Thrown for a Loop

August 23, 2011

Yesterday Coach received a text which he showed me right after dinner. It was from our neighbor informing us that my OB just died. On the surface, it is sad that she passed and I will miss her. But just under the surface, I grieve. Not only for the loss of her life but also because of the loss of one of the only people in the world who knows about Norah and my entire medical history. This was a lady that I didn’t have to be careful around. If she were in a different profession and not familiar with my parts down south, then we probably would have been friends. I am saddened for her friends and family. She delivered 4 of my children, and she showed us compassion when she told me that Norah had died and subsequently delivered her. I feel unsettled. There is one less person in the world who held Norah and could verify her existence.



June 25, 2011

I am afraid to do a search on my own posts which deal with frustration. I think maybe 50% or more of my writing on this blog deal with me venting about a particular subject or aspect of my life. I love my life but sometimes I get stuck in a rut. I’m in one right now. My job requires me to produce writing — original, scientific writing. Just putting words on paper is extremely difficult. When I read my “To Do” list, I start to feel overwhelmed. I know how to deal with it — I braek it down into small manageable tasks. However, I get thrown off when my personal life starts to feel overwhelming. It is summer, and yes, as a professor I work through the summer. I taught one class and have research grants that require me to  fulfill my obligations throughout the summer. I don’t have time to write during the school year. Everyday this week, there has been some small emergency that I have had to leave work for to attend to — someone has lost something, a child is hurt, I have forgotten something at home, the day’s plan changes because of my husband’s work, and/or the day’s plan changes because of the kids nap schedule changes. I really do try to be a flexible as I can but I need to learn to take advantage of small bits of time. Maybe a better plan for me, instead of large looming projects, is to take home small projects (1 hour or less) that I can work on at night or anytime I can squeeze an hour into our hectic day. I was exercising regularly but everyday this week, my plan has been thwarted by these small plan deviations.

Where is the guidebook for how to negotiate all of these stressors? It is summer; I want to spend time with my children. How long have I had that paper to do revisions on it? When is that student supposed to graduate and why is it that his/her graduation hangs on my ability to read and provide feedback? Why did I agree to review that paper? How do I get that colleague to work on that paper (guild doesn’t work, tried it)? What is that student up to on the thesis and why haven’t I heard from him/her? All day and all night, these work questions are pumping through my head. This doesn’t include all of the family/kid unknowns. I think I need a vacation.


Right where I am Project: 3 years, 7 months, exactly

June 19, 2011

I am at a frantic time in my year. I made it through the semester: I go out into the field; I have dealines for grants and papers. I’ve been gone — physically and mentally. Last night I started reading some blogs again for the first time in many months and got wind of the “Right where I am Project” from Angie at StillLife365. I searched for the ladies that I knew and read their posts and then I was sent into a spiral of memories and self-analysis. How do I feel 3 years and 7 months after Norah died? Where am I right now?

My daughter Norah Clare died on November 18, 2007.  I was devastated; my children were confused and sad; my husband was lost. We did what we had to do to get through the first couple of months. At first, we were on the same grief page. He pulled it back together quicker than me. I grieved for a very long time. I had another baby, almost one year after Norah a died, a girl, my rainbow. She did bring happiness to me and my family; she did help us heal. I still grieved. Two and a half years after Norah died, I had another baby, a boy, my sunshine. We all healed some more. Our two little ones are so loved by the family, we know what the alternative is. I much prefer getting up 12 times a night and breastfeeding nonstop to buying a casket and burying my baby.

The conversations about Norah continue…

Oldest daughter (8): “I miss Norah.”

Me: “I do too.”

Oldest daughter: “Why did she have to die?”

Me: “I don’t know. Her heart stopped beating and her lungs stopped working. That situation is not compatible with life.”

Oldest Daughter: “Did it hurt to die?”

Me: “I don’t really know because I have never died. However, I suspect that it is easy and it doesn’t hurt to die. I suspect that it is peaceful.”

Oldest Daughter: “Where is Norah now?”

Me: “Norah is all around us. She is the wind, the trees, the air. She is the sunshine that warms our faces. She is the breeze that strokes our skin.”

Our family continues to heal but one is always missing. Always, she is the space at the dinner table, the space beside of me walking in the store, the space at the end of the sentence. If she were here, we would be…..

Where am I? Sometimes I am lost; sometimes I am here. My life moves onward. I am usually engaged but can fall into periods of melacholy. I am living.



