I Swear That I'm Not Trying To Start Mess

Really, I'm not.  But when I spot incorrect, inaccurate, or misleading information, I'm going to call it out.  Especially when it involves my children's healthcare.

I'm taking responsibility for the fact that two months had passed before I actually looked at this information.  But I'm still going to look into the issue and try to have it resolved.  It involves inaccurate information on my child's health record at the eye doctor.

You see, (no pun intended), I took Emi to the eye doctor back in September because I had noticed a photo of her that showed the dreaded "white-eye reflex".  As a scientist, I was cool and level-headed, knowing that more likely than not, it was nothing....however, as a mother, I flipped out.  All that Mommy-Me could think was that some evil cancer was going to rob my sweet baby of her eyesight, and potentially her life.  Either as a scientist or a mother, I couldn't let that happen.  I called the pediatrician (totally poking fun at myself and telling them that I AM that mother, you can shake your head at me when you hang up the phone, thanks for entertaining me and my neurosis) and she gave us a referral to a pediatric ophthalmologist.

I took Emi to the eye doctor.  You know, filled out about 20 pages of paperwork, submitted my driver's license and insurance card, signed this, that and the other, and waited.  Luckily, we didn't have to wait too long to see the doctor.  He was super nice, as was the nurse who dilated Emi's eyes.  I was told that her eyes were super healthy, and that she could see very well for a three-month old...no abnormalities.  Mommy-Me was relieved as Scientist-Me scolded her and said, "See, I TOLD you!"  I took the papers, with a one-year follow up exam scheduled, and home we came.

Fast-forward to a few days ago.  I actually read the front page of the paperwork.  I mean, really read it.  They, without any question being asked of me, listed Emi as "Black or African-American".

That's inaccurate.

That's misleading.

That's just plain wrong.

And, no one asked me.

I completely understand that there can be different health concerns for different ethnicities....I get it (there are also socio-economic, educational background, familial health history factors to consider).  But, to list either of my children as "Black/African-American" and nothing else is wrong.  To me, it's a slap in the face to my husband, their father, who is not Black.  It's a slap in the face to them.  It says, "You must deny half of yourself and all of one parent, because the 'One Drop' rule is in effect because I said so."  Someone just decided that they would just identify our daughter as this, and I'm thinking that the decision was based on the fact that it was just her and me at the check-in desk.

So, I called to have this corrected on her charts.  Honestly, it could very well affect her healthcare choices in the future.  It's wrong to say that she's a Black child.  It's wrong to say that she's a White child.  It's ok, however, to say that she's Bi-Racial, if you MUST label her.  And if you do, then you need to make sure what her 'ethnic composure' really is, because 'bi-racial' could be anything.  It just means that both parents aren't of the same ethnic descent.

But, I didn't stop there.  I asked the nurse, "If she had come with my husband, her father, would she have been listed as White?"

No answer.

"I just think that if this information is going to be listed on a medical chart, then someone should ask, not just assume.  It could alter discussions and choices that need to be made."

"Ummm....we'll get that changed on her records."

"OK.  She's Black-White bi-racial.  Thank you."

"I'll see to it that it's changed.  Thank you, ma'am."

I was never asked (though the doctor and I did talk about it during the appointment).  And, let's just be honest....if you look at our children, you can tell that they are not "all Black".  You can't help but notice it.

The hubster and I talked about it before I called.  I wanted him to know that I wasn't trying to start any trouble, or some potential media poop-storm....just in case it got ugly and I had to call the local news...but I just want what's right for our girls.  They are the changing face of not only America, but of the world.  They are beautiful combinations of Danish, English, African, Native American, Irish.  They are like awesome chocolate-vanilla ice cream swirl cones with rainbow sprinkles (and who doesn't love rainbow sprinkles??).  And they should be proud of their mixed heritage.  They should never be forced to identify one way or the other, because it's just plain wrong.

So, I'll call back next week to check and see that her record has been corrected.  Not only for her sake, but for the sake of all of the children born to an ethnically diverse couple.  They should make their own choices on ethnic self-identification, not have strangers make those choices for them.

Daddy and our "Mixed & Happys"

Just call me "Judgy McJudgerson"

Ok, I did it.  I judged another parent today.  And yes, I do feel bad about it, but before you judge me know this:  1)  I think that 99% of the time, 99% of parents are just doing their best to bring up good people (there is that small number of people who just should NOT be responsible for another living human being); 2) While I did judge this parent, I also felt bad for her at the same time; 3) While I did judge this parent, I also felt bad for the kid at the same time.

