this life

This new life is all about not enough time in the day.  And never being able to be in all the places my kids need me to be in.  And not making dinner but buying fast food like every night.  And not bathing Hayden for 3 days in a row because I just can't fight her aversion to water.  And throwing away the daily paper still in the bag the newspaper dude delivered it in because I don't have time to watch any trashy tv, let alone read the f'ing newspaper.  And leaving my girls to get to school on their own, which I know they are fine with but still it bothers me.  And putting off taking Hayden to the doctor even though the crap pouring out of her nose just gets greener and greener each day, and, oh awesome, this morning it has moved up to her eyes.  And falling into bed by 8:13 because I can't stay up another second.

breathe

I have to keep telling myself that.  When things get crazy, it becomes a silent chant.  It gets me through the various panics that seem to temporarily immobilize the girls.  It moves me through the moments when it suddenly strikes me that this really is life now.  Funny thing is, it works. 

ready or not

Tomorrow marks my unofficial return to the full-time work world--A world from which I have been absent since May of 2006. Tomorrow will also mark the beginning of new roles for the girls...And while my eldest has definitely felt this burden since the Hay's birth and Mitchell's diagnosis, this will be the first time they are being asked to do so much.

not a babysitter

Shortly after Taylor was born, I was finally getting out of the house to see a movie with a friend of mine. Mitchell was happy to push me out the door so he could finally have Taylor all to himself. He was on the phone with his mother, and I heard him say, "No, I'm not babysitting....How can I babysit my own daughter?!". He was pretty indignant about the whole suggestion. I recall thinking he was funny to be so upset, but he took the job of dad seriously. He did everything he could to let the girls know that he loved and supported them.

On this first Father's Day without Mitchell, I honor him by remembering all they ways he was a remarkable father.

moving forward

The girls and I recently returned from our first family vacation without Mitchell. The trip was a much anticipated one to Disneyland. Hayden's very first experience with the Happiest Place on Earth. For the most part it was a great trip. Hayden loved it, although the giant characters she really could have done without.

The last time we visited Disneyland was with Mitchell. There were many bittersweet moments both for myself and Taylor during our week long excursion. It made me sad to remember so vividly rides we'd enjoyed or places we liked to eat or even conversations we'd had on that last trip when the girls were small and easily impressed.

It was weirdly painful and satisfying to have made the trip and for it to have been a successful one.

getting back

I started dreaming again. Well...probably I never stopped, but I'm remembering them in the morning. I'm taking it as a sign.

good now

Hard to believe the move is now in the past.  Good to be here now.  Sleeping much better.  Feeling more comfortable, almost renewed.  Excited again.

strange days

Valentine's Day brought some unexpected happenings for the very youngest of the Harris Girls. While playing around on the trampoline waiting for Valentine's dinner, there was what seemed to be a minor accident. Dylan brought in the Hay, wailing and snot flying. I sat her down and checked her out as mom's are wont to do. She seemed fine. We had dinner, and while she ate almost nothing (typical), she did her usual jamming of dinner into whatever she happens to be drinking (very typical).

Bedtime came early, but sleep did not last. That night was spent with Hayden crying out and/or sobbing in her sleep. By about 3 am, I am convinced there is something wrong. I barely get the big kids off to school and call the doctor as soon as they open. The appointment set, I spend the morning with a very lethargic 2 year old (atypical).

At the appointment, x rays revealed that Hayden's tibia and fibula had been cleanly broken distally. I was shocked to leave the appointment with nothing more than a referral for an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon for this afternoon. No wraps. No splints. Nothing. Just instructions, "Don't let the leg hang; it will cause more pain and injure the area further.". Perfect!

pieces

The material pieces of our lives are not us. They may be reminiscent of us or help tell others how we perceive ourselves, but they are not us. The letting go of these possessions does not mean we are discarding loved ones. Our loved ones live in our hearts and our minds and our actions. They are there behind our eyes waiting for us to reminisce with them and laugh with them and even cry a little too. But things like clothing and cars and yes, even houses, those are just things. Our loved ones travel with us, no matter where the rest of our lives take us.

floundering

Just over two months since Mitchell's passing. It's strange how time seems to drag and yet fly by all at the same time. I still can't let go of those last moments. They continue to haunt me, blind-siding me in quiet moments.