April 30, 2011

A huge tornado tore through my town last Wednesday in “Dixie Alley”. We had days notice that a very strong front would be coming through and that the conditions would be right for a tornado outbreak. In my office, I was working on one screen with the weather channel on the other screen. About 3:00 pm, I noticed a particularly gnarly cell in Mississippi that looked like it would be heading our way. About 3:30, I called Coach to confer. The issue at hand is whether to load up the van and make the 7 mile trek to campus where we all could be safe together. We ended this conversation with “lets watch it”. About 3:45 pm I called back and asked him to load up the kids. I had been watching the cell and looked really significant. The person on the local weather channel talked about how all the conditions were right and I got a feeling. Coach packed up the van with kids and a firesafe box of important papers. He arrived about 4:15 pm. The two older kids each brought a bag filled with stuffed animals, their banks, and important trinkets. I brought them to my office and we watched the storm brew. About 4:30 pm, we called it. It was time to go down to the basement. The basement has no windows, is underground and is a designated storm shelter. It is the safest place in the whole city. I have lived here for 7 years and this is probably the 5th time that we decided to shelter in the “bunker”. We joined my colleagues and their family, our students and some of their families, and some attached people from the community who had learned this was a good place. There were probably 100 people in 2 rooms. The rooms are classrooms but we were packed in there. It was a party atmosphere. Most of us had been through this countless times before. Some brought beer, food, and games for entertainment. In the city center, a webcam was pointed southwest trained on the supercell and we streamed the video into the classroom on the wireless on personal computers. I wandered around with a baby or toddler on my hip chatting with colleagues and students. My kids were writing on the chalkboard and on the white board. About 4:50 pm, I was watching on a laptop and I saw a horrifying event. The wallcloud on the supercell dropped its funnel. The entire room gasped. A tornado was on the ground. We were in the direct projected path. I did not feel fear at that point. I knew that we would be safe. Even if the building blew down around us and they had to dig us out, we would be safe. We watched the tornado swirl debris and we saw explosions as transformers blew. Then, the webcam lost its picture. The tornado passed close enough to wipe out the camera. We were in the path. I told my husband that if we took a direct hit that he needs to get 2 kids and I would take 2 kids and we needed to duck under a table because the ceiling tiles were going to come down. Minutes passed. Two of my kids were playing the iPad. Jeff had Sunshine and I had Rainbow. She was watching a Cars video with another little boy. I told the two playing iPad that when the electricity went out that they did not need to be scared because the iPad sheds light. They answered “We know Mom”. Minutes passed. The electricity went out including the wireless-we were blind. How close was it? Did it pass? Did it hit the building? Is there another wave coming?

Students are sometimes not smart. Soon one came back with a cell phone image of the tornado as he looked out the back of our building. It was passed. We did not get hit directly. But many people did. We knew because we saw the wrath of the tornado that many lives would be lost. Rumors flew through the rooms, “It hit the hospital!” “the mall is obliterated!”. I assured my daughter that they were rumors and that we did not know where the tornado went. Those of us with families with us remained in the bunker for 45 more minutes. We finally were able to hook up a computer “old style” to the internet and saw that we were in the clear, no more storms. At 6:15 pm. My family walked out of the basement and drove home to a house that was still standing. Many were not so lucky.

In the bunker we were 3 blocks south of the tornado. My home is 7 miles north of the tornado path. But in the early hours, we were without cell phone service, without internet, and without television. Radio was our only source of communication. When we learned the path of the tornado, I was horrified. It hit many communities populated by students and by faculty. It also hit some very economically disadvantages areas. That night there was nothing for us to do but put the kids to bed and be thankful for being alive.

On Thursday, Coach went downtown to help people. He started with my colleagues with trees and debris on their houses. He continues to volunteer everyday to help move debris. Only on Saturday did the internet and cable return so that I could see the path of the tornado. The hospital was very close to the tornado but thankfully, only some windows were blown out. Most of the mall remains also.  For 3 days, I’ve been with the kids and I recognize how odd it is. My life continues while our neighbors lives are rocked or even worse, the person is dead. My kids have been running around outside and having a great time, and just miles away, there are those grieving for what they lost.

No one in our department died. Some have lost possessions but no one lost all of their house. I am grateful and thankful. Many were not so lucky.


I contain multitudes….

April 22, 2011

“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.” ~Walt Whitman

I was reading a blog tonight and was reminded of this quote. I would love to link but I don’t know how….Search “Enjoying the Small Things”

Anyway, this is one of my all time favorite quotes from Walt Whitman. Sometimes I forget. I forget that “in this blade of grass” that I am everything and everything is in me. An atom that you breathe, I also breathe. I have a multitude within me, including you, including Norah, including all the people that were once here but are now gone. Everyday, I get focused on work, the next thing I have to complete, the next thing I have to do for the kids, meeting their needs, meeting all needs of everyone who needs me – my husband, my kids, my friends, my students – everyone. Except sometimes, I forget to meet my own needs.

But I contain multitudes. I am a professor. I am a friend. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a faculty member. I am a geologist. I am a sister. I have many titles. I enjoy many things. I’m pretty happy contridicting myself…



April 8, 2011

My son is 6 years old and his older sister is 8 years old. Tonight they were playing on the see-saw in our backyard. They were doing what children normally do on a see-saw–seeing who weighs more, pushing up on the see-saw to jiggle the other one, jumping off so the other one goes crashing to the ground. I was pushing the younger two in the swings.

Older Daughter to Older Son: Sometimes you are my best friend and sometimes you are an annoying brother. Right now, your my best friend.

Older son smiles brightly and they continued playing.

I was sitting in the grass pushing the younger two. Her comment made my heart swell because I saw how much she meant it and I saw how much it meant to her brother. Coach and I always hoped that they would be best friends growing up. That is why we had them 22 months apart. I hope that the younger two, who are 17 months apart, are best friends also. Rainbow learned how to sit in a regular swing this week. She is enjoying laying over the swing on her tummy also and running her feet along the ground. Sunshine is happy just to swing beside of her in a baby swing and try to grab her and her swing.



April 4, 2011

As a bonus to my Spring Grief season, I am also experiencing a lethargy and lack of energy that feels unrelenting. I can and did get out of bed this morning but only because I have to. I have to teach class because that is how our family is supported. I am exhausted so in order to function a drank a bunch of caffeine. I tried to exercise yesterday. Well, I did exercise. I had in my mind a goal that I wanted to reach but about 2/3 of the way through, I felt too tired to continue. I felt as if I could not lift my feet and continue. I hate to feel this way because I know it is a cycle. I know that after I adjust to the season, I’ll feel better. I know that if I force myself to exercise everyday that I will feel better. While I wait, my productivity at home and at work decreases. After I conquer the hump, I will have to work harder to catch up. You know what is even more of a bonus…

Taxes are due soon and we have not started.