Here's the set-up:

Tots, Toots and I were in CFA for a girls' lunch.  (I know, I know....it's fast food and all that jazz, but work with me, here).  We sat across from a mom (at least I assume that she is the mother) her 4 year old son, and her toddler daughter.  Tots was happily munching on her chicken nuggets, apple juice, and my chicken tortilla soup.  I was having an original and a sweet tea.  The four year old boy (I know that he was four, because he told several people his age) ate three original sandwiches, a large order of waffle fries, a box of chicken strips, a large (adult) soda, which was refilled a couple of times, a milk shake, and some cookies.  In one setting.  And when he slid out of his seat, he could not walk around the table without wheezing.  And his mom just smiled and laughed and called him "Her little Gordito".

How incredibly sad.  And, I judged them.

But here's my side of it.  How in the world could you let your child eat THAT MUCH in one setting????  How could you not feel that something was wrong with this situation?  He could very well have an emotional or medical issue which causes him to eat this massive volume of food in one setting (Prader-Willi syndrome first came to mind, but there were other physical characteristics typical of PWS that were not obviously present here). Maybe his mother doesn't know any other way to interact with her child, other than food.  I mean, Tots LOVES her CFA, no lie....but if we don't eat it, she may get upset and all, but she's more than happy to do something else fun.

It's sad that there is the possibility that their relationship as mother and son is purely based on food.  It's also sad that she may not know how to BE with her child, or communicate with him in ways that don't involve food.  It's terribly heart-breaking to think that this child may have a severe emotional, mental, or medical problem that causes this...and that his parents either don't have the resources, or the knowledge, or don't care to get him help.  His mom *seemed* all to happy to call him 'Gordito'....this is not to say that she's not torn up inside.  Maybe she does know that something is wrong, but has resigned herself to this fate.  But what about HIS fate?  This poor boy is a walking time-bomb who could very well not see his 10th birthday, let alone his 6th.

I'm going to assume that she loves that boy with all of her heart.  I'm also going to assume that all of her decisions regarding her son are based on the love that a mother has for her child.  I'm even going to assume that he is the apple of her eye....and that maybe, just maybe, she doesn't know any other way to express her love for him, except through food....and that's sad.  Yes, I know that in the South, nothing says "I love you" like a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy, green beans and mac & cheese, served with a big ol' glass of sweet tea and followed by some pecan pie with ice cream.  I get it.  I'm Southern.  But still......

And what about the little girl?  Is she going to grow up, ultimately without her brother?  Is she going to think that this is normal?  What's going to happen when she has children of her own?

When I got married, I decided to put my husband's health and happiness on the top of my "Things Most Important To Me" list...above my own, even.  When I became a mother, my children's health and happiness went on that list as well.  They are my responsibility.  It is my duty to them to make sure that they are, first and foremost, healthy (not eating junk food all of the time), then that they are happy (having some M&M's, or chips on occasion).  I'm not opposed to fast food, sugary snacks, and cupcakes on occasion, but my kids aren't going to make multiple meals per day out of those foods.  Even Cookie Monster understands that cookies are a "sometimes" food.  If either of mine, or even Hubby, ate like that...I tell you that we'd be in a doctor's office so quickly, everyone's heads would be swimming!

So, in the end...I judged, and I felt bad about it, because I don't know the story of their family.  But, I hope that someone can help before it's too late.

I know too many.....

On several occasions, people have asked me why I share links to information about pregnancy and infant loss, or prayers for families who have babies that were lost too soon.  They get really concerned and ask me, "What's your story?" or they say, "I didn't know!  You've never talked about it!"

Well, I haven't talked about it, because I've never experienced it.  I cannot imagine what the loss of a child does to a family.  How a mother has her very soul ripped from her being.  How a father feels powerless to fight back the darkness.  How brothers and sisters wonder "what happened".  How grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends try to process tragedy.  Now, I will tell you that I have held friends who have lost their babies.  I have tried to absorb the pain from them....tried to help it to pass....but I can't.  I can only be there...be there to listen to stories about their babies, dry tears as they flow, pray for healing, pray for comfort for them.

I know how much I love my babies, and I know that I have no idea what I would do without them.  When pregnant, I worried about my babies as any other mother would.  But, I planned, I prayed, I held my breath, and in the end, we brought our babies home.  They are healthy and happy, and the delight of my soul.

I simply cannot comprehend the darkness that I would see and feel if they were not here.  And that's why my heart goes out to the families who live with this reality each and every day.  Knowing that there is always an empty spot at the dinner table.  One less smile in vacation pictures.  One trick-or-treater missing.  One set of unpurchased Christmas gifts.

I don't know how these families can find the strength.  It is not the proper order of things.  Parents should not have to bury their children.  It's wrong.  Plain and simple.  It shouldn't be this way.

Every single day, my heart goes out to my friends, and to strangers, who live with this reality.  I pray for them, for their babies, for understanding....though I'm guessing that understanding will never come....it can't...not when life happens in such an out of order way.

