Dear Mom,

My birthday has come and gone AND New Year's Eve has almost come and gone. Also, Tim's mom and her husband came to celebrate Christmas... and they are also almost gone.

This was not my favorite year. And this holiday season was definitely not my favorite. Having guests for a week when I would rather not was supremely challenging. I have to admit that I failed at being friendly and charming at most junctures. But I just didn't have it in me.

I don't think it is possible for Tim to understand how sad I am. He is not that way. And he seems so fragile himself that most things upset him in one way or another... So, I feel alone with this sadness most of the time.

My pregnancy is going well. But I am tired. However, I cannot tell if I should attribute this more to the fact that I have not made time for daily walks (which I know would lift my spirits and heart) or that I have less time to myself because this time around J is here.

Parenting has me stumped. J's buddy, whom he LOVES to play with, has inspired some behavior that is less than favorable. Well, I'm not really sure if the friend is the inspiration or just the ignition point. I have the sense that a lot of what is going on is normal but I feel as though J might need a situation where he excels on his own... without this other kiddo around to steal his thunder. And some of it also, I fear, is me. I do not know how to instill/foster the confidence in J that I think would help him to use his imagination more and encourage him to make friends without hesitation. I know that there is something that I could do but the responsibility is oppressive right now while I am struggling with this grief.

(sigh)

I love you mom. I really miss you.

Love,

Nicole

Dear Mom,

It's Christmas. And I'm missing you. And feeling generally unexcited... and wishing that today would end. Which it will... so I have that going for me.

I love you.

Nicole

Dear Mom,

This morning Tim took Jackson to school. 

So, far I have signed and dated and placed in an envelope ready-to-mail the listing agreement for the house AND called the tax guy with my social and address so we can get a tax ID for the trust.

I hate doing this stuff. It makes me sad.

Also, this morning, I have been thinking about Christmas. Do you remember that top I made to wear with those Christmas plaid pants that I LOVED? And that buffalo plaid full circle skirt that I should have worn with a cute top to show off the nipped waistline but instead wore with a slouchy red sweater because it was 1984 and I was all about slouchy. I guess I have never really given up on the slouchy look, did I? 

I used to sit in the middle of the living room floor with my sewing machine and sew while I watched TV. Sitting on the floor is still my preferred position while making things but I can get a little uncomfortable these days with my baby belly. I suppose I should be more aware of sitting up straight as well but I just feel so comfortable sitting on the floor with all of my stuff spread out around me.

Sewing is also something I miss. Designing my own "patterns" and making such oddly unflattering clothing was so fun for me. I think, though, that my tendency toward geometric forms might have suited a less angular girl than myself but I still liked everything I made.

I have been thinking about you a lot... but not crying as much. Which is good and bad, I guess. Crying is such the full face pass-time and leaves me with such red eyes but I feel sort of better afterward. I think. Actually, I'm not sure how to name what I feel after crying but I don't consider it wholly negative. 

I miss you, mom. It's so easy to imagine you sitting in the blue velvet chair right now... with your cozy sweater on... and your two hats because it is so cold here... reading your Palm or talking to J... it's so easy to remember you and that's better than crying... but sometimes a lot more painful.

Love,

Nicole

 

Dear Mom,

I'm watching a movie that you and I had planned to see together.

And it makes me sad that you are not here so I could watch it with you now.

I miss you everyday mom. 

Love,

Nicole

Chat Chat

I don't believe in future telling.

No one can be certain what will happen next and that is difficult to accept but it's true.

Dear Mom,

Yesterday, I finally saw the doctor.

I am 11.5 weeks along in the pregnancy and the ultrasound pictured the baby really looking like a baby instead of a blob... like the first ultrasound with Jackson. I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise since it took so long to get my ass to the doctor's office.

Mom, I really wanted to call you after my appointment. I was so excited. I am so excited. After everything I really have a sense of being pregnant... aside from morning sickness and fatigue. 

Love,

Nicole

Dear Mom,

Things are difficult now that you are gone.

I miss you so much and I want to call you and talk about all of it but I can't.

Dad isn't speaking to me anymore, neither is Heather... and Brendon gets so irritated each time I try to tell him something about the house or money or anything that it's almost like I'm talking to dad... Which hurts just as much.

I miss you mom and I wish you were here with me... at our house... sitting next to me on the couch... being alive and willing to listen and willing to talk with me.

I love you...

Nicole

Dear Mom,

What should I do?

Your heart is failing.

They want to intubate... again. Because you are laboring to breathe. 

I know you hate having to be fed by a tube because the nurses have had to restrain you after several attempts and successes to pull out your tubes...

Dear Mom,

Of course, I wasn't surprised when Jackson requested that we head into the costume shop on Haight Street to see what they had to see. 

It's so close to Halloween... I wish I could call you and tell you how J wanted to buy a sword but settled on a fake mustache instead. He looked like a little Keystone Cop... or Tom Selleck. The photo I took is incredibly funny/adorable. 

My immediate instinct was to send the photo to you via cell phone... but I cannot do that either.

I love you mom and I wish you could be home... talking... walking... answering your phone and smiling while I tell you all about your grandson. Who misses you too.

Love,

Nicole

Good Things vs Bad

1. My mother is home from the hospital... for two weeks! Hooray. 

But her blood counts are rising slowly instead of rapidly which could be a cause for concern... however, I am not ready to be concerned.

