Its dark now, I'm travelling down the highway with my partners parents. My parents have met the helicopter at the hospital. So far, he is still stable and alive.
As we are about 1 hour away from the hospital my phone rings, the sound is a shrilling echo in what is otherwise a silent car. I began to feel that flush in my face and the rush of blood in my ears. This could be a call I don't want to answer. This could change the game… forever.
"Hello, Linda speaking" I say with trepidation in my voice.
Its the doctor at the hospital. He has just performed a minor surgery on my partners head. He explains that at this stage, the blood from his bleeding vein (in the top centre part of his head) has built up and caused pressure and swelling to the brain. this in itself can be damaging. In order to release the pressure and drain the blog they have drilled a small hole the size of pencil, inserted a tube and drained the blood. For now the drain will stay in place and continue to keep the pressure at a minimum by draining any excess that may appear. He has tolerated this procedure. is still in a coma and at this point has shown no significant signs of any more severe bleeding.
Now we wait.
Would you believe me if I told you that the same neurosurgeon that saved my brothers life only 9 months early had just performed the surgery my partner. It was to raw and early to reflect on this as a positive or not but i suppose at the very least, a small amount of relief registered somewhere in the maze of my mind that he had a great doctor, and, this is good.
After what felt like a lifetime, I know i keep saying that but seriously, longest day of many to come!
We arrive at the hospital. Please don't forget that I'm almost 7 1/2 months pregnant. sitting uncomfortably in a car for three hours. I'm exhausted but more wide awake than ever, I hurt and want to go to sleep and pretend its a bad dream but i also want to run as fast as i can to his side.
My parents meet us at the door of the hospital and we have to fiddle around for our ID as its late at night and have to go through the security to enter the hospital. My mind is screaming at this man. ' You have got to be kidding me, look at me, the only threat i pose is to the seats i may rest my rump on causing them to break under the weight of my baby body!! Let me go, i need to see him, touch him, feel him breathe and hear his heart pump before i will believe he is still alive'
The all to familiar procedure of ICU begins. Call through to the nurse and say who we are and who we need to see. The nurse buzzes us through the doors. Hand sanitary lotion is not a suggestion in ICU. It has the most distinct smell. One to this day still takes me right back there with sadness.
I can't explain well the feeling of looking at your love, your life lying in a bed, tubes in their mouth, cords dancing around their body, but i will try. If it weren't for these "intruding objects" you would just think they were asleep. But they are not. they are unconscious. He had his head bandaged like a child would do to their teddy bear if they were playing nurse. the eerie darkness of the night was illuminated from the lights of the machines breathing for him. The calmness of sound was interrupted loudly but beeps from the machines every other moment. I touched his face. I cried.
The next four days were critical, he was monitored for pressure in his brain, brain activity, and vital signs of ice in general.
I spent most of each day either by his side or just outside the ICU in the waiting area.
I remember the waiting area more clearly from my brothers accident than the actual ICU unit itself. You can only have 2/3 people in ICU with a patient at once. This is where my parents stayed whilst I kept the spirits of family members going in the wait room.
Its an unusual place to be. Obviously no matter what is wrong with you, if you are in the ICU, its serious. Some people are there knowing its the end. The elderly are eased gently from this world whilst a young boy lays their fighting with everything he has to stay in this world.
Peoples moods are unpredictable. Everyone deals with stress and sickness differently.
My family.
We pep each other up, keep things light and positive, bring solace from a laugh. We are strong and band together like a family should. You may think it odd to laugh or joke about things at such a time as this, but the relief that comes from a laugh is so strong and needed.
We of course were respectful of others and never made anyone feel that we were being insensitive to the situation. You would however be surprised how often a giggle or smile from a person is then sought after by others so they to may join in and release their tension.
At one point over the four days there were about four different groups of people in this waiting area and someone had said something (I forget as it was so insignificant) that caused a ripple effect of laughter. Within minutes we were all in fits of laughter, tears of laughter and sadness combined in that one moment to bring relief to everyone. its a moment that has stuck with me and always will.
If you can't cry, laugh i say, then cry and then, laugh some more!
Wednesday, 30 September 2015
Monday, 28 September 2015
AN OPEN LETTER TO A DUDE IN A TRUCK
Dear Old Dude in the truck that slowed to an almost stop, just to whistle at me and take off again as I was mowing my lawn,
I want to explain to you how this made me feel. Just a warning, this won't be short or dumbed down for your simple mind.
I am an single independent women (yes, cue Beyoncé) I have three kids which I raise all on my own. They are inside the house right now. (Destroying it no doubt) I'm embarrassed for you that they would have seen this display of degradation towards me, their mum.
I have a chronic illness which leaves me in pain and very tired, but, I want to set a good example for my kids and show them that I can look after them and do everything I need to regardless of my illness. I want to teach them that nothing in life should stop you. What I don't want to teach them is that by doing a normal everyday chore you will be subjected to mindless badgering from a dirty old man.
If I were a man mowing the lawns you wouldn't have given me a second thought. It's not that unusual for a women to mow the lawns is it? Really?