So, here is my prayer for all of my family, friends, acquaintances, and strangers who mourn the loss of their babies every day:

Dear Heavenly Father,

We don't always know the why behind Your decisions, just that we must trust Your decisions.  It's not always easy, but You know best.  I pray that You wrap your loving and healing arms around the hearts and lives of families who mourn the loss of their precious babies.  Touch their hearts and minds so that they know You are the only One who loves these precious babies more.  Help us to understand that even though their lives may have been too short for us, they are eternally and supremely happy in Your presence.  As we miss them, remind us of how they are a part of the wind that blows, the rain that falls, and the sun that shines.  Please let the babies know that they are loved, cherished, and missed more than words can ever express.  We carry them in our hearts always and await the day when that joyous reunion happens, and the families are complete.

Mother Mary, please care for the children as only you can.  Blessed Mother, also care for those left behind to mourn them.  Your heart knows the pain of loss, and also knows the blessing of healing.  Help us to trust in the Lord as you have trusted in Him and help us to be accepting of the Healing that only He can offer.

Amen

Just because my husband works for the government.....

Ok, I have to put this out there, and I hope that I don't get hubby into any hot water, but there are some folks out there who need to know....

Just because he works for the government, does NOT mean that our health care is free.  It does not mean that we are living on easy street.

But most of all, it does NOT mean that he does not work.

In fact, he is one of the hardest working men that I have ever known.  He does stuff.  REAL stuff.  Manned Spaceflight kind of stuff.  He works to advance the knowledge base of the world.  He works to keep our friends safe as they live and work above the Earth.  He has to leave his family to make sure that others can do their jobs.  He accumulates vacation that he never gets to use.  He stresses, he worries, he gets frustrated...just like everyone else.

Taxes come out of his paycheck, just like they do yours.  When you stop and think about it, his taxes have a shorter trip out of his check and back to the government than others.

Don't forget, when someone is bashing ALL government employees, they are bashing my husband...and that pisses me off.  We are your neighbors, your friends, your drinking buddies.  We worry, just as every other normal, working person does.

He works for the government....he is NOT the government.  You see, the government is made up of elected officials.  You, in fact, ARE paying them directly when you compare their paychecks to my husband's paychecks.  When you look at the nation's budget, the meager part that his salary is carved out of doesn't even amount to one-half of one percent.

It's not just him....it's also our friends and loved ones who earn their salary by working for the government.  When you talk trash about them, it hurts.

So all that I'm saying is, when you decide to talk mess about government employees, make sure that you have the right group of people in mind.  You should make sure that your trash talking is directed at POLITICIANS.  Not these hard working women and men at NASA.  Not your friendly mail carriers.  Not the men and women who pick up the trash, work on the roads, keep our national parks and museums open, process passports, and the like.

In closing, if you talk trash about my husband and his co-workers, be prepared to see me go 50 shades of cray-cray from my soapbox.

Thank you, and good night.

Is a rainbow worth it?

Ok, so you read the title and you think, "What kind of question is that?  What is this crazy broad talking about?"  Well, give me a minute, and I'll tell you.

Let me back up by first saying that while I may not be the most religious person, I am deeply spiritual and full of the faith of God.  With that being said, I have told my sweet Tots, maybe once or twice, that only God loves her more than Daddy and Mommy do.  At 2.5 years old (and that .5 years is very important to a person her age) I have believed that if she were actually paying attention to me when I said this, that she didn't really get it.  And that's cool....she's got the rest of her life to get it, right?  Right.

Well, yesterday morning, Tots was doing her typical last minute dwadle in getting out of the door to go to school.  This particular morning was different.  I had to drop Tots off at her Amie's house so that I could get Toots to a doctor's appointment by 9A.  I had packed a breakfast bento box for Tots, got her lunch together, had an extra-extra set of clothes packed in her backpack and had given her the "please behave like a civilized person" talk.  The, "please-for-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy-behave-for-like-a-perfect-angel-for-Amie-so-that-she-will-look-after-you-again-when-Mommy-is-in-a-bind-because-I-trust-her-so-completely-with-you-and-she-is-my-right-hand-woman" talk.  You know the one.  I'm sure that some of you, out there in cyberland, have given that speech to your kids.

So, anyway, it's getting late.  Later than I want it to be, and we need to get going.  For anyone who knows me, you know that I absolutely HATE being late for anything.  Shoot, I even have my babies early!  That's how much I hate being late.

But, it's getting late.  And Tots is doing her thing..  And I'm wanting her to hurry up, because we have to go from Clear Lake to down past the Astrodome by 9A.  That's quite a drive in morning traffic, and it could take upwards of an hour to get there....and we're late.

