a few unrelated items

In case any of you were amazed and/or concerned about my positive, can-do attitude the past couple of weeks, I thought you’d like to know that I had a complete and total meltdown last Saturday.  So emotional I could not function.  Every time sweet Matt would check on me, I would begin to weep uncontrollably.  I hadn’t cried at all about losing the baby and all that entailed, so this was an overdue catharsis.  I don’t know why it took almost two weeks to hit, unless my psyche somehow knew a Saturday would be better, since Matt could manage my life while I had an all-day cry.

I didn’t tell you that so you’d feel sorry for me.  Just thought you’d like to know it’s normal to be upset and cry.  I really hate it when people act like life is jolly all of the time.  Editing out the bad stuff is common practice in the blogosphere, and I think it does a disservice to other women.

In what could only be called a happy coincidence, my dear mother and father arrived the next day.  I hope this won’t make anyone too jealous, but my mother does windows.  She also cleans out refrigerators.  And dusts long-neglected corners.  And a whole slew of other tasks, without ever being asked.  Never one to waste a vacation, my father is happy to discard rotten fruit (like enough apples to fill our rather large garbage can, and then some), trim shrubbery (some of which won’t bloom now, but I’m counting my blessings), and make helpful suggestions about one’s yard (“I think if I were you, I’d take that apple tree out.”).

While my parents were here helping me get more done in two days than I’ve accomplished in the last four months, I had the opportunity to volunteer a couple of hours at my childrens’ elementary school.  I wondered, when they called to ask, why it would be necessary to check every single child’s vision each and every year.  Wouldn’t their pediatrician check?  Wouldn’t their parents notice they couldn’t see?  Well, who knows what all of the scenarios are in these dear childrens’ lives, but I’ll just tell you that of the fifty or so kids I screened, at least half a dozen of them were definitely in need of vision correction (that’s in addition to all of the kids who have glasses already).  How on earth were they functioning, I wonder?  Some of them were just below the normal, but a couple had seriously, seriously, poor eyesight.  Was it worth a couple of my precious hours to help identify a child who might soon be able to see the chalkboard, because they got the glasses they need?  Yep.

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9 thoughts on “a few unrelated items

  1. Kate

    Liz, I love your honesty about your feelings. I’m sorry for all my comments, but I feel like I relate to all you must be feeling recently. Mourning the loss of children is very real and it hurts. We had a failed adoption almost one year ago (actually almost the same date as this new baby is due to arrive) and I was in a pretty serious funk for almost 4 months after it fell through. My case worker told us to mourn that child like we had lost a child. She told us it was that real and very important that we mourned in whatever way we felt we should so we could honestly move forward. For the next four months I was very sad and, well, bitter. I realize now that I was not only mourning the loss of that adoption but also the loss of my biological children that I always thought I would have. (My hope is that I may still be able to someday). It was something I needed to go through and I am very grateful for all I gained from that experience. I guess I say all of this because I think of you often and because I have spent many days in tears too. I let the feeling wash through me and I can say I feel like a more complete person having felt them. That’s all. I don’t know how to put this but I think the honesty you share helps women like me know the feelings I have had and still do have, are normal. Thanks.

    Reply
  2. Kristi

    Can Roger & Rozanne come to my house next? :) I love you, Liz… hope you can feel this giant bear hug through these typewritten words.
    ~ Kristi

    Reply
  3. Anne

    Beth and I were just talking last night about how cool Mom is. Beth told me about Mom showing up at her house recently loaded down with beans, cantelope, bread, jam, etc. (You can picture the scene.) Then I told her about how Mom carted a cooler of tomatoes from Oregon to Idaho to Utah, all so we could enjoy the garden goodness. :)

    Reply
  4. Katy

    It is good to hear that you actually were able to have a good cry. You always seem so strong and able to your emotions, and I feel like a blubbering idiot at times. I had one of those moments on Sunday. Probably stress overload compounded by many other factors.

    You can send your mom here, my fridge, actually fridges, need serious help and I feeling paralyzed by dealing with sick people that I can’t seem to get anything done.

    You would surprised that you may not notice your child needs glasses. I asked Caroline, my sister, about getting glasses as a child (we thought Karin might need glasses). Obviously somebody noticed she needed glasses, but she didn’t realize the things she was not seeing. She said she didn’t realize trees had individual leaves, it was just a blob, until she got glasses. She didn’t know that she could see some things.

    Reply
  5. Emily

    You make me want to go volunteer at the elementary school across the street, Liz.

    And I’m right there with you on the need to be optimistic, but also real; all of it helps us find perspective and gain insight. I do find, though, that focusing on the positive helps create more happy moments. Don’t quite understand the phenomenon, but it holds true for me every time — Law of Attraction, perhaps?
    I think you do a terrific job of keeping on the sunny side and also keeping it real.

    Reply
  6. Andrew

    As the only male respondent to your blog, I have a hard time imagining crying for a whole day — although in some ways, it seems like it could be a very necessary, cleansing experience. In our culture, it seems that it’s not really acceptable for a man to sob and express grief that much. We’re supposed to be strong and unemotional. However, I have had times of my life in which I had a good, long and loud cry. The day of my father’s death is the most memorable one. I was among family members (Dan, Vicki, Nate and Olya) who had a similar need to grieve vocally, and it was great to just let it all out unashamed.

    Reply
  7. robinbl

    One thing I remember learning from when Kent passed away is that no one can tell another person how to mourn. Nobody can in all truth say “I know exactly how you feel” because they don’t. Everyone is different, and how and when you emotionally come to terms with your loss is unique to you and your situation. I’m glad that you have such a strong support system in your parents and others who love you. There’s nothing like a mom to make things seem so much better!

    Reply
  8. Vicki

    I’m so happy that your parents came to visit. How cool of them to help out so much around the house and yard. That probably really gave you a lift. Nothing like some extra help to make things seem more manageable.

    Reply

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