So why do you feel you have the right to whistle at me with a seedy grin when I'm in my own home doing something that is so mediocre to trillions of people in the world. I, unlike most men that take care of the lawns, do not get to go inside and sit down when I'm finished. I have to tackle the mayhem that only three unsupervised children can cause in 40 minutes. I won't have a break later in the evening as I will then have to cook dinner. After dinner I will be cleaning up, bathing children, reading stories and fighting in the never ending bedtime battle. ON MY OWN.
So why do you feel you have the right to whistle at me with a seedy grin when I'm in my own home doing something that is so mediocre to trillions of people in the world. I, unlike most men that take care of the lawns, do not get to go inside and sit down when I'm finished. I have to tackle the mayhem that only three unsupervised children can cause in 40 minutes. I won't have a break later in the evening as I will then have to cook dinner. After dinner I will be cleaning up, bathing children, reading stories and fighting in the never ending bedtime battle. ON MY OWN.
Again, your whistle baffles me, I was not parading around in skimpy tight clothing, I'm sweating and puffing with a blotchy red face as I push the mower through the grass that should have been cut weeks ago, but wasn't as I was unwell and simply to busy. I'm wearing a dirty old T-shirt and am rather disturbed to think you find this sexy.
I think you are the reason women find it hard in this world to do simple things without hesitation. You are the reason women feel uncomfortable in their own skin. Your stupid whistle sets women back so far from where we have come.
I will not stop being amazing because of your whistle, I will not stop teaching my three children that women can do anything a man can do, I will not stop teaching my son not to degrade women.
Im sure you would feel ashamed if I could stop you and tell you this, put a story to what you see as just a chick to whistle at. I hope you don't have a son or daughter that learns from your behaviours.
Sincerely
The chick you whistled at.
DEAR SMITHS CHIPS...
I'd like to take a moment from my day and share it with u Smiths chips.
I have three kids under 10, it's the first week of school holidays. The weather is inclement so the kids are tearing up the house. My nerves are on edge. I spy the box of chips on top the fridge. Quickly check where the kids are and steal away in the laundry with my mouth watering as I ever so quietly open a lunch size packet of twisties. (My favourite!!) as much as I'd love to savour this moment and enjoy ever morsel of this tiny packet slowly, I can't. Remember the kids I mentioned. So I tilt the packet, hovering just above my open mouth ready to gauge myself in delight. I take the first crunch... Wait, there is no crunch. I chew again, the same disappointment fills me with sadness. They are stale. To explain how this destroys my world I would need more time. But any mother who has had to hide to eat a treat would completely understand. My love for twisties in that one moment has been destroyed.
I have three kids under 10, it's the first week of school holidays. The weather is inclement so the kids are tearing up the house. My nerves are on edge. I spy the box of chips on top the fridge. Quickly check where the kids are and steal away in the laundry with my mouth watering as I ever so quietly open a lunch size packet of twisties. (My favourite!!) as much as I'd love to savour this moment and enjoy ever morsel of this tiny packet slowly, I can't. Remember the kids I mentioned. So I tilt the packet, hovering just above my open mouth ready to gauge myself in delight. I take the first crunch... Wait, there is no crunch. I chew again, the same disappointment fills me with sadness. They are stale. To explain how this destroys my world I would need more time. But any mother who has had to hide to eat a treat would completely understand. My love for twisties in that one moment has been destroyed.
I'm not sure how this will effect my relationship with twisties from here on... Only time will tell I guess. I'm willing to try but I'm hesitant at the least.
Regards
Disappointed mother of three.
Disappointed mother of three.
Wednesday, 25 March 2015
A STROKE OF MISFORTUNE (THE WHOLE STORY) part I
I have briefly written about my ex husbands stroke already. I think i'd like to tell you the story in depth now.
It was a usual morning for John and I. He works as a wall and floor tiler, that means he's up and off to work by 6:30 am. The usual kiss me goodbye while i'm asleep. I'm about 32 weeks pregnant, I have no need to get out of bed this early. So around 9 o'clock I heave my belly out of bed. I have this great idea that I should get some exercise (crazy I know) so I decide to go for a walk around the block. This is before the days of iPhones so I had no need to take my brick of a phone with me and left it.
By the time i wander back from my energetic stroll, I have 7 missed calls on my phone from my mother in law. I immediately called her and she said John is at the local doctors and isn't able to walk or something, she wasn't quite sure what was going on and was heading there now. I jumped in the car with her and we drove to the doc about 15 minutes away.
John had been working at a house about 300 metres up the road from their doctor who was also a family friend. His brother who walked with him had dropped him to the doc as he was feeling really unwell. at the time his bro dropped him he felt nauseous and off balance but that was about it so he went back to work.
When Johns mother and I arrived there was an ambulance out the front. This was concerning to say the least. As we entered the practise, they knew who we were and took us straight to where john was with the ambo's.
