Bye Bye Baby

It seems impossible, but there it is. My bear turned one today.

Tomorrow I'll post some pictures of him enjoying his highly-sugared, artificially-colored, refined-flour-based, nutritionally bankrupt birthday cake.

Tonight I'm just nostalgic. And I want to thank everyone who was part of our birth crew-

Rachel and Colleen, who took such good care of our kids that I don't think they realized anything was going on until the next day, when they saw Jonah for the first time.

Lee, for making sure we had everything we needed, and directing traffic.

Sarah and Brynn, the best doulas a woman could want- honestly, how many women do you know who got to laugh (hard!) during late labor?

Rolla, for guiding me through my last pregnancy, and affirming my trust in my own innate wisdom. Sometimes I almost forgot you were there, and in my opinion, there's no higher praise I could offer. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect midwife.

And last, Jeff. Thanks for the last few long, hyper-fast walks around the block, when I'd have a contraction every 45 seconds, and trusting that I wasn't going to end up delivering a baby down at the other end of the block. Thank you for understanding why I needed to give birth at home, and for trusting that I could do it.

Happy Birthday, Jonah. We love you.

I have a good excuse

Honestly, there's a perfectly good reason I haven't been able to find the time to post. I've been busy listening to this. When I'm not listening to it, I'm singing it either out loud or in my head. Even Jeff likes it- and he's always made fun of me for liking B&S.

If you want it though (and you won't be seeing me anytime soon), download it from iTunes- you get two extra songs. Not the best songs on the album, but still- two extra songs. Nobody does bonus songs anymore, and that's kind of sad. Because you could always feel cooler than your friends if you had the special bonus edition and they didn't. Which might make someone wonder why I'm tipping all of you off about downloading from iTunes...

Wishful Thinking/The Cracks are Showing

I should have blogged a new post a long time ago (is it "blogged a new post"? "posted a new post" sounds really redundant- oh, the things I waste neurotransmitters on). Apologies. Jeff came home on the 15th. He's attending the partial hospitalization program at the hospital- his sister calls it "day care"- and it is doing him a ton more good than the month in the hospital did. Sad but true.

Post-trauma, we're rebuilding some around here, and realizing that we still have a long way to go toward health individually and as a couple. And as a family, for that matter. As I said, the partial program has been very helpful for Jeff, but I find myself annoyed and downright disturbed at the fact that the idea of Jeff leaving us, temporarily or permanently, has been covered not once but three times now by various staffers in the program. It's not a new idea for us- we'd discussed the possibility of him moving out to try to reduce his stress level before hospitalization became necessary for him- but at times it seems like they are pushing the idea. At least it seems that way to me, and I know Jeff isn't happy about it either. I realize that they are supposed to be pursuing his good and doing whatever they can to aid his recovery, but it honestly seems like they are doing this from the viewpoint that the only good to consider is Jeff's, an idea that horrifies me.

Obviously, his has been of foremost importance lately. A doctor in a war zone doesn't tend to people with bruises and scrapes when there are some who have gunshot wounds, and rightly so. But it just seems like they are dwelling on this as a possibility, when he has told them flatly he isn't open to it (incidentally, that's exactly what he told me when we tackled this before Christmas). I wish they would give him the skills and education he needs to better deal with the mess o' stress that is our family instead.

Note to the staff of the partial hospitalization program @ HCMC-
These things probably aren't going to change:
1. Jeff has a mental illness.
2. So do I.
3. Two of our kids have behavioral problems; one might possibly have serious ones.
4. All three of our older kids display, to a greater or lesser degree, either mood or anxiety problems (which is why we have Allie in counseling already, and we're keeping an eye on the other two).

So that's my big beef this week: why are his staff members wasting time on wishful thinking ("if only you didn't have a wife and four kids..."), which is totally unproductive, instead of dealing with reality? It just seems so counter to their job.

