Tagged

I've been tagged several times, so as to not be a loser, here goes:


10 YEARS AGO:

Lived outside of Boston, Massachusetts
Began a church plant with my husband
Husband graduated with masters from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary
Was a visiting nurse - route included the Gloucester fishermen as seen in "A Perfect Storm" and Salem witches
Drove a green Honda Civic
Saw the Atlantic Ocean every day
Camped on the weekends in the White Mountains

5 YEARS AGO:

Was just coming off birth control
Lived outside Buffalo, NY
Husband was a beloved assistant pastor at a mega church
Led worship
Was doing acute hemodialysis around town in various ICUs
Had a Newfoundland dog named Sailor and a retired seeing eye dog named Jay
Hiked all the time
Drove a Hundai station wagon with the two dogs in the back

1 YEAR AGO:

Became pregnant with my third child
Moved to Chicagoland, IL
Husband is lead pastor
Drove a minivan
Gave my Newfoundland to my sister-in-law


YESTERDAY:

Went to Dunkin Donuts
Went to Ikea with the entire family for 30 minutes total! Ha!
Did not shower
Drew on the doodlepad with my daughter for 30 minutes
Made faces at my 3-year old from the front seat and made him giggle
Breastfed, breastfed, breastfed


5 SONGS I KNOW ALL THE WORDS TO:

Come,Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Worthy, Worthy
Silent Night
All Mary Poppins songs
A Mighty Fortress is our God

5 THINGS I’D DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS:

Pay off all debt
Tithe
Invest for kids' college tutition
Buy a second home in Vermont
Buy a live-in nanny for another set of hands

5 PLACES I’D RUN AWAY TO:

Vermont
Maine
Massachusetts
Oxford
Wales

5 THINGS I’D NEVER WEAR:

Anything orange-colored
Bikini
Killer heels
I'd have to go with Peach on the whole tube top thing
A cowboy hat

5 FAVORITE TOYS:

Computer
Cell phone
iTunes
Dishwasher
CD player


5 FAVORITE BOOKS OR TV SHOWS:

Redeeming Love
The James Herriot series
CSI
Anne of Green Gables/Avonlea
Dancing with the Stars

5 GREATEST JOYS:

Staring at each of my children
Being in the center of God's will
Working hard as a nurse and making a difference
Spending time with L, C, A, J.
Listening to my husband speak each week (his sermons are available on audio on our church's website)

There you go. Though possibly the most boring list ever composed, I have fulfilled my duty!!!!!!!! Good night!

Bath Time

Once a month Matt has an Elder's meeting at church. It starts around 5:30p and goes into the night... which means I'm doing the nighttime wind-down alone. Managing tubby time for three three and under can prove to be a challenge. Tonight things were rather comedic. I was running the bath upstairs and asked Izak, who just strolled up, if Libby was watching Kipper downstairs. He said warily, "Nnnooo." Strange, I thought, so I asked again, and again he said no. He was right. She was downstairs, locked in the bathroom doing a little pre-wash of her own. The toilet paper was all unrolled and wadded up, damp. She was soaked, her hair, her shirt, her blanket. There was very little water in the toilet bowl. As I put Blankie in the washer for a quick disinfecting wash, I decided not to think about what she'd been up to. Izak accidentally dumped a TON of bubble bath in the tub; it was a little like Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory when they're riding the psychedelic boat and getting belched on by the pipes full of bubbles. Actually, that whole scene used to freak me out, but the imagery was very similar. Rinsing off was tough, bubbles are sticky things, and it required several tries to get the shampoo out of the hair and not have those latent bubbles when the hair looks clean but is really still sudsy... I digress.

Then there's the baby, who I bathed first and let play (read: lay and stare at the ceiling) in the hallway. Generally we go right from the tub to nursing, so Mr. Boobie was quite put out that he was put to bed last.