Still without a cue what was happening, I got to the doorway to find John laying on his side on the stretcher vomiting, All of a sudden his right arm flopped hard beside his body without his control. At this sight I burst into tears and backed away from the door. It wasn't a moment later that they wheeled him to the ambulance. One of the ambo's pulled me aside and questioned whether John had taken any drugs to my knowledge. My answer was no. We had dabbled in things here and there in the past but it was most certainly not something he would have done.
The ambulance was off and his mother and I were left surmising what on earth could be wrong as we drove back home. We were saying to each other that he must have pinched a nerve and would be in hospital at least the weekend so I went home to grab an overnight bag for him and would meet her at the hospital.
We arrived at the emergency department and in that short time, John had lost all control of the right side of his body. He was still awake yet quite aggressive and confused about where he was and why. By this stage his father and brother had arrived. We were all by his bed when the doctor came to see us with the most devastating news. John was having a stroke. A very large and severe stroke. John was still very unsettled, I was told to move to his right side so that he didn't accidentally lash out and hit my belly. It was so scary seeing him like this. He couldn't be reasoned with or settled. The doctor had said he'd passed his other patients onto different doctors and John was his main priority. He was doing everything he could do find a bed in a major city hospital as there was no neurological ward or surgeons here and John needed immediate medical attention or he would die.
Within around 15 minutes John had simmered down and (what we thought) had fallen asleep. When the doc came to check we were relieved and said he's settled down and sleeping. No actually, We were dead wrong. He had slipped into a coma. We had to leave the ER while they induced him further so that they could control the coma and insert breathing tubes etc. Now we waited.. 5/6 hours in fact until they could find a hospital with a bed.
In the meantime, my parents lived in the city and I had called them early on when I still thought john had just pinched a nerve (How wrong I was). Without alarming me, they realised that something serious was happening and I would need some support so they had began driving up the coast to me (around a 5 hour trip). When we received the diagnosis of the stroke I had called mum and dad who were nearly at the closest town with a major hospital. I said don't drive any further as he will either be sent there or to the city so they would either meet us there or turn back to the city.
As I said after around 5/6 hours later, time kinda of stood still as you could imagine, they had a bed. It was in the hospital mum and dad had stopped. around 3 hours drive away. The same hospital my brother had been in after his accident. John was prepared to be airlifted and we would follow by car.
We had to say our goodbyes as the helicopter had arrived and he was ready to go. This could of been the last time I saw him alive. No one knew the damage the bleed had caused or the rate it was bleeding into his brain. His parents are not very good at showing physical emotion. They patted his arm and said see you soon mate. (I understand they were very upset but wouldn't you want to kiss your child goodbye knowing it may be the last time you may ever get to!). I kissed his forehead told him how much baby and I loved hi. I said you are going to be okay, you are strong and we will get through this together. I will seen you so very soon.
I walked with the him to a certain point at the helicopter pad until i wasn't allowed any further. I went to my car and sat and watched it take off. I was in shock and couldn't even cry. I was repeatedly saying out loud to none in particular as I was alone, "I can't do this again, please please, not again"
It was all to familiar, the helicopter, a brain injury, death so close and almost imminent.
It felt like my brother all over again and only 9 months later.
It was a usual morning for John and I. He works as a wall and floor tiler, that means he's up and off to work by 6:30 am. The usual kiss me goodbye while i'm asleep. I'm about 32 weeks pregnant, I have no need to get out of bed this early. So around 9 o'clock I heave my belly out of bed. I have this great idea that I should get some exercise (crazy I know) so I decide to go for a walk around the block. This is before the days of iPhones so I had no need to take my brick of a phone with me and left it.
By the time i wander back from my energetic stroll, I have 7 missed calls on my phone from my mother in law. I immediately called her and she said John is at the local doctors and isn't able to walk or something, she wasn't quite sure what was going on and was heading there now. I jumped in the car with her and we drove to the doc about 15 minutes away.
John had been working at a house about 300 metres up the road from their doctor who was also a family friend. His brother who walked with him had dropped him to the doc as he was feeling really unwell. at the time his bro dropped him he felt nauseous and off balance but that was about it so he went back to work.
When Johns mother and I arrived there was an ambulance out the front. This was concerning to say the least. As we entered the practise, they knew who we were and took us straight to where john was with the ambo's.
Still without a cue what was happening, I got to the doorway to find John laying on his side on the stretcher vomiting, All of a sudden his right arm flopped hard beside his body without his control. At this sight I burst into tears and backed away from the door. It wasn't a moment later that they wheeled him to the ambulance. One of the ambo's pulled me aside and questioned whether John had taken any drugs to my knowledge. My answer was no. We had dabbled in things here and there in the past but it was most certainly not something he would have done.
The ambulance was off and his mother and I were left surmising what on earth could be wrong as we drove back home. We were saying to each other that he must have pinched a nerve and would be in hospital at least the weekend so I went home to grab an overnight bag for him and would meet her at the hospital.