***

This reconstructing business isn't easy. To some extent, we have to start from scratch. Jeff is learning how to better take care of himself, which is good, but it's upset our relationship dynamic in some ways. It will all be to the better, but it's hard. I've known him (going on) 14 years, and we've been dating or married nearly the whole time. The things he's learning (like being direct about his feelings) are new- to him and to me. And we're both having to navigate it. So to go back to the example of being more direct, it is healthier for him to be open, but difficult. It's better for me to know how he feels than to guess, but it also brings me to the rather harrowing realization that it feels like a loss of control for me- it feels threatening. Part of me really likes passive Jeff. Repressed Jeff. It's a sad realization for me how the unhealthy in ourselves or those dear to us becomes, over time, so familiar that a change toward integration feels not only frightening but also bad.

At the same time, it is cause for hope. If we have gotten this far, stayed together this long, with everything we've had to deal with (separation, an exceedingly difficult baby, preemies, twins, a pregnancy after we'd decided we were done having children, financial problems, untreated mood disorders), then how much better will we be doing once we start to shed a lot of the junk we're still carrying around from our childhoods?

So to go back to the second half of my post title, there are definitely cracks a'plenty. To extend the metaphor a little- if we couldn't see them, they'd still be there; we'd be in danger of something collapsing without warning and burying all of us. Something did collapse, and it's a wonder we weren't buried. But I guess that the advantage in having our faultlines displayed to each other, and to the world, is that we can see where the repairing and rebuilding process needs to begin.

Cliches have their comforts in a time like this. Amen.

Falling to Pieces

It's not me that is falling apart- it's Jeff. For the last three weeks, we have watched him bounce back and forth between very good and unbearably bad. He had a good week that got him released from the hospital, then an overwhelming weekend that put him back there. And for the week since, except for one good day, I have watched him deteriorate, literally fall apart before my eyes. That one good day got him a floor pass- he is still using it, but feels that if he takes one step away from the front of the hospital, he will do something irreversible (my pretty way of saying he'll jump off the parking ramp that is conveniently located across the street).

His doctor is becoming part of the problem. Today he reported to her that he was having the urge to cut yesterday. She did NOT take away his floor pass; instead she asked if he was attending and participating in the group sessions (he is) and asked him to write down a list of "good things about himself". For those of you who have not experienced depression, this might seem like a reasonable request, and one that could potentially benefit him. Those of you who have, know that it is a self-defeating assignment. He cannot think of anything good about himself. The best he would be able to do is write a list of good things other people might say about him, and in his mind this will only reinforce the idea that everyone is decieved by his "good" exterior, and that the truth is that he is bad, awful, worthless. If people knew how "bad" he is, they would revile and reject him.

It seems like his doctor is still planning to release him to day treatment on Wednesday. This absolutely cannot happen. I cannot take care of four kids and keep a suicide watch. I have left a message for his doctor to call me, and once I know her feelings about his progress and plans for his course of treatment, I will be placing a call to HCMC's patient advocate. If necessary, I will go all the way up the chain of command. If necessary, I will request that he be assigned a different doctor. If necessary, I will demand a transfer to a different hospital.

He confessed to me today that while he wants to keep living for my sake and our childrens', it is no longer enough to protect him from the desire to die. I have never been so terrified.

Can we play good news/bad news again?

Good news:

-Jeff is feeling safe enough that he will probably be able to have a floor pass tomorrow. He's been locked in the ward previously (not the case last time)
-for no reason Tuesday night, after a really bad day for both of us, he suddenly felt a lot better (he says it was the long, difficult, but ultimately healing talk we had, but I'm not convinced)
-his doctor is planning a more transition-based release this time, with him coming home only nights at first, then being home all the time, and returning to work last
-I got to see my psychologist today, and talking about all the shit I am dealing with really helped

Bad news:

-we got Jeff's last paycheck last week
-with the transition-release, it will probably be two months or more before we see any work-related income
- DWP (sort of like welfare, but not) will only give us enough each month to cover our house and rent ($700). Food stamps will buy groceries ($700 more), but I have to figure out how to pay for our van, utilities, and household expenses (like toilet paper and deodorant)
-with all that has been going on, I have not been able to apply for Jonah's birth certificate and SS#. Yeah, I know, it should have been done a long time ago, but I lost the paperwork in our move (when he was a week old), and I keep forgetting to get replacements. I can't do our taxes until I have a SS# for him.

I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself right now. And honestly, I don't feel like it's really unjustified.