It is Personal

On Tuesday of this week, I sat in a cancer center for the day.  It is near the third anniversary of my cancer diagnosis and I am now having annual scans to be sure the cancer doesn't return and if it should, that we catch it before it spreads.  I have written before on my experience in the cancer center.  It is a sacred place.  It is a place where deep sorrow and great hope coincide.  It is a place that unless you've spent time there, you can't really grasp.  While I am a nervous wreck each time I go, I also look forward to going, I could sit and just listen to people share their stories all day and basically I do.

This week was slightly different.  My best friend took me to this appointment so that Howard could keep the wheels turning at home and we headed out once getting kids settled with school or on the bus, I got there, had bloodwork done, had an IV placed and was sent to the basement for radiology (where I would later have to have the darn IV redone, but in the grand scheme I shouldn't complain).  Once in radiology I was separated from my friend and placed in a small room with seven other cancer patients all waiting for scans as well.

Part of the scanning process requires drinking a contrast solution.  It isn't TERRIBLE but it's no margarita.  As I sat there with those seven people we each took turns giving a "cheers" as we received our contrast.  The feeling is one of camaraderie, it isn't a place anyone would choose to be, but there is a solidarity in that room that you won't feel elsewhere.  As we sat and sipped our bottles of yuck, we shared stories.  I sat there in awe of these people.  The resilience, the positivity, the hope was tangible.  A 72 year old man with terminal liver cancer that had spread to his lungs, who by all doctor predictions should've been dead years ago, a 32 year old mom of Muslim faith who was battling stage 3 ovarian cancer, a 54 year old woman on a clinical trial for breast cancer, a 61 year old man battling prostate cancer, a 43 year old man battling stage 4 colon cancer, an 83 year old woman enduring treatment for end stage renal cancer so she could see her first great grandchild be born, and a man who kept to himself and sat quietly in the corner fighting tears.

These are all real people.  Michael, and Adra, and Ethel.  Bob and Ryan and Millie...and the man in the corner, they are parents and spouses and siblings, friends and as we sat there, sharing stories, the news came on.  The fear and sadness in the room was thick as the repeal of the ACA act was being discussed.  Each of these people have a preexisting condition.  Each of these people need expensive medical treatment to live and continue to live.  Each of these people is loved deeply by others.  Each of these people deserve better.

When fighting cancer one should not have to fret about the logistics and financial aspects of their medical care.  They need all of their energy just to show up and fight.  I try not to get political here, as it is never my intention to divide people.  We all need each other and we need opposing views to better each other.  But guys, healthcare shouldn't be a luxury afforded to only the wealthy...it should be a right in America.  All people should get the care they need without going bankrupt or being denied.  These precious people are afraid that changes in healthcare law will ultimately result in their death...this is life and death.  I hope and pray they are wrong, that everything is going to be just fine and that maybe the new president will surprise us all...regardless, I'd challenge any of the politicians of America to spend just a day in a cancer center, listening and truly HEARING people, healthcare reform maybe should start there.

Today a new president takes office.  If you know me, you know he would not in a bajillion years be my choice.  I do not believe he will be a voice for the marginalized, I believe he is a voice for only himself and is a man of no integrity.  I do not believe he has the best interest of the people at heart.  As a mother to girls, to children of different ethnicities, children with special needs, and as a mom with a pre existing condition married to a public school teacher, this is beyond political, it is personal.

 His words and actions thus far give me no hope in his ability.  He is all of the things I pray my children never become, he is in no way a role model I want them to follow, his words have been horrendous, and yet we as a nation write those words off hoping that something shockingly different will be better.  I am a firm believer that words have power and I believe his words have revealed who he is, but I stand today hoping with all I have in me that I am wrong.  I hope he somehow deep deep down has the ability to "Make America Great Again", but friends, this job is too important to leave it up to him.  We have to stand up and speak out.  We have to be unafraid to be a voice for those who need one and to stand up for what is right and just.

We cannot give up now, we have to make our own corners of the world better, world change begins there...be kind to each other but keep fighting the good fight and do not grow weary.  The battle begins now.  It's ok to be sad today, but tomorrow we begin the hard work ahead of us, God is still in control and we have the power to make a difference...let's do it.