We arrived at the emergency department and in that short time, John had lost all control of the right side of his body. He was still awake yet quite aggressive and confused about where he was and why. By this stage his father and brother had arrived. We were all by his bed when the doctor came to see us with the most devastating news. John was having a stroke. A very large and severe stroke. John was still very unsettled, I was told to move to his right side so that he didn't accidentally lash out and hit my belly. It was so scary seeing him like this. He couldn't be reasoned with or settled. The doctor had said he'd passed his other patients onto different doctors and John was his main priority. He was doing everything he could do find a bed in a major city hospital as there was no neurological ward or surgeons here and John needed immediate medical attention or he would die.
Within around 15 minutes John had simmered down and (what we thought) had fallen asleep. When the doc came to check we were relieved and said he's settled down and sleeping. No actually, We were dead wrong. He had slipped into a coma. We had to leave the ER while they induced him further so that they could control the coma and insert breathing tubes etc. Now we waited.. 5/6 hours in fact until they could find a hospital with a bed.
In the meantime, my parents lived in the city and I had called them early on when I still thought john had just pinched a nerve (How wrong I was). Without alarming me, they realised that something serious was happening and I would need some support so they had began driving up the coast to me (around a 5 hour trip). When we received the diagnosis of the stroke I had called mum and dad who were nearly at the closest town with a major hospital. I said don't drive any further as he will either be sent there or to the city so they would either meet us there or turn back to the city.
As I said after around 5/6 hours later, time kinda of stood still as you could imagine, they had a bed. It was in the hospital mum and dad had stopped. around 3 hours drive away. The same hospital my brother had been in after his accident. John was prepared to be airlifted and we would follow by car.
We had to say our goodbyes as the helicopter had arrived and he was ready to go. This could of been the last time I saw him alive. No one knew the damage the bleed had caused or the rate it was bleeding into his brain. His parents are not very good at showing physical emotion. They patted his arm and said see you soon mate. (I understand they were very upset but wouldn't you want to kiss your child goodbye knowing it may be the last time you may ever get to!). I kissed his forehead told him how much baby and I loved hi. I said you are going to be okay, you are strong and we will get through this together. I will seen you so very soon.
I walked with the him to a certain point at the helicopter pad until i wasn't allowed any further. I went to my car and sat and watched it take off. I was in shock and couldn't even cry. I was repeatedly saying out loud to none in particular as I was alone, "I can't do this again, please please, not again"
It was all to familiar, the helicopter, a brain injury, death so close and almost imminent.
It felt like my brother all over again and only 9 months later.
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
RAISING HELL… WAIT, I MEAN A BOY, YES… RAISING A BOY part II
I will refer to this as my sons Poo Stage.
Why because that's exactly what it was. A stage where it was all about poo.
He's a sensitive little dude. He is your typical boy. He would bash and bang toys no matter what they were, his sisters would dress him up like a princess and he would roar like a lion in a pretty sequin pink ensemble.
The first time the POO occurred, I put it down to age and intrigue. I think most parents have a story of at least one of their children paying with poo. This became a infatuation with my dude.
I would smell it first. Now lets just explore this for a moment. You know how you can smell dog poo if someone has stepped in it?, it has a distinct odour, not a pleasurable experience at all. Now think about baby/toddler poo. It's also a distinct smell. One of horrifying magnitudes at times.
With that smell in mind, once it's detected it cannot be ignored, nor should it.
Finding the source of the smell is usually quite simple it is a protruding nappy which has rudely interrupted your morning coffee. Usually a simple fix of changing it, disposing of it and move on with your day. My dude, although toilet training, didn't feel it was appropriate to just poo in his nappy and either take it off or cruise around till it was changed.
wait for it…. He decided, god knows why, to SMEAR the poo up and down his legs and his arms.
I will let that last sentence sink it for a moment, focus on the word SMEAR and arms and legs.
Dry reaching was definitely unavoidable at this point. The first time this happened I had that moment of What the F do I do now. I was quite astounded that he wasn't fazed by the situation. In fact he was smiling. again, What the actual F???
Okay so the only conceivable thing to do was to dump him straight in the shower. Once he was "de pooed", I would then set to work on the carpet, he was quite a messy poo artist so he did get it everywhere.
I calmly explained all the reasons to him why this was not a smart idea with strong emphasis on the fact it will possibly make him very sick.
The next time it happened, he was caught mid smear behind the couch. he had pooed on the carpet then proceeded to pick it up and begin the big poo paint. kill me NOW!!!
It started to become a regular thing. I couldn't understand how he was okay with the smell or the texture. I can only think it must be like smearing peanut butter all over your arms and legs. it was just as hard to wash off, I needed to rub it off in the shower. Tears forming from the sight and smell and from the utter gravity of what my boy was doing was not normal.
We started seeing a child psychologist. He was somewhat alarmed at these happenings also yet seemed to find it (although at the extreme end of the scale) quite a obvious reaction to his environment. It was about a tactile sensation that he could control. He couldn't control where he went what the rules of life were or his emotions, yet he could control his poo and where it was placed. Good one son!
At this point I distinctly remember saying can't he have some form of tidy OCD or an obsession with trucks like most boys? Poo! it had to be Poo!!!
Eventually he stopped doing this. I can't say I didn't try loads of different things to deter this behaviour however I'm pretty sure he just got over it on his own. That was a by far one of my lowest points of being a single mum so far.