2. I feel as though I should be worried about the plummeting stock market but I have felt that it would fall for so long that I am nothing more than informed now that it has happened. Things balance themselves out, don't they? Especially when greed and stock markets are concerned. I remember the 80's.

3. We are pregnant and I am elated... and also preoccupied with the fact that this is something that I wanted and now here it is and, hmmm, isn't something terrible supposed to happen now? What is the genesis of that sensibility?

When I became pregnant before it was not the ideal moment in time: I was unemployed, I was depressed about my unemployment, I was living with my boyfriend and concerned that my lack of job would jeopardize our relationship. But the moment I found out I resigned myself to accept the ride ahead of me and approach it without fear.

Today, I considered that this might not be the ideal moment in world or family history to have another child. But maybe it is. Just like before, I intend to accept the road ahead of me and will approach it without fear because these seem to be the only actions that I can actually take... and I like to stay busy.

Tunnel Vision

My mom is not in remission... well there is not clear evidence that she is in remission., yet... but she has been in the hospital since August enduring everything that can be done to get her there. 

And my cousin called tonight to talk to me about it... which I really do not do that often... because discussing my mom is so complicated for me. Thankfully, talking to my cousin allowed me to reach out and respond and admit that I don't know how to feel about my mom right now... and, in the past, that sort of uncertainty has made me so uncomfortable that even my own skin seemed unfamiliar.

I have spent most of this year thinking and thinking and thinking about my mom... and mortality... and loss... and regret... and how I will feel about something that is happening but that hasn't even happened yet. It has driven me to extreme distraction. But I have come away with something that, for me, is the hardest thing to accept but also the most liberating: I cannot do anything about my mother's health.

And so I do not really bring it up. 

But somehow I have come to feel comfortable living day to day without planning ahead... 

I Had A Bad Day, What A Day I Have Had

Because I could not share the details of my day with any one who I actually know who might have actually cared how much it sucked... I told another mother... a stranger... in the park... while our kids attempted to "share" a plastic ark with wheels. 

She probably wished that I would shut the fuck up, already. But I felt slightly better. Sorry lady. I'll get you next time.

That is the kind of person I am: someone who needs to "talk about it."

So sue me.

Ending the Beginning/Beginning Again

My three and almost-a-half year old baby starts pre-school tomorrow.

(Oh Little Bee, I hope you will grow to realize how fantastic you are and always remember how much you are loved...)

If three and almost-a-half year olds needed it, I'd wish good luck.

Also

My Aunt called this morning to tell me that she had complained to the Charge Nurse who looks after my mom's care... just in case I might hear anything about it in the future. Actually, though, she told me because she needed some support. Just as my brothers and I do. And every other sibling that my mother has... I think... I have yet to hear a word from her brother. Certainly, though, he is as concerned, distraught and frustrated as the rest of us.

I'd like to image that every humiliating scenario that a hospital patient might endure would never be experienced by my mother... my mom. Too weak to get out of bed or even sit up in it without having to call and then wait for assistance... Too feverish to be able to feed herself or wipe away the food that might have escaped the spoon and left it's mark anywhere on her face... Too slow to make it to the bathroom after the chemo has rendered the muscles of her bowels lazy and fatigued and useless. 

To sick to visit with her grandson and talk about trucks and trains and his three good friends; Bee, Monster and Dinosaur... who happens to be a T. Rex and enjoys eating noodles.

What's Really Going On

My mother is in the hospital.

Unlike the last time she was enduring in-patient chemotherapy I am not at leisure to fly back and forth from San Francisco to Long Beach/LA. This is difficult because I cannot stand to think of her as being lonely or scared or disoriented or uncomfortable... and I want to be with her so I can at least bear some of the burden that I imagine to be unbearable. 

One significant thing about loving someone with cancer is that the ability to imagine that someone being around forever erodes just as their health does. Hopefully there is a remission. And with it a reprieve from the heartache that accompanies watching someone suffer... A recess from the constant considering that that someone might have only this borrowed sort of life left ahead. 

This is what is tearing me apart, the thought that my mother might never again experience a life without discomfort... or hair loss... or exhaustion... or pain... or hospitals.  And if I could I would guarantee her that her final years, whenever they may be, would be filled with comfort and laughter and love... and experienced in her own home.

If I cannot have a mother who will live forever then, at least, I want her to live in peace. 

Everyday Nostalgia

Because I was once wielded girlish glee.

Even though I cannot wear those red velvet Mary Janes with hard soles that fulfilled my every day desire to tap dance I can wear a skirt that extends and floats around my body in a full circle while I spin... until dizzy... or my son comes into the room to join me.

Jerry Matta Never Missed a Chance to Express How Much He Hated Polka Dots

My mother purchased this skirt for me.

Though it hits me just below the knee, rendering it fairly unflattering in terms of length, I still find it utterly charming. Also, it is made of the most unfortunate cotton ever to brush up against my legs. However, had it been fashioned out of anything less "stiff" the precise kick pleat in the front would be nothing but a fond memory moments after stepping out the front door.

What cannot be denied is this skirt's cheerful color combination; red and aqua polka dots floating on a sea of indigo. Whenever I catch a glimpse of it I want to smile. I am quite fond of the a-line shape as well. Certainly, though, it is the colors of this skirt that make it so wonderful.

That this piece of clothing reminds me of my mother is truly what reserves its place in my closet. She would never be able to wear this... but she also loved it when she saw it. It connects the two of us in a way that I wish I were able to actually explain instead of just feel. This skirt makes that connection tangible… which is comforting.