Walking/Driving After Midnight

We are all probably pretty familiar with the phenomenon where you hear a song and it is able to transport you back into a moment of the past because the song played at a significant time in your life.  It evokes the same emotions, feelings, moods, vivid memories flood back.  It is much more than just nostalgia, it doesn't necessarily make you yearn for the past, it transports you there.

Twenty nine years ago, my mother ended her life.  A single bullet and it was over in that instant.  She'd suffered with depression and I suspect other mental health struggles for maybe forever.  She had a traumatic childhood herself and despite her best effort she was not able to overcome the demons that continued to haunt her.  She planned her death in great detail.  I was nine, I had no idea what was happening at the time but looking back it takes my breath away.

The events surrounding her death were extremely traumatic for me.  I didn't realize until I was in my thirties just how traumatic they were.  I began seeing a therapist and discovered I was struggling with PTSD.  I had almost no memories of the first decade of my life.  When I turned the age my mother was when she died, memories suddenly began flooding me at inopportune times.  Feelings and traumas I had never dealt with were demanding my attention.  I have continued therapy and worked on dealing with those issues and feelings in addition to taking medication to combat some of the same demons my mother fought for so long.  I am not ashamed.  If nothing else, my mom surely taught me a heartbreaking lesson.  I will continue to get help and fight for my life for as long as I live.

I am in a much healthier place today.  I hold little resentment I once clung to and I am able to see through my own experience, the struggles she faced.  For as long as I remember, I've had a strong connection to Classic Country music, mostly women.  Patsy Cline, Crystal Gayle, Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton all hold a sacred place in my heart.  One memory I have that is a positive one is that my mother was a singer.  She was talented, and she loved to sing.  She would put records on and dance and sing around the house almost daily when she was well...and she would sit and sing and cry when she wasn't.

On our most recent vacation to Myrtle Beach, we drove through the night.  I am by nature a night person.  I enjoy the quiet and stillness of the night and I function best in darkness.  I pulled up my playlist on my iPod.  The rest of the family was sound asleep and I drove through the hills of West Virginia and Virginia while I sang my heart out.  It was maybe the most therapeutic thing I have ever done.  I started with "Walking After Midnight", tears fell down my cheeks as I sang the words, remembering my mom singing that song all of the time.  It transported me back to a moment of her holding my hands and dancing with me in our living room.  Her smile, her long blonde hair, and her chunky cardigan sweater were almost tangible.

My playlist continued, Crazy, Harper Valley PTA, Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue, Islands in the Stream, Jolene, Stand By Your Man, Delta Dawn, I Don't Wanna Play House, I Fall to Pieces, She's Got You, Coal Miner's Daughter, Fist City, and the list goes on.  I've had this playlist on my iPod for as long as I can remember, I guess as long as I've had an iPod.  There are so many moments in my life I yearn for my mom...for her advice, for her help, just for her presence.  It was on that drive well after midnight, as I sang Walking After Midnight along with Patsy that it occurred to me that those records were soothing to my mom's soul, and today, they soothe mine.  I miss her.  Every day I miss her.  I have missed out, she has missed out, my family is missing out...but in a way, she continues to mother me through music.  It might seem silly, but as I listen to those songs, I can hear her voice, in those moments she is with me.  I sure wish I still had those records, but for today, I am grateful for iTunes for bringing my mom back to me in a small way when I really need her.  It is comforting to be transported to those moments, dancing and singing in our living room and let's be honest, most of those songs teach a pretty good motherly lesson and there's something to be said for the sound of a fiddle, a banjo or a steel guitar.  ;)

"I go out walkin' after midnight, out in the moonlight, just like we used to do, I'm always walking' after midnight searchin' for you."

Take Care of One Another

"We must absolutely take care of one another.  It does take a village, but we have to be a village first. We have to take care of each other's children."  - Ruby Bridges

We've been studying a bit in our homeschool studies about activists who have made a difference.  One of the most recent people being Ruby Bridges.  I read this quote and it resonated with me so deeply.  Things in the Bolte house have been good.  Everyone is doing pretty well, we had an amazing Christmas vacation and things have been relatively uneventful.  Nevertheless, I am tired.