Poo, why did it have to be poo, seriously!
As a side note, first time, second time, anytime parents, please don't be deterred from having kids by this story. It was horrifyingly yuk! But, it was a phase, granted not a widely popular one of toddlers but it was what it was. He is now 5, at school, brilliantly minded! socially confident and above all and most importantly, no longer plays with poo! kids are weird! but we love them anyhow right!
poo! bloody poooooo!
Why because that's exactly what it was. A stage where it was all about poo.
He's a sensitive little dude. He is your typical boy. He would bash and bang toys no matter what they were, his sisters would dress him up like a princess and he would roar like a lion in a pretty sequin pink ensemble.
The first time the POO occurred, I put it down to age and intrigue. I think most parents have a story of at least one of their children paying with poo. This became a infatuation with my dude.
I would smell it first. Now lets just explore this for a moment. You know how you can smell dog poo if someone has stepped in it?, it has a distinct odour, not a pleasurable experience at all. Now think about baby/toddler poo. It's also a distinct smell. One of horrifying magnitudes at times.
With that smell in mind, once it's detected it cannot be ignored, nor should it.
Finding the source of the smell is usually quite simple it is a protruding nappy which has rudely interrupted your morning coffee. Usually a simple fix of changing it, disposing of it and move on with your day. My dude, although toilet training, didn't feel it was appropriate to just poo in his nappy and either take it off or cruise around till it was changed.
wait for it…. He decided, god knows why, to SMEAR the poo up and down his legs and his arms.
I will let that last sentence sink it for a moment, focus on the word SMEAR and arms and legs.
Dry reaching was definitely unavoidable at this point. The first time this happened I had that moment of What the F do I do now. I was quite astounded that he wasn't fazed by the situation. In fact he was smiling. again, What the actual F???
Okay so the only conceivable thing to do was to dump him straight in the shower. Once he was "de pooed", I would then set to work on the carpet, he was quite a messy poo artist so he did get it everywhere.
I calmly explained all the reasons to him why this was not a smart idea with strong emphasis on the fact it will possibly make him very sick.
The next time it happened, he was caught mid smear behind the couch. he had pooed on the carpet then proceeded to pick it up and begin the big poo paint. kill me NOW!!!
It started to become a regular thing. I couldn't understand how he was okay with the smell or the texture. I can only think it must be like smearing peanut butter all over your arms and legs. it was just as hard to wash off, I needed to rub it off in the shower. Tears forming from the sight and smell and from the utter gravity of what my boy was doing was not normal.
We started seeing a child psychologist. He was somewhat alarmed at these happenings also yet seemed to find it (although at the extreme end of the scale) quite a obvious reaction to his environment. It was about a tactile sensation that he could control. He couldn't control where he went what the rules of life were or his emotions, yet he could control his poo and where it was placed. Good one son!
At this point I distinctly remember saying can't he have some form of tidy OCD or an obsession with trucks like most boys? Poo! it had to be Poo!!!
Eventually he stopped doing this. I can't say I didn't try loads of different things to deter this behaviour however I'm pretty sure he just got over it on his own. That was a by far one of my lowest points of being a single mum so far.
Poo, why did it have to be poo, seriously!
As a side note, first time, second time, anytime parents, please don't be deterred from having kids by this story. It was horrifyingly yuk! But, it was a phase, granted not a widely popular one of toddlers but it was what it was. He is now 5, at school, brilliantly minded! socially confident and above all and most importantly, no longer plays with poo! kids are weird! but we love them anyhow right!
poo! bloody poooooo!
RAISING HELL... WAIT, I MEAN A BOY, YES... RAISING A BOY part I
When my son was between the ages of 1 and 3, He wasn't the easiest child to grace this earth. He had amazing meltdowns, wouldn't get dressed, eat his food unless it was perfectly the way in which he wanted, this was a guessing game for me as he didn't actually share with me how he wished his food to appear, just what he didn't like about it.
My ex husband and I split the day before my little dudes 1st birthday. Not the greatest timing I admit but when is the right time for an event such as this. From that day the kids began the roller coaster ride of living between two parents, two houses, two sets of rules. They would and still do, stay with their father for the weekend every fortnight. Their father can and does see them between these visits from time to time, more so now than in the beginning.
Giving your 1 year old, along with a 3 and 5 year old, to someone else for two nights and three days is not natural or normal. Regardless of the fact it was their father. If my parents had them, I could call and it would be on my terms and my rules would be followed. But you see when you no longer wish to have a person in your life yet are forced to, you loose the right/power/control (whatever you wish to call it, its the same thing). I was a mess for at least the first six months of all this happening.
Why did I allow them to go you may wonder? He is their father. He is not a bad person. My children were not in a bad environment. They were not (to the best of my knowledge) in any immediate danger.
This is all sensible and seems to be the way things are commonly handled when families break apart. Try though, to explain this to a 1 year old. I have stayed at home with all of my children. I have sacrificed having a job/career, a life outside of nappies and play school. My son had been away from me at best for a night and that was only up the road with my parents. He didn't understand why he had to go with his dad all of a sudden and not see his mum from Friday afternoon till Sunday afternoon.