The end of the day is one of the toughest for me. It's like my strength is waning, my resolve shaking... not.. quite.. sure I'll... make it... . Then, like the still after a storm, comes the most beautiful time of the 24 hour funny-farm -cycle - silence! Ah... the babies are all asleep! Usually Matt and I give one another a high-five and collapse on the couch until one or the other can utter an intelligible sentence... "Want popcorn?" "What's on tonight?" "Do you want the computer?"

Matt is usually at the helm during bath time. I'm eternally thankful for his strength and energy during that time of day. And I'm appreciating it even more as I realize that he does what I did tonight by himself twice every week since I'm working Wednesday and Saturday evenings. I dread the one or two nights a month that I have to do baths alone, and yet he never complains. I think he actually likes that goofy time of day.

Matt's a wonderful husband and dad. At the end of a long day it's not uncommon to hear me say to him, "If you're ever going to leave me, or run away and change your identity, or get really sick and end up hospitalized, could you please try to wait until after bath time?"

RSV

Stands for really scary Valentine's! Really stupid Valentine's. Really sad Valentine's. Really (crappy) Valentine's! Well, the bug that I thought was influenza has turned out to be RSV. It started with Izak (3-yr old), and four days later the two younger ones (20 months, 4 months) began coughing. Monday, the 13th, I took both of them to the pediatrician and he did a quick RSV test on Levi - RSV positive. They also both have ear infections. So $200+ dollars later I have a slew of antibiotics, albuterol treatments with nebulizer for the wee one, a decongestant/antihistamine, and a battery of Tylenol and Ibuprofen. We spent Valentine's Day holding Libby, who wouldn't stop sobbing, flushed and feverish, and sucking boogers out of Levi to keep his tiny airway clear. God bless him, though, he still smiles amidst it all. Happy frickin' Valentine's Day!

Buckshot

My Uncle Laverne (yes, he is a he) is a survivor similar to the friend of Mr. Cheney. As a young man he, too, was quail hunting with an experienced (read "ancient") fellow hunter. One wrong move in a distant bush got his tail-end filled with lead. To this day he has pellets under his skin. Though I have to admit, the face... YOWZER!

I cannot begin to imagine what Saturday Night Live is going to do with this incident. Especially if you tweak the spelling to read "Quayle"...

The smallest Furr-muppet

Perspective

One of the things I enjoy about getting out of the house is the new point of view it hands me. Life as a SAHM can be very limiting, IMO. Little issues become overwhelming mountains. Annoyances become obsessions. I think that down deep I struggle a little with obsessive-compulsive issues. I count things, like bottles and markers and sippy cups, and cannot rest unless I know where they all are at day's end. (I always have a list of things I'm looking for: it currently consists of a green sippy cup, a pink pacifier, and the round magnet out of Libby's doodlepad.) I put puzzles back together when the kids are in bed and over-organize the toys. Things may not be spotless, but at least I know where everything is. I always run the dishwasher at night, even if there are only 5 cups and 2 forks in it. All of the light switches in the house need to be off in their down position at the end of the day. It's like there's a certain pattern that things must travel in, and any deviation is a major distraction to me.

I noticed that this really worsened the longer I was away from my job. But upon returning I'm enjoying a reprieve from the compulsiveness of it all. It's like I'm able to get my nervous energy out at the hospital a few evenings a week, thereby breaking the behavior cycles at home. Giving a bath to a woman dying of cancer reminds me that though my children are sometimes struggling, at least they're with me. Holding burned babies in the ICU reminds me that though Libby's accident prone, a little bump or bruise is a minor thing. Taking care of a trauma patient reminds me that my family is blessed with safety and security every time we arrive home after a drive. Taking care of the belligerent post-op patient makes me think of the "difficult" people in my life, and how I'm glad they're not as out of control as the patient... and when they are, I can get away and not be liable for abandonment.

And the little things: toys, cups, dishes... they're just a tiny, tiny piece of the real puzzle.

Martin Luther used to say, "When I think too much of myself I go out and stare at the stars in Heaven. And when I feel very small, then I go to bed."

Perspective.

