I thought I would be introducing my children in the next post-which has actually been way too long since I blogged-however I must talk about moving my mother. My mother is an amazing 73 year old woman. She does have many demons (don't we all) that she has been dealt in life and must deal with. She is a maniac depressant and I believe with some (if that is possible) bi-polar issues. I am so proud of her because she has decided she doesn't want to be a hermit any longer and is lonely. She also has very bad rheumatoid arthritis. She should not be walking up and down the two long flight of stairs that she has. She is moving into a beautiful one bedroom senior living apartment building. That being said she is moving from a two bedroom with a full basement town home that she has lived in for almost twenty years. She is very overwhelmed by the job in front of her to decide what to let go.
I spent an entire afternoon a few weeks ago throwing away many, many magazines. I wouldn't have been so bothered except for the fact these magazines ranged back from the 1990's, 1980's and even quite a few from the 1970's. Now my mother is a very intelligent woman and yet I am left wondering WHY she would need to keep so many magazines from so long ago. Her excuse is there MIGHT be an article that she really needed from that magazine, but of course 30 years later she has no idea what would have been so important in that particular magazine.Another afternoon was spent shredding bank statements, duplicate checks, mail, etc from 1993 to the present. Of course not throwing away that would she might need for an audit or anything. More so than this issue is her total infatuation with rags, yes rags. This wonderful person probably has at least 150 rags or wash clothes in her house and for some reason they are very important to her. I have spent many hours being yelled at for throwing away several of these very special rags. While I have been able to just let her have the rags (until she moves and they don't all need to go with her) my sister-in-law has decided this is unacceptable. She has managed to turn this into the war of the rags. Why can't the woman have her rags (that somehow make her very happy) until she moves? I really don't understand.
Only to make matters worse my mother feels like she must check EVERY trash bag we try to get out of the house. We are really not trying to throw away anything that she really needs, but I don't see any reason to keep the large floppy disks that no modern day computer takes. If she had helped go through some of this stuff prior to us (my brother and I plus our kids)it wouldn't be so overwhelming that we feel we must just pitch a lot of stuff. She unfortunately has turned what might be a fun afternoon of reminiscing while going through items into World War III. I feel like I might have a true mental break down at any minute. Lord help me, PLEASE!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Thursday, October 9, 2008
16 years ago
It is hard to believe that 16 years ago today I was the proud parent of a son. He weighed in at 2 pounds 10 ounces. He was just beautiful. He was very sick though. His lungs just weren't developed enough. I remember being so angry that just months after Spencer died that the liquid surfactant came out. I realize now that what was meant to be did happen, but I can't help feel pissed off about it. Especially when I see on TV the show "17 kids and counting". There is a part of me that is very jealous of that.
When I went to the doctor that day because I was sure I had lost my mucus plug (having just read about it in the book what to expect...)but really just thinking I was going crazy. I remember my doctor not being there and having to see a different doctor. He took one look between my legs and said he a not so calm voice "don't move you have a bulging sac, you are dilated to a 4 and we are calling an ambulance and transferring you to St. Luke's." I asked what does a bulging sac mean? I had not heard of that, but did know what the dialation meant. He replied, "it means you are going to give birth today."
I really thought he was over reacting. I felt super, the weather outside was beautiful for an October afternoon. There was no way I was going in an ambulance and mainly because my mom would never find St. Luke's off the Plaza. They called her and she came to get me. The doctor's office wouldn't even let me walk down to her car, I had to go in a wheelchair. I do remember that it took her FOREVER to get to the doctor's office from her work at Johnson County Community College. Matter of fact Mike (whose brother Bill brought him) and Sholeh beat us there and had even started pre-registering me.
Many things happened it was a blur. I still remember Spencer kicking the stress monitor so hard they couldn't even leave it on because it annoyed him so much. I always knew I was carrying a boy, but he sure never let anyone see during any of the ultrasounds, even at the hospital. I still feel fairly guilty for allowing the nurse to give me a shot to sleep around 3:30 or so the morning of Oct. 8, 1992. It was right after I went to sleep that I woke up to a wet feeling. I remember paging the nurse and she looked and said "I see little feet". During the c-section I remember being very scared. I will never forget hearing everyone say "it's a boy". There were so many people in the room, but I also will never forget waiting to hear Spencer cry and being so happy when he did. It was a raspy little cry, but a cry.