I finally wrangle Toots into her carseat, and get both girls into the car.  I pull out of the garage and we're off to Amie's house.  As I round the corner from our house, I look up and see an absolutely beautiful rainbow, arced against a sky so perfectly gray, it looked like smooth slate.  The colors were so very vivid, like nothing I had ever seen before.  And I wanted Tots to see it.  Yes, we were running late, but for some reason, I was compelled to pull the car over, take her out of her car seat, hoist her up into the air, and point out this perfect rainbow.  Upon closer inspection, we saw that it was not only a beautiful rainbow, it was a beautiful, PERFECT DOUBLE rainbow!!!  O.  M. G!!!  It was amazing.  It was an unbroken arc across this sky.  It was like all of the color had been removed from the sky so that these rainbows could dance.

I know, I know.....refraction and reflection of light throug a prisim, rhodopsin synthesis and deactivation, visual transduction pathways, blah, blah, blah.....But....

This looked like it had been painted on the sky, at exactly that particular moment in time, to see what decision I would make.  It was a test.  Would I take the time to see the beauty AND show my daughter?  Or, would I rush through it and hope that I would see something like that again?

I took the time.  It wasn't much time, but I took it.  We got out and looked at those rainbows.

As I was putting Tots back in her seat, I said to her, "You see Honey-Bunny?  Those rainbows are God saying, 'I love you.'"

And, with the sincerity that only a two-and-a-half year old can have, she put her hands on my cheeks and said to me, "Mommy, only God loves you more than I do."

To.  My.  Knees.

So, I think that I passed that test.

You see, by the time that we got to Amie's house (less than 5 minutes away) and I told her about it...it was gone.  I mean, it was still hanging in the sky when we pulled into her driveway and walked up to the door. Not two minutes later, it was gone.

We may, or may not see such a beautiful set of rainbows ever again....but Tots and I got to share a rare, special moment, all because I took a breath and chose to show her this.  As if God, Himself, orchestrated these rainbows....to remind me to stop worrying about the clock all of the time?  To remember my blessings?  To know that Tots is a deeply loving, caring, beautiful, and observant person who really "gets it" and that if I just stop for one minute, I could learn so much from her.....?

I don't know, but I do know the value of a rainbow.

So, ask me if a rainbow is worth it...

I'll tell you, "Oh yes.  It's worth more than you know."

His vs. Hers: To-Do List Challenge

His:

Hers:

Simple enough, right?  Let's hope so!

When Mommy is Tired....

Oh man....it happened last night.  And, I feel like a mommy-failure.  I was tired, and didn't even hear my own baby crying, like six inches away from my head.  She was all-out crying, and I was laying there, asleep.  When hubby came out of the bathroom and called my name, I jolted awake and feared that something was wrong.  And it was.....I let my tired be more important than my baby's cries.

Horrible.  Rotten.  Mommy. Moment.

And then this morning, I cried in the shower.  Not just *sniff, sniff* cry.  But that "I-am-so-tired-I-don't-know-what-to-do-but-cry" ugly cry.  I hoped that no one heard me and I tried to stop sniffing when I turned the water off, but it was hard.  Because I fell asleep, again, while hubby was getting dressed.

Then, I read two articles about babies dying after accidentally being left in parked cars...a reoccurring nightmare that I've been having about Toots for over a week now.  In one of the stories that I read, a baby was suffering so much, that she pulled all of her hair out before she....well, you know.

Then, I held my Emi so tight and started crying again.  I'm so afraid of my exhaustion right now, I can't even begin to explain it.  I'm terrified to get in the car and go somewhere because I fear that I'll either leave her at home alone, or in the car.  As with KP, I put the diaper bag on the floor underneath the car seat...as a precaution....because I don't want to have to live that nightmare.  See diaper bag, see baby.  Pick up diaper bag, pick up baby.  But, I'm worried that I am just that tired, which leads to distraction, which could lead to life-changing disaster.  I'm running on stolen 30-minute naps in the middle of the night while I hold my refluxy baby in a semi-upright position on the sofa, and coffee in the morning.  "Keep moving" I tell myself, "Keep moving, and you'll be ok."

But still, I am tired.

Then, I tell myself to get a grip.  Real mommies, real women, don't act like this.  Get control of yourself, stay vigilant, and keep moving.  I'll eventually get that Sunday afternoon nap that I've been desiring, and I'll be back to my normal self.  Back to the normal fears and concerns of mommy-hood, not the near debilitating phobias that plague my rest-starved brain.

And, I cuddle my little baby, as my big girl watches Veggie Tales.  We'll go do something today.  And I will have my panic moments, but I'll keep moving, with my girls, and always check, double-check, triple-check, to make sure that they are both with me.