I would hazard a guess that majority of kids reactions when they arrive back to mum (or dad, whoever the full time career may be) is to be quite sticky.. no not from the sugary treats they have bee bribed with, I mean good luck even attempting to go to the bathroom without them. They have missed you! Extra cuddles, kisses and attention is needed. (For the parent too).
My boy did not react as such. He would appear to be almost angry and resentful towards me. It was as if I was being punished for sending him away. It broke my heart, many times.
As he grew a bit older and perhaps more aware of the situation he became quite aggressive. He would hit me and bite me, scream at me and refuse any form of affection I offered. This would last a day or two and then he would settle back down and be my adoring boy cuddly as anything again till the next stay at his dads.
I figured it was a phase. A very hard one, but given time he would adjust and except the situation for what it was. Surely as he grew in age he could start to comprehend that I was not sending nor pushing him or the girls away from me. Quite the opposite happened. The aggressive behaviour got worse and would stretch out from one to two days to a week, then to the point he was never happy.
He became withdrawn. I had to battle every single thing with him. He would refuse to even leave the house or go anywhere. Of course he had to because the girls had school and I needed to go to the supermarket etc. I lost count of the amount of times I had to pin him down just to get clothes on him and then drag him to the car reluctantly while the neighbours were probably on the phone to docs!
My boy would shut down from around thursday evening, knowing that Friday he would be going to his dads. Time spent with his Pa (my father) was about the only thing he was happy about. Pa became a sanctuary to him, his safe haven, reliable and never changing. He also saved my sanity! Pa is amazing with all kids, the girls adore him like nothing i've ever seen. He plays an important role with my boy though, he teaches him to be a kind and polite, intelligent male. Something perhaps his father is needing to also be taught!
I had tried sending my son to preschool for a while when he was nearly 4. It was horrible. He would get so upset about leaving me that I had to lie to him and not tell him where we were going. That was the straw that broke the camels back for me. This kid is hurting so badly inside and all he wants is his mum, here I am sending him away to strangers. So I canned that after about 5 weeks of crying and screaming every day. Guess what? It was the best decision I've made so far for him. We began to have special days to break up the cycles we were in. To break what I can now look back and see was some pretty extreme anxiety. W had mummy days where I did no house work or chores, we chose together what to do and would do it. some days it was sitting on the couch watching a movie. Other days were more adventurous at the beach. then we had Shopping days and town days. Once he had a pre planned idea in his head of what would be happening that day he was okay about it. (Not perfect, the tantrums were still happening, but better)
There is a stage i've not spoken about just yet… I think it deserves an entire post of it's own, I also don't won't to over whelm any parents to be all in one blog, so I will leave a "To Be Continued" right here and post part 2 as soon as I can.
My ex husband and I split the day before my little dudes 1st birthday. Not the greatest timing I admit but when is the right time for an event such as this. From that day the kids began the roller coaster ride of living between two parents, two houses, two sets of rules. They would and still do, stay with their father for the weekend every fortnight. Their father can and does see them between these visits from time to time, more so now than in the beginning.
Giving your 1 year old, along with a 3 and 5 year old, to someone else for two nights and three days is not natural or normal. Regardless of the fact it was their father. If my parents had them, I could call and it would be on my terms and my rules would be followed. But you see when you no longer wish to have a person in your life yet are forced to, you loose the right/power/control (whatever you wish to call it, its the same thing). I was a mess for at least the first six months of all this happening.
Why did I allow them to go you may wonder? He is their father. He is not a bad person. My children were not in a bad environment. They were not (to the best of my knowledge) in any immediate danger.
This is all sensible and seems to be the way things are commonly handled when families break apart. Try though, to explain this to a 1 year old. I have stayed at home with all of my children. I have sacrificed having a job/career, a life outside of nappies and play school. My son had been away from me at best for a night and that was only up the road with my parents. He didn't understand why he had to go with his dad all of a sudden and not see his mum from Friday afternoon till Sunday afternoon.
I would hazard a guess that majority of kids reactions when they arrive back to mum (or dad, whoever the full time career may be) is to be quite sticky.. no not from the sugary treats they have bee bribed with, I mean good luck even attempting to go to the bathroom without them. They have missed you! Extra cuddles, kisses and attention is needed. (For the parent too).
My boy did not react as such. He would appear to be almost angry and resentful towards me. It was as if I was being punished for sending him away. It broke my heart, many times.
As he grew a bit older and perhaps more aware of the situation he became quite aggressive. He would hit me and bite me, scream at me and refuse any form of affection I offered. This would last a day or two and then he would settle back down and be my adoring boy cuddly as anything again till the next stay at his dads.
I figured it was a phase. A very hard one, but given time he would adjust and except the situation for what it was. Surely as he grew in age he could start to comprehend that I was not sending nor pushing him or the girls away from me. Quite the opposite happened. The aggressive behaviour got worse and would stretch out from one to two days to a week, then to the point he was never happy.