The world outside continues on. It seems they barely recall that just a short time ago he was here. Outsiders offer "help". Everyone seems to have advice, opinions about how best to proceed. People who think they know how we feel like to give me helpful hints. I try to avoid these good Samaritans, but they've got radar and hone in on my signal.

restart

That's where I am right now.  I'm on a restart of my life.  Of course, I'm still a mom to three great girls, that's not going to change...But all the rest of it, that's what I'm talking about.  I'm trying to figure out what's next for the four of us.  This doesn't feel like home anymore. 

baby steps

Difficult week.   Hard to get back to "normal".  More difficult to swallow what is now normal.  Things around me buzz like white noise.  Thankful for the weekend and our beautiful girls.

the part that comes after

Numb and yet strangely raw are the predominant feelings.  Trying to make sense of this part.  Still so hard to believe that he is no longer with us.  This all seems impossible.

Mitchell passed away last night.  He lost his battle with cancer, but he was able to do it on his terms.  He fought until the last moment he was with us.  We will love him always.

trial

Mitchell made it through his first clinical trial treatment, but it wasn't easy.  He spent almost 11 hours at the Cancer Center on Tuesday.  After a day full of constant monitoring of his heart, blood sticks, urine monitoring and general data collection, Mitchell was wiped out.  For the first time in his treatment, he had to leave the Center in a wheelchair.

Since the treatment he seems to be more and more tired.  He has been good about resting.  The swelling in his legs and feet continue.  He has been sleeping in bits and pieces throughout the day and early evening.  During the night, sleeps seems to evade him.

I worry constantly about his pain; even though he says he is fine.  

We are spending a lot of careful time together.  It's important to say what needs to be said.  And listen.  And just be together.

clinical-day one

Mitchell is on his way to his first infusion with the new clinical as I type this.  He will be there ALL day because of the constant heart monitoring, blood samples and pee collecting the study requires. 

After all this, I find myself still crossing my fingers.

confirmation

Dr. Brown confirmed that Mitchell's liver is failing.  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see it, but your mind does interesting things to protect us from really terrible truths.  We would have hospice here, but he has been granted a waiver and been allowed to continue ahead with the Aztec Clinical Trial.  And as long as he's still actively pursuing treatment, hospice cannot come.  I'm glad that Mitchell is a fighter.  The girls and I need him to continue to fight right now.  But I know there will be a time when he won't be able to push back any longer.  I'm just not ready for it today.

My dad is coming to stay with us.  I'm so thankful that he is able and willing to do this. If I'm honest though...I don't want anyone else here.  That's not realistic right now.  We need the help.  

I am thankful to have Mitchell, who is the strongest, most selfless person I have ever known.  Through all of this, he continues to put myself and the girls first.  He doesn't wallow in the questions that I know I would be consumed with at a time like this.  He faces each day with bravery and resolve and loves us and supports us through it all. 

distance

I'm feeling much less raw after putting a little distance between myself and that terrible appointment with Dr. Brown last week.  The reality of events to come has not changed, but I am feeling better able to manage my emotions.  Admittedly, I have moments when it  overwhelms me.  Driving alone is probably the worst time for this.  Memories of that appointment are like a magnet for my mind; it keeps reverting back to those words.  But it also reminds me that none of us are promised any length of time on this planet, and we need to embrace each moment as it happens. 

We are good right now.  And that is good enough right now.

at this moment

Now realizing there's a big difference between thinking you are prepared to handle something and actually confronting the reality of what that something means. 

At this moment, I am praying for strength for all of us.  And time.  Time for him and me and for Taylor, Dylan and Hayden. 

new directions

I recently accepted an ELL teaching position at the local elementary.  This may seem like a 180 to some as the last time I was in charge of a classroom, I was fried to say the least.  But it's been awhile since I taught last, four years to be exact, and this particular situation is quite different from where I was. 

Truth is, I'm excited to participate in the adult world again.  It will be nice to meet adults who don't know my kids and aren't trying to plan a play date or sleepover or trip to the movies. 

And like I said, this situation is different.  I'll  be working mornings with a student load of under 20.  There's a good mix of instruction and paper work (you're thinking, "Why does she like paperwork?"  I don't know.  I find it soothing.)  There's tremendous opportunity for me to learn and grow, which is exciting.  And necessary to prevent my brain from becoming middle-aged mush.

Will I miss being at home with the Hay?  Of course.  Will it take a bit to adjust to the demands of the new schedule?    Definitely.  But I also realize that this is a necessary step in a new direction that enables me to have more control over my family's destiny.  I have decided to rise to the occasion.