I made Mike go be with him as he was taken to the neonatal ward and they took out the ugly and hairy cyst on my ovary, which is how the doctor described it. Looking back there were so many obstacles put in front of him that it was hard to believe he made it as far as he did. The ovarian cyst that showed up at 26 weeks along. It had not been there before. Then the actual incomptent cervix that we found out I had. When it looked like they were able to get that under control and he wasn't going to be born (although I wasn't looking forward to being in the hospital for the next at least 10 weeks) he broke the amniotic sac. At that point delivery was inevitable because of infection. Then he actually weighed what they thought would be a viable weight. Little did anyone know how under developed his lungs were at that point. Even though he was around 28 weeks gestation period, his lungs were only about 24 weeks along.
I will never forget when Dr. Schaefer told me he had been passed the wand of being the sickest baby in the neonatal ward. I remember how bad his oxygen stats were, but they always went up when I went to see him or Mike. Then Thursday morning when he was just not showing any form of improvement and had two blood transfusions, I knew he had more than enough. I went down to see him for what would be the very last time and just looked at that little body and could tell from his skin that he wasn't going to be okay. I couldn't put him through anymore poking and probing. I mentally talked to him because the words I was saying couldn't be said out loud. I remember tears just running down my face knowing that I needed to go ahead and let him go. I told him that he could go ahead and give up the fight. As much as I wanted that little boy, I couldn't stand to see him in pain.
It wasn't 10 minutes later that the doctor said he was really failing. Telling them to go ahead and take off the ventilator was the hardest thing I have ever done. They were so caring and brought him to me all dressed in the cute little gown someone had made him. I can still remember him taking that very last breath in my arms. I wanted to die right along with him.
I can say that I decided to swim instead of sink, although it certainly would have been much easier to just die. I would not have the family that I have today had Spencer lived. I know that Mike and I would not be together at this point if Spencer had lived. I know that I am a better parent to these children than I would have been to Spencer. I know that I understand what priorities are in life and try to respect that. I do know that I have grown tremendously since 1992 and this experience. I do know that I miss Spencer almost every day of my life, although it has gotten easier with time. A lot of my dreams died October 9, 1992 along with Spencer. I do know I was able to help many children through the foster care system that I would not have been able to help if Spencer had lived. However, on days like today I really don't give a damn. I just want my son!
Happy 16th Birthday Spencer-I love you!
When I went to the doctor that day because I was sure I had lost my mucus plug (having just read about it in the book what to expect...)but really just thinking I was going crazy. I remember my doctor not being there and having to see a different doctor. He took one look between my legs and said he a not so calm voice "don't move you have a bulging sac, you are dilated to a 4 and we are calling an ambulance and transferring you to St. Luke's." I asked what does a bulging sac mean? I had not heard of that, but did know what the dialation meant. He replied, "it means you are going to give birth today."
I really thought he was over reacting. I felt super, the weather outside was beautiful for an October afternoon. There was no way I was going in an ambulance and mainly because my mom would never find St. Luke's off the Plaza. They called her and she came to get me. The doctor's office wouldn't even let me walk down to her car, I had to go in a wheelchair. I do remember that it took her FOREVER to get to the doctor's office from her work at Johnson County Community College. Matter of fact Mike (whose brother Bill brought him) and Sholeh beat us there and had even started pre-registering me.
Many things happened it was a blur. I still remember Spencer kicking the stress monitor so hard they couldn't even leave it on because it annoyed him so much. I always knew I was carrying a boy, but he sure never let anyone see during any of the ultrasounds, even at the hospital. I still feel fairly guilty for allowing the nurse to give me a shot to sleep around 3:30 or so the morning of Oct. 8, 1992. It was right after I went to sleep that I woke up to a wet feeling. I remember paging the nurse and she looked and said "I see little feet". During the c-section I remember being very scared. I will never forget hearing everyone say "it's a boy". There were so many people in the room, but I also will never forget waiting to hear Spencer cry and being so happy when he did. It was a raspy little cry, but a cry.
I made Mike go be with him as he was taken to the neonatal ward and they took out the ugly and hairy cyst on my ovary, which is how the doctor described it. Looking back there were so many obstacles put in front of him that it was hard to believe he made it as far as he did. The ovarian cyst that showed up at 26 weeks along. It had not been there before. Then the actual incomptent cervix that we found out I had. When it looked like they were able to get that under control and he wasn't going to be born (although I wasn't looking forward to being in the hospital for the next at least 10 weeks) he broke the amniotic sac. At that point delivery was inevitable because of infection. Then he actually weighed what they thought would be a viable weight. Little did anyone know how under developed his lungs were at that point. Even though he was around 28 weeks gestation period, his lungs were only about 24 weeks along.