Snow Day

Well, not exactly. My son is in bed with a fever and a nasty cough, so I called off work. It's never hard to call off in the moment because I know it's the right thing to do, but afterwards I get to thinking ($$$). This is a good thing, though. I've been running just to catch myself lately, as you can tell by my missing entries. I keep wondering if working the little that I do is a good idea. I have a peaceful, quiet, relatively simple life. I feel like is transfers directly to my kids, who are happy little critters. But as a friend said, "All home and no work makes Heidi a dull girl." It's the truth.

Matt and I had a funny moment the other day. I was watching him poke food into the garbage disposal with a wooden spoon. Careful, not too deep, I'm thinking, and I can just see splinters everywhere, but the words that come out of my mouth are, "Hey! Don't use the spoon! Use your fingers!"

My little sister, Kat, with Libby as a (chubby) baby 

Made for the Moment

I believe every person needs to experience the sense that, "Hey, I was made for this moment!" It brings with it a sense of identity, a sense of calling, purpose. Sometimes the real blessing is helping others see that they're living in that moment of greatness, that God is mighty in them where they are.

A person that lives in those kind of moments would be my little sister. Looking back over my blog, I realize I've mentioned precious little about Kat. This, by no means, indicates my lack of affection and admiration for my little sister... I think of her all the time. I just don't have the prominent issues tied to her like that of my handicapped sister. I live around Chicago. She lives around Pittsburgh. I have three little kids. She owns eight rental properties that she and her husband revive and make available to people who may not otherwise find housing. Kat has always found unique facets of ministry to excel at... real estate for the less fortunate, sign language so that she could involve herself with a deaf group of friends in Marion (she's very fluent, has even interpreted for the Governor of Michigan)... In reading this I see that Kat often puts herself between people and opportunity, and then manages somehow to pull them together. She champions the underdog, always believes the best, always strives to make a difference, always tells the truth. People should feel honored to be befriended by my sister.

Her "day job" is in cytology. Simply put, she looks at slides of tissue under microscopes, providing diagnostic insight into the condition - cancer and other various diseases. That's very simplistic. But she majors on the minors, looking to the cells for clues, putting herself between the disease and the ability to detect and fight it, joining the two sides together for many patients. Mom (an RN), Kat, and I (an RN with oncology background) have spent many an evening at the Bennett compound discussing cancer and other diseases and their peculiarities. She offers great knowledge on the pathological side, while Mom and I fill in the picture with what happens after diagnosis. (She also has more gruesome stories than I do, in regards to... tissue... and, well, I'll stop there.) I imagine there are a bunch of IWU grads out there, too, who owe Kat a big "thank you" for being the phenomenal lab assistant that she was in undergraduate. She's a great teacher. She's also involved in a tumor review board, which discusses recent cases at the hospital, their presentation, detection, treatment, and outcome. (Kat's probably cringing right now because I'm sure I've slaughtered the definition of a few things... not to mention she corrects my type-o's.) Kat's been interested in cancer and it's effects since junior high, when her best friend died of Ewing's sarcoma. Kat has always suffered from a delicate heart, finding a place to hide on the scientific side of the disease without having to confront the people she diagnoses, which, I'm sure she would agree, is just fine... until recently...

She went home with her husband to Marion, IN, for the Holidays. Her in-laws are kind, gentle folks. A lovely compliment to the Bennett insanity, in my opinion. Buddy, her FIL, wasn't looking well. He'd lost weight, was complaining of abdominal discomfort. Kat immediately jumped on the diagnostic train and began brain-storming with him, asking him about symptoms. She told me she didn't panic until he mentioned night-sweats, then she knew there was something very wrong. She began stretching her arms between the two worlds again, one hand towards medicine and it's diagnostics, and the other hand holding Buddy. The worst of news came - stage 4 cancer everywhere, the primary site being his eye - a rare choroid melanoma. I remember the first time we spoke about it over the phone. After hello, there was a long silence which was punctuated by crying and quiet sniffing... but at that moment I was overwhelmingly aware that Kat was made for that exact moment with her in-laws, that moment and the thousands to come, and I told her so. Cancer, as a crisis, brings out the real parts of people. Some fight, some deny, some make their lists and start checking it off. Kat would be third kind. She and her husband, Dave, bring their expertise in financial planning, expertise in the disease and health care, and their experience in being wonderful, honoring kids.