I don't just mean I could use a nap kind of tired, though a nap would be nice, it would not come close to alleviating the bone numbing exhaustion I suffer from.  Raising six kids, two who are currently very active in sports, two with some significant special needs, a dramatic seven year old and infant is a lot.  Each day I find myself more overwhelmed and tired than the last.

Raising special needs kids is something I never realized was as intense as it is.  It feels like every day is a battle and many days, I feel like I am losing.  Decisions are made every minute of every day that have to be thought through in their entirety or the consequences can send us in a downward spiral or worse.  I have a child who does not correlate cause and effect, has no respect for boundaries and has no fear, she has to be supervised every single minute of every single day. My kids have to be wearing the right pants, their socks have to be just right, their backpacks packed with the appropriate tools (wiggle seat, sensory soothers, books, etc) to help them be successful for a day in school, and the list goes on.

I wake up in the morning, feed the baby and try to chug a cup of coffee while it is remotely warm, when this fails, I'll later pour the coffee over ice and pretend I intended it to be that way.  I wake Jacob and Lily and get them dressed for the day.  This can go well, but more often than not I've chosen the wrong pants or the wrong socks or we want to wear three dresses at once.  When it comes to wardrobe, if it is weather appropriate, I typically don't fight that battle, I pack backpacks, making sure each kid has what they need to be the most successful on the bus and at school.  I brush hair and teeth and hope the bus comes on time because it is all a delicate balance.

Once they are safely on the bus, I walk back up the driveway where I hear the baby screaming because she cannot see me and I've gone outside in the 10 degree weather without her.  I come in and scoop her up and check emails for the day, I return emails to caseworkers, teachers, therapists, biological parents, grandparents and other service providers.  Most days there is then a doctor appointment or caseworker appointment or therapy appointment to deal with.  I wake the other kids and they get breakfast, (which I am learning to have them do for themselves, clean up, get dressed and brush teeth, they then begin work on their homeschool checklist for the day that I have prepped at an hour no one should see.

We get the schoolwork done, read books, play games, create things, while I juggle a baby, dinner plans, bills, and phone calls from caseworkers, school, therapists, etc.  at 3:30, I realize I have forgotten the second cup of coffee I made and just pour it over ice and suck it down.  The bus comes and two four year olds who have mostly held it together all day come home in tasmanian devil fashion.  They blow through the door and it all falls apart, I spend time trying to decipher their behavior and what it means and how to help them, I lose my patience, I begin again, I finally send everyone to separate areas with a  screen, because I am human.

Howard comes home, we sit down to eat (I won't even try to describe dinner chaos, but imagine feeding a herd of finicky tyrannosaurus rex, it resembles that), Howard kisses me and out the door he goes to coach either Luke or Ben, sometimes both.  I clean up dinner whilst refereeing UFC style four year old brawls, and wrestle them to the tub where I assembly line bathe the three youngest children, lotion them up, brush teeth, read stories, snuggle and tuck them in, clean up the bathroom, sit down, get up, tuck kids back in, repeat.  Oversee showering of older kids, laundry, food prep for the next day, feed the baby, lie down to watch The Daily Show and promptly fall asleep.

I am sure that is not even it and that is just a normal day not a day where the s#it hits the fan.  It is exhausting and overwhelming, and amazing and rewarding.  Not a day goes by that someone doesn't look at me very seriously and say, "I don't know how you do it all" or "I think you are taking on too much" or "you can't save the world".  The thing is...maybe I can't save the world, but I can make the world better for a few, so I will keep just doing that.  Just because I can't do all things for all people doesn't mean I should do nothing.  These days the world praises independence, not having to lean on others, we are missing our village and I am a product of a village of adults who cared enough to invest in me when my own mom was missing.  I might be tired, but I'll keep doing that for as many as I can, because these kids, they are amazing gifts and they have so much to offer the world, they make ME better, and maybe, just maybe the village starts with me.  The tears, exhaustion and sleepless nights are more than worth it.  We have to stop viewing kids as other people's children and a burden.  They're all our children and our future.  Let's stop blaming and shaming and making parents feel they aren't doing enough, lets take care of each other and each other's children. Parenting is hard. Extend grace. Lend a hand. Be the village.  World change is going to start there.