He became withdrawn. I had to battle every single thing with him. He would refuse to even leave the house or go anywhere. Of course he had to because the girls had school and I needed to go to the supermarket etc. I lost count of the amount of times I had to pin him down just to get clothes on him and then drag him to the car reluctantly while the neighbours were probably on the phone to docs!
My boy would shut down from around thursday evening, knowing that Friday he would be going to his dads. Time spent with his Pa (my father) was about the only thing he was happy about. Pa became a sanctuary to him, his safe haven, reliable and never changing. He also saved my sanity! Pa is amazing with all kids, the girls adore him like nothing i've ever seen. He plays an important role with my boy though, he teaches him to be a kind and polite, intelligent male. Something perhaps his father is needing to also be taught!
I had tried sending my son to preschool for a while when he was nearly 4. It was horrible. He would get so upset about leaving me that I had to lie to him and not tell him where we were going. That was the straw that broke the camels back for me. This kid is hurting so badly inside and all he wants is his mum, here I am sending him away to strangers. So I canned that after about 5 weeks of crying and screaming every day. Guess what? It was the best decision I've made so far for him. We began to have special days to break up the cycles we were in. To break what I can now look back and see was some pretty extreme anxiety. W had mummy days where I did no house work or chores, we chose together what to do and would do it. some days it was sitting on the couch watching a movie. Other days were more adventurous at the beach. then we had Shopping days and town days. Once he had a pre planned idea in his head of what would be happening that day he was okay about it. (Not perfect, the tantrums were still happening, but better)
There is a stage i've not spoken about just yet… I think it deserves an entire post of it's own, I also don't won't to over whelm any parents to be all in one blog, so I will leave a "To Be Continued" right here and post part 2 as soon as I can.
Thursday, 19 March 2015
AUTO PILOT ISN'T ALWAYS TO BE TRUSTED
so unfortunately my ex was in my head today for reasons that I don't need to go into, it did however make me upset and I figured what better way to get rid of the feelings than blog right?!
I was 6 months separated. I had no interest what so ever in ever getting back together with my husband and I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual. we got/get along well enough so no big deal.
The kids were 18 months old, 3 1/2 and 5 1/2 years old. I randomly met a guy through mutual friends.
He was so dreamy! He was a pilot, tall dark and handsome. He had two kids himself similar ages to my eldest two. So you know, he got it. Or so I thought. Anyhow, throughout my marriage I was quite neglected. My ex was not a touchy feely person, he wouldn't even hold my hand at home alone! I am a touchy feely person. I hug and kiss my friends always, even when I'm hanging out with them, I love a cuddle or linking arms etc. And, to me showing affection is showing the world you love the people around you but more importantly its showing that to them!
So along comes this guy, he's about 6 years older so he was a little more mature compared to the ex. He chased me, showed me he was interested yet was always a gentleman about it. I fell head over hills for him pretty quickly, he seemed to do the same. A few things didn't immediately add up though. and I guess being naive isn't even an excuse. After seven years of a torturous relationship I was willing to ignore the red flags and figured that it would be okay.
The biggest red flag was his ex wife. She had it in for me from day one. He had cheated on her. At the time of meeting him, he had fully disclosed this yet he said it was a once off with a random. (turns out there were at least 5 different women and they weren't all once offs or strangers!) After about 6 months, we started to integrate kids with each other and from there introduced the kids to each other. Long story short they got along fabulously well, to the point they all called each other brother and sister and wanted us to be married. The ex wife on the other hand, who lived in a hippy commune (without even a working toilet), was telling the kids I was a horrible person and not to talk to me etc. Basically anything nasty you could think of she was doing, including hitting on him and trying to get him to stay over at her house. He did on a few occasions. Now I am not that naive. I was furious about all this. The thing that really hurt was that he never supported me. Never stood up for me against her. It caused many fights and always ended with I should be the bigger person and ignore her. In the end I was the crazy one according to him. I did find texts on his phone accidentally (sort of) that proved other wise.
There were other things like a chick he was dating before me would send pictures and inappropriate texts. He said I was stupid and she meant nothing and didn't know why she would still be texting. (ridiculous we lasted beyond this point really). The problem is, I loved him dearly. He told me I was the one for him and that one day we would get married. We talked about the type of house we'd live in. He was close with my parents. He was Mr. Charisma. Could sell ice to Eskimos this man! He had me charmed beyond words and I just couldn't see straight when it came to him. Or i didn't want to is probably more accurate. Things got worse we were fighting more often. He had all but hidden me from his family playing down our relationship yet was practically living full time at my house with the kids and i.
I eventually got sick of arguing and feeling like the nut job he made me out to be and broke it off. Within 2 weeks we were sort of seeing each other again, its hard when you love someone. Then I found out he'd already run back to the chick that was texting throughout our entire relationship and was also seeing another chick he apparently was just friends with. I am almost positive this shit was happening when we were together. He was always away sporadic being that he was a pilot so there was plenty of opportunities.
After finally stepping away from the bastard and having some perspective, I realised he had constantly lied to me, he was for lack of a better term, a pathological liar! He believed his own stories, which always changed.