Kat, do not forget, though saddness will come, that God made you for this moment. You're bringing your best to the table for Buddy and Lois and the family. You are loving them well and doing an amazing job preparing them for one of the hardest stages of their lives. I am so proud of you.

Winter Furrbabies

Learning (and un-learning)

Things I've learned since turning 30, which was several years ago...

1) The Philippines is NOT in Central or South America. It is considered an Asian country.

2) The commercial slogan "Every kiss begins with Kay's" has a double meaning: The word "Kay's" refers to both the name of the company and the letter "k," which begins the work "kiss." (I immediately tried to call my little sister when I realized that to see if she's known this all along...)

3) The term is "for all intents and purposes," not "all intensive purposes."

4) "Caps Lock" or the term "caps" is a short way of referring to the word "capital", as in capital letters.

5) The term is "Nip it in the bud," not "nip it in the butt."

6) The War of 1812 was fought in America. Napolean did not fight in the war of 1812.

7) Self-effacing humor makes you easier to live with.

The Light of Day

I feel like a new woman most days. I've been working more shifts in the ICUs and I'm having a blast! I'm trying to pick up about 12 hours a week, one four-hour and one eight-hour shift. I've been in open heart, the burn unit, trauma/surgical, and a general ICU at a second hospital.

The thing I've noticed the most about picking up my old career is that I'm highly energized. I feel like I think clearer, act quicker, and have better overall judgment. It gives me a new level of optimism about a lot of things, but first and foremost, about being a mom. Matt and I were discussing that last night, I said I didn't see the correlation, and he pointed out, "Getting out of the house and doing something you love sharpens you as a mom because it breaks up the monotony. It gives you the strength to deal with things that you'd otherwise tolerate." Yeah, Baby! Right now the pace seems right, I work the evening shift, or a partial, so I leave at 1 p.m. since the drive is at least an hour to the hospitals I work at. Matt gets home at 5, but the day I work a full shift is Saturday, so he puts in a half-day at the office and comes home in time to kiss me good-bye. I get home at either 9p or 1a, depending on the shift. It's awesome.

I realize that nothing really profound is coming out of my mouth. I get so excited because after almost a year of being close to home-bound, I get to see the light of day... by myself! And do something that I'm good at. I see the differences in going back to ICU nursing this time vs. after Izak was born as the following:

1) I don't have to work.
2) I know what needs to happen, even if I don't know where to find everything.
3) I'm less bashful about asking questions.
4) I feel more confident, therefore I'm less needy of affirmation and support from co-workers.
5) I know that I'm successfully managing my home when I'm not at work, which is the other 148 hours a week.

We're celebrating our one-year anniversary here in IL. It's been quite a year. Hard, happy, sad, nauseous, faith-filled, peaceful, stressful, new, old being like new... I'm so thankful for the prayers and patience of our new church family at NWCC. The other week a woman said one of the nicest thing to me: "Since your pregnancy finished, it's like watching a whole new person bloom."

God is good to me.

Behind

I have this overwhelming sense that I'm behind... nothing specifically, just behind in general. Can't quite keep up, managing a few steps ahead of the rolling rock (for an Indiana Jones analogy), but somewhere along the line my margin disappeared. Any mother knows the importance of keeping two, if not four, steps ahead of the pack. But then there's the general management of the dailyness of a household. I'm sure you've seen the saying, "God put me on earth to accomplish a certain number of things during my life. At the rate I'm going, I will never die."

Perhaps it's the grey skies. Perhaps it's because Saturday is tax day. Maybe it's my broken-up nights and endless days. Maybe it's because I'm late on my blog. Maybe it's because I've been sorting Liberty's clothes and have seen that time is really an illusion, and that life is charging forward without even looking back to see if we're following along.