I will never forget when Dr. Schaefer told me he had been passed the wand of being the sickest baby in the neonatal ward. I remember how bad his oxygen stats were, but they always went up when I went to see him or Mike. Then Thursday morning when he was just not showing any form of improvement and had two blood transfusions, I knew he had more than enough. I went down to see him for what would be the very last time and just looked at that little body and could tell from his skin that he wasn't going to be okay. I couldn't put him through anymore poking and probing. I mentally talked to him because the words I was saying couldn't be said out loud. I remember tears just running down my face knowing that I needed to go ahead and let him go. I told him that he could go ahead and give up the fight. As much as I wanted that little boy, I couldn't stand to see him in pain.
It wasn't 10 minutes later that the doctor said he was really failing. Telling them to go ahead and take off the ventilator was the hardest thing I have ever done. They were so caring and brought him to me all dressed in the cute little gown someone had made him. I can still remember him taking that very last breath in my arms. I wanted to die right along with him.
I can say that I decided to swim instead of sink, although it certainly would have been much easier to just die. I would not have the family that I have today had Spencer lived. I know that Mike and I would not be together at this point if Spencer had lived. I know that I am a better parent to these children than I would have been to Spencer. I know that I understand what priorities are in life and try to respect that. I do know that I have grown tremendously since 1992 and this experience. I do know that I miss Spencer almost every day of my life, although it has gotten easier with time. A lot of my dreams died October 9, 1992 along with Spencer. I do know I was able to help many children through the foster care system that I would not have been able to help if Spencer had lived. However, on days like today I really don't give a damn. I just want my son!
Happy 16th Birthday Spencer-I love you!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
HOW MANY DO YOU HAVE?
Being a large family we always get this question. Also, we are a trans-racial family so that causes more people to ask questions, especially if all 8 of us are together. It is not as easy to answer as it sound. I a mom to six children, Brianna, Trina, Nicole, Cortez, Alyssa and Jorie, all of whom were adopted out of the Kansas foster care system. I also am a stepmother to my husband's daughter, Ashley. I also am a mother to my sweet little angel baby, Spencer Lee Davis, who was born at 28 weeks gestation and died the very next day.
So while most can answer this question easily, I can not. Quite honestly it can be very frustrating and I sometimes feel guilty if I don't include everyone. It is so much easier to say "six".
I will begin to introduce my children in the next few posts.
So while most can answer this question easily, I can not. Quite honestly it can be very frustrating and I sometimes feel guilty if I don't include everyone. It is so much easier to say "six".
I will begin to introduce my children in the next few posts.
THE FIRST POST
So, now that I have finally decided to start a blog how do I begin? I have so much that I want to blog about. I guess the first step would be to discuss myself. I am a director of a daycare center and have been there since January 1991. There was a time that I really thought I was burned out and wanted to do something different, but I unfortunately am a creature of habit. I think it is too comfortable to really change careers. I think at some point I really need to take that plunge and it would not be to child care, although I really do enjoy children. I also am very good with dealing with them, I would say it is my forte. I have actually devoted most of my life to working with young children. I started babysitting around 11 years old and still at it at 41. My first job (besides babysitting) was working at a daycare center. I have worked at only 3 other centers since that first job. I was also a nanny for 2 1/2 years in Connecticut to a wonderful family. I was really very lucky as a lot of my nanny friends did not have such great families they worked for. I was able to go into New York City almost every weekend. If I could return to one place it really would be NYC. I am not sure I would live there or raise a family there, but man it is a hopping fun place. I came back to Kansas to finish my degree in Early Childhood.
I love feeling like I am loved and needed, which is why I believe childcare is good for me. I am now finding myself questioning whether I need to move on. I would really miss walking into the center and being surrounded by little faces that are hugging me and really happy to see me. What other job could I go to and get hugs and high fives all day long?
I have always had a knack of finding children who need extra special love. I would always be dragging home stray children, thank God my family was very accepting of this. Most were from single parent households where their parent had to work at least two jobs to make a financial difference in their life. For years I had caseworkers say what a wonderful foster parent I would make and to please sign up to take the classes. Which is how ultimately I ended up being a foster parent and later an adoptive parent.
I assume as this blog actually unfolds there will be many in depth thoughts and posts about the things that happened in between.
I love feeling like I am loved and needed, which is why I believe childcare is good for me. I am now finding myself questioning whether I need to move on. I would really miss walking into the center and being surrounded by little faces that are hugging me and really happy to see me. What other job could I go to and get hugs and high fives all day long?
I have always had a knack of finding children who need extra special love. I would always be dragging home stray children, thank God my family was very accepting of this. Most were from single parent households where their parent had to work at least two jobs to make a financial difference in their life. For years I had caseworkers say what a wonderful foster parent I would make and to please sign up to take the classes. Which is how ultimately I ended up being a foster parent and later an adoptive parent.
I assume as this blog actually unfolds there will be many in depth thoughts and posts about the things that happened in between.
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