I am still deeply hurt from this relationship. I mourn the person I loved, but that person doesn't, and never did, exist. I don't know how to get closure from those feelings. I am so hard on the guys I now meet. I am so wary of falling for someone again who is only going to lie to me. It won't stop me loving, I want to love, it will just take its time I guess. Not only did he hurt me, he hurt my children! Although it may sound like I haven't mentioned this, it's only because that's the deepest hurt of all and I'm not sure writing about that is a good thing. Those scars are held very very close to my heart and are still fresh and raw.
I don't understand how a person can do this to another. I hope to meet an amazing man one day that is satisfied with me the way I am. Who doesn't feel the need to lie to me. A strong man that will walk by my side and put his arm around me because he is proud to show the world we are together. A man that can hold me up when I don't have the strength to hold myself up anymore, but lets me hold him when I am strong and he is not.
Blah Blah Blah, it's all sappy I know. You may now go and vomit.
thanks for letting me get that off my chest though!!!
I was 6 months separated. I had no interest what so ever in ever getting back together with my husband and I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual. we got/get along well enough so no big deal.
The kids were 18 months old, 3 1/2 and 5 1/2 years old. I randomly met a guy through mutual friends.
He was so dreamy! He was a pilot, tall dark and handsome. He had two kids himself similar ages to my eldest two. So you know, he got it. Or so I thought. Anyhow, throughout my marriage I was quite neglected. My ex was not a touchy feely person, he wouldn't even hold my hand at home alone! I am a touchy feely person. I hug and kiss my friends always, even when I'm hanging out with them, I love a cuddle or linking arms etc. And, to me showing affection is showing the world you love the people around you but more importantly its showing that to them!
So along comes this guy, he's about 6 years older so he was a little more mature compared to the ex. He chased me, showed me he was interested yet was always a gentleman about it. I fell head over hills for him pretty quickly, he seemed to do the same. A few things didn't immediately add up though. and I guess being naive isn't even an excuse. After seven years of a torturous relationship I was willing to ignore the red flags and figured that it would be okay.
The biggest red flag was his ex wife. She had it in for me from day one. He had cheated on her. At the time of meeting him, he had fully disclosed this yet he said it was a once off with a random. (turns out there were at least 5 different women and they weren't all once offs or strangers!) After about 6 months, we started to integrate kids with each other and from there introduced the kids to each other. Long story short they got along fabulously well, to the point they all called each other brother and sister and wanted us to be married. The ex wife on the other hand, who lived in a hippy commune (without even a working toilet), was telling the kids I was a horrible person and not to talk to me etc. Basically anything nasty you could think of she was doing, including hitting on him and trying to get him to stay over at her house. He did on a few occasions. Now I am not that naive. I was furious about all this. The thing that really hurt was that he never supported me. Never stood up for me against her. It caused many fights and always ended with I should be the bigger person and ignore her. In the end I was the crazy one according to him. I did find texts on his phone accidentally (sort of) that proved other wise.
There were other things like a chick he was dating before me would send pictures and inappropriate texts. He said I was stupid and she meant nothing and didn't know why she would still be texting. (ridiculous we lasted beyond this point really). The problem is, I loved him dearly. He told me I was the one for him and that one day we would get married. We talked about the type of house we'd live in. He was close with my parents. He was Mr. Charisma. Could sell ice to Eskimos this man! He had me charmed beyond words and I just couldn't see straight when it came to him. Or i didn't want to is probably more accurate. Things got worse we were fighting more often. He had all but hidden me from his family playing down our relationship yet was practically living full time at my house with the kids and i.
I eventually got sick of arguing and feeling like the nut job he made me out to be and broke it off. Within 2 weeks we were sort of seeing each other again, its hard when you love someone. Then I found out he'd already run back to the chick that was texting throughout our entire relationship and was also seeing another chick he apparently was just friends with. I am almost positive this shit was happening when we were together. He was always away sporadic being that he was a pilot so there was plenty of opportunities.
After finally stepping away from the bastard and having some perspective, I realised he had constantly lied to me, he was for lack of a better term, a pathological liar! He believed his own stories, which always changed.
I am still deeply hurt from this relationship. I mourn the person I loved, but that person doesn't, and never did, exist. I don't know how to get closure from those feelings. I am so hard on the guys I now meet. I am so wary of falling for someone again who is only going to lie to me. It won't stop me loving, I want to love, it will just take its time I guess. Not only did he hurt me, he hurt my children! Although it may sound like I haven't mentioned this, it's only because that's the deepest hurt of all and I'm not sure writing about that is a good thing. Those scars are held very very close to my heart and are still fresh and raw.
I don't understand how a person can do this to another. I hope to meet an amazing man one day that is satisfied with me the way I am. Who doesn't feel the need to lie to me. A strong man that will walk by my side and put his arm around me because he is proud to show the world we are together. A man that can hold me up when I don't have the strength to hold myself up anymore, but lets me hold him when I am strong and he is not.
Blah Blah Blah, it's all sappy I know. You may now go and vomit.
thanks for letting me get that off my chest though!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)