Good things come...

Welcome, 2006!

I have a few minutes to blog since I'm in bed with the flu. It's really horrible, I've not felt this sick since the flu bug I had on top of my morning sickness when I was carrying Libby in 2003. I was praying out loud, Jesus, please help me, Jesus, protect my baby. For those of you who know how brutal my hyperemesis (constant nausea, persistent vomiting all 9 months) was with my pregnancies, you'll appreciate this:

I was crawling into bed after tossing my stuff. Matt groggily mumbled something about the flu. I said, "What'd you say?" because what I thought I heard made no sense. He repeated himself louder, and I had heard him correctly. "Tell me you have the flu!" "Yes, it's the flu." His response? "Oh, good!" (In hindsight this really has us laughing.) Yes, pregnancies were terrible things, and over the last four years I've spent 27 months vomiting. It's so good to just have the flu!

Good things come:

My baby boy, Levi, is a sweet one with good sleeping patterns emerging. My third child has come to me.

Unless God over-rules, I will not have to carry any more children. Excitement for the future has come to me.

Work happened! I've had the opportunity to work at Loyola twice in the last few weeks, both were four-hour shifts in the Burn ICU. It was awesome. I really enjoyed a rotation I took through burn while living in Buffalo, and felt privileged to return... and I still feel like I have the stuff for good nursing, despite the shifts being so short. Familiarity has come to me.

I had a wonderfully special surprise baby shower a few weeks ago, thrown for me by the other pastors' wives, SB and Anj. They took me for a pedicure and manicure, and as we stopped by the house to "pick up a gift certificate for the restaurant", SB asked me to come in and look at something. Then there was a big "SURPRISE" and people jumping out from behind the island in the kitchen. It was elegant, peaceful, thoughtful, private, and thoroughly nourishing. I left there SO energized, something I haven't experienced in months and months. SB was also working on making me a blessing blanket by having friends either knit and/or pray over knit quilt squares for Levi. She was also thoughtful enough to include my mom and my Buffalo friends, Carrie and Audrey. I sat and wept because God has been so gracious to me. (Pic of Anj, me and Sarabeth) Good friends have come to me.

In the throes (throws - ha!) of flu in the trench, my husband has responded with strength and presence of mind that has stunned me. Libby got sick early Sunday morning, and my mom was here visiting. She sat on the loveseat as Libby slept on her lap for three restless hours. I was so, so glad to have my mom here, but I must admit, Matt's wow-ing my socks off. Libby continues gacking today after a day and a half reprieve. Not one to handle emesis lightly, Matt donned gloves and cleaned up carseat sickness without complaining once, while I slept in the bed, unaware. He's met every need, quieted each sob, and held destruction at bay from the trench and it's inhabitants all day. Being so weak and incapacitated as had a "post-traumatic" type of effect on me, calling forth genuine fear of everyone being so sick, and no adults to comfort and clean up. Physical weakness is a nemesis of mine, but God has strengthened me through Matt. My servant husband has come to my rescue.

My in-laws and mother and big sister came for extended visits in the trench, and loved on their grandkids. They brought their prayer, encouragement, and two big tepees for the toddlers. Family has come to me.

I pray for my sons' and husband's health and wholeness, but sense God's sweet nearness even now. Emmanuel has come to me again and again through many different venues, different people. And tonight I'm so grateful.

Christmas 2005

This time last year I was bracing myself for a monumental shift as we were about to leave Buffalo for Chicago. I never would have dreamed I'd be having such a beautiful Christmas one year later.

A family of five with a very pleasant little baby boy.

A big house with individual bedrooms.

No tree (crushing hazzard), no lights (electrical hazzard), no bulbs (choking hazzard), but a lovely mantel with 5 stockings (on stocking hagers with the potential for laceration hazzard, but avoided!).

A little girl who likes to wear a tiara and make faces at herself in the mirror.

A boy who could play with his electric toothbrush all day.

A loving, gracious congregation.

