truly sorry for your loss.
Friend - you grieve however you want. We will grieve with you.
Aiming High and Praying for Anissa
Update 11/20 - Anissa’s husband will be using www.Hope4Peyton.org to update Anissa’s condition. Right now, prayers are their biggest need.
UPDATE 4:37 PM Wednesday FROM ANISSA’S HUSBAND:
Not much change. Second bleed was not good. I brought the kids up. She responded slightly, then a lot of movement 20 minutes after they left. She’s fighting and has reached for me. Hard to say the reason, but she stops when contact is made. Feeding tube is in.
Nearly 9 months ago, I met Anissa Mayhew at Blissdom.
She made me laugh. Out loud. And I was feeling a bit shy because I didn’t know a lot of people. She stroked my hair while threatening to cut it off and make a wig of it for herself.
So, clearly, I became a fan.
If you have met Anissa, you love her. Because, quite simply, she has that effect on people. She is snarky and witty, compassionate and strong, intelligent and extremely passionate. She is a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend.
Tonight, I came home from gymnastics to see my twitter stream flooded with #prayforanissa. I only know one Anissa. And I adore her….so, as is typical when your brain expresses panic mode to your body, I lost function in my hands.
When I regained control, I saw the very last thing I expected: Anissa suffered a stroke today and is in ICU.
Anissa is one year younger than me. She has three amazing, beautiful, resilient children. Just last week, her youngest, Peyton, hit an amazing milestone: one year cancer free.
I cried for the first hour after I found out. I yelled at my kids as I struggled to find information. I did the only thing I could - add my voice to the amazing online chatter in support of Anissa and bury my face deep into the necks of my children and pray. Pray. And pray some more.
I haven’t known Anissa for very long, but I have adored her from that first meeting.
Anissa’s close friends at Aiming Low have written a beautiful post about her and how you can help.
Anissa - I know you are strong enough to battle through this. I know it won’t be easy, but I know you can do it. You children need you. Your husband needs you. Your friends need you.
We won’t give up believing you will soon be giving us all a ration of crap for being so sappy on your behalf.
For regular updates, keep an eye on Aiming Low.
And if you have a little extra to help a family in need, here’s where to go.
Yes, I did hijack that lovely picture of Anissa from her Facebook page. Just in case you don’t already know her, I wanted you to SEE who you were praying for.
Being a Mommy is Hard
Every three to four minutes her little body is brutalized by another earthquake of coughs. Her mouth opens, preparing for the epicenter to begin its shift - her lungs, her belly, her throat - all on fire.
Two nights now, no sleep. The coughs wake my sweet girl with every brutal rattle.
I’ve tried everything. Steam. Humidifiers. Propping her bed up. Vicks on her chest. Vicks on her feet. Tea with honey. Triaminic. Popsicles. Water. Juice. (The meds not at the same time).
I feel so helpless. Her head is in my lap. She starts to drift…she is so tired she can’t even suck her thumb. She whimpers even as she falls into clearly uncomfortable, and ridiculously temporary slumber. Even her subconscious knows the sleep minutes are numbered.
I’m her Mommy and yet, I can’t make it stop. It seems so simple really.
A cough. A stupid, body wracking, throat wrenching, belly tightening, chest heaving cough.
And made worse by the notion that I should have taken her to the doctor today - but I hoped we could kick it with rest, tea and snuggling.
She is now approaching 24 hours with no sleep (we suffered through a failed nap attempt today). She is inconsolable, and I am supposed to be the one with the answers, with the comfort.
Word to the wise - coughs do not respond to the Mommy-school-of-simple-solutions. At least not for us.
Being a Mommy is hard.