A cool, fun, family-like staff.

An amazing husband.

And the chance to remember my Savior came to earth for me.

Merry, merry Christmas.

I Wanna Work! Part II

Re-read last week's post using a slightly higher-pitched voice, add a few tears of frustration, and you've got a pretty accurate picture of my day.

A Little Hole

I saw something on the wall of Izak's bedroom, near the head of his bed. A dark spot. Not a spider. Not dirt. I started to scratch it off when I realized it was really stuck on there. So I picked a little more, applied a little more pressure, and then, oops! Took off the first layer of drywall. So now there's a little hole that will someday be painted over... the dark spot? A dried booger.

I Wanna Work!

Well, today was my greatly anticipated first-day-back to work. A new hospital (Loyola University Medical Center), a new state, a new situation (staffing agency - kinda like substitute teaching for nurses), a new computer charting system. I rose and shone (?) at 4:30 a.m., and just before I left the house ... 4:59... the phone rang. "Sorry, Heidi, but Loyola cancelled you today." Aahhh! What a major disappointment! Matt had slept on the couch to give me a sound night's rest since we're all fighting colds. He heard the phone ring and knew it was either a cancellation, or my Grandma (97) made her worldly departure. Choice number one.

I went back to bed and stewed. Man, was I mad! I needed this day out for more than simply money. My nurse's heart is aching for action. My sedentary brain is longing for complex conversation that doesn't involve noodles, pee-pee on the potty, or one-sided safety talks. I want to know if I know what I used to know: how to hang drips, how to start IV's, how to assist a physician during procedure, how to detect impending doom.

I keep calling the phase after baby number three "the beginning of the beginning - again." Everyone's born, everyone's growing. The only thing slowing me down is the limitations of the children, not my physical fatigue from pregnancy, so I shoulder alot more. I feel strong and sharp. I can see my way to organize, prioritize. I know that my primary job is being the SAHM, which I love, not because I've always dreamed of this, but because I'm fulfilling a calling and see God in it all around me. This is the most valuable of times. I treat my days with the seriouness that I would any other job. I don't take my time with the kids lightly. I don't look for distraction for myself (since I'm pretty introverted) or sit idly by; I focus on being present to the kids, teaching, playing, observing. Each night I think, Did I look each child directly in their eyes and communicate their value in a way they understood? Did I cuddle each one? Did I kiss each one without worrying about the time of day? Did I give my best? I think it takes deliberate choices to engage the kids and not focus on myself.

That being said, I also believe that I need to work a little bit outside the home. Matt is my greatest champion to that end. He doesn't try to harness my energy by re-directing my focus home, he synergizes my efforts in helping me seek the right kind of nursing job for this phase. Granted, there are only a few days a month that I can work that will not totally throw off the rythym of the household - a few Saturdays, maybe some Sunday evenings, but not Mondays. Mondays are about the only sacred space that we have. They're deemed "Family Days," and we protect them fiercely. However, working Saturdays impacts Matt because he generally works at the office for 6 hours, and then later after we (kids and I) go to bed in the evening. But he's willing to reallocate those hours elsewhere in the week to help me get the release that I need in my career. Honey, I love you, and am grateful for the way you're encouraging me.

So, for Pete's sake, don't call me off! The scheduler is looking to see if there's anything available this evening. I'm hopeful. Even if it's just for four hours (though the drive is an hour in itself), I'd like to get my foot in the door. This could be the start of my working pattern for years to come. I look forward to my orientation at Northwestern University Medical Center, too. The more orientations I've completed, the more facilities I can chose to work in. I'll begin to accumulate skills, experiences, information, and relationships that will solidify my nursing path. No more foreseeable long absences from ICU or oncology (I've been out for 9 months with the move and pregnancy). It's time to jump in and stay in the pool!

I feel like it's my first day of school, but the bus didn't pick me up. If not today, then hopefully next Saturday.

The Herd of Cats

Levi at 8 weeks.

Liberty at 18 months.

Izak at 3 years.