How I wish I was talking about cocktails...
My last post is almost embarrassing considering how far I've gone from any positive feeling in my core in a very short time.
Having two young babies so close together is very hard on a marriage. Having your husband's father die is also very hard on a marriage.
We've been distant. Bitter. Sad. Angry. Distraught. Frustrated.
Or at least I have been. I am only guessing that Steve has been too. I wouldn't be able to say for sure because he does NOT talk about things. Not about anything. It's hard for me. Particularly hard since I am in my house with two kids 2 and under for most of the day. My only means for transportation is usually a stroller. When it rains - which it does a lot here on the West Coast in winter/spring - I am literally trapped here inside my four walls.
I get lonely. I crave support, love, discussions, kind words, emotional progress. But when Steve gets home from work he's not able to provide much of any of those things.
I have felt that he's been harboring resentful or angry feelings towards me. There has not been a kind word offered. There is no touching. No kiss on the cheek. No hugs. Communication only when absolutely required. And even then, it's been cold.
I have been figuratively banging my head against the wall. Not sure what to do. I've tried everything to get him to give it up. Talk. Tell me what I've done wrong. Tell me what's bugging him. He was maintaining that everything is "fine". When asked if he'd go to marriage counseling his response was "absolutely not" - even though he has been seeing a grief counselor to process his dad's death.
Hopefully I'm not sounding too martyr-ish when I say I have given my everything, my all, all my energy and then some, all my emotions, all my goodness - my EVERYTHING to try to be supportive to him and his family, to be a good mother, to be a kind and loving wife - during a really bad time.
However I've been feeling like, to him, I am not worth an effort on his part. I have felt taken for granted.
The other day an email exchange started between myself and my BIL's girlfriend (SIL) as we planned out our MIL's birthday dinner that was to take place this Saturday. Well, as we started going back and forth with our emails, things started to come out. We started talking about the things that have been bothering us. Things that MIL has been doing that have been making our lives very difficult. How our spouses are completely absorbed by her and her grief and how they dote on her and her occasional dramarama. My BIL is the executor to the will and he had told SIL about some financial issues which she was supposed to keep silent about. She confided in me in those emails. Honestly it felt good to have someone to talk to. Someone who understands what I'm going through, who is going through something very similar to me and who knows all the players in the game. Someone to relate to. Someone who was willing to offer a sympathetic ear.
Sometime in the afternoon my phone rang. It was SIL. She said, "Steve's been reading your emails".
In typical Steve fashion - instead of calling me and discussing it, he called his brother. Told him what we were talking about, essentially ruining two relationships instead of just one.
Steve feels that SIL and I are vindictive, evil women who hate his mother.
I have explained that I do not hate his mom. Not even close. In fact I don't like some of the things she does. And I said nothing in my emails that I haven't already said to him.
He told me he's been watching me for a while. Reading my emails and my tweets. He says he knows I talk about him "behind his back". He told me he didn't love me anymore and has been thinking of leaving me for a while.
I explained that what I occasionally say about him on twitter is my way of communicating - in a joking fashion - to like minded friends who can relate to me. Everything I tweet is out in the open and I would never say anything malicious abut him. But he felt otherwise.
Likewise with my email exchange with my SIL.
Besides having to explain and defend myself, I am furious and upset and devastated that my husband has betrayed me and violated my personal life. My personal conversations. My privacy. I am broken hearted that we are in that place.
Obviously there was a lot more detail than this but I care not to get into it.
My BIL and SIL are pretty much done. This was the straw the broke the camels back for them. Why Steve had to involve my BIL I don't know but it was a bad move. My SIL is/was really, really mad at Steve. He apologized to her and she did not accept his apology - which made things worse for me because I know it bothered him but... of course... he wouldn't talk about it. And also, she is my friend and I feel somewhat responsible for what's happening to her on her end of this mess.
To make a really long story a little less long - I had a really big breakdown. Reiterating all the stuff I've been saying to him over the past few months.
He told me he'd make an effort to be a better husband. That he was going to make big changes.
The next day he got off work early. I had errands to run (since I offered to take a birthday lunch/cake to MIL the next day since her dinner at BIL and SIL's was cancelled) I managed to talk to SIL and we decided to meet for a beer with another girlfriend. Steve said it was no problem. I brought him a 6 pack of beer before I met the girls and told him I'd bring dinner home. I was out for a couple of hours. I sent him a text asking if he was doing ok with the the kids. He didn't respond. I called him. He didn't answer the phone.
When I was on my way home he finally answered. He was short with me. I asked what he would like for dinner and he said he already ate - even though it was just dinner time.
When I got home he was back in that bitter, quiet mode. He'd obviously had a hard time with the kids. I know he was frustrated. *I* know what that is like - it is my daily life. He was in a bad mood and quickly so was I. We started to argue again. It escalated. Really escalated. It got ugly. I pushed him to the limit. I knew I was doing it but couldn't stop myself. I wanted him to react to me in some way. I couldn't take the passive aggressiveness anymore. I was so desperate I was willing to take the aggressiveness without the passiveness.
He lost it. I lost it. His eyes were dilated and he was in such a crazed state that I've never seen before. I was scared and mad and sad and very hysterical. Our yelling woke Lincoln from his sleep. Ruby... my precious, intelligent Ruby saw and heard everything. For that, I will NEVER forgive myself. I even have a difficult time typing it out. I HATE MYSELF when I think about her big blue eyes staring at me laying on the floor bawling. HATE. MYSELF.
HATE.
Steve ended up leaving. Saying he wouldn't be back for two weeks and I would be hearing from a lawyer. He returned a short time later when he had called his mom and she wouldn't come pick him up...
In a panic I called my SIL who came over and took Steve downstairs and had a really big talk with him while I cuddled Ruby in bed.
Eventually things calmed down and SIL left.
Steve and I slept in the same bed, with Ruby in the middle. I layed my head on his chest and sobbed. (Ruby was deeply sleeping by then).
Now... now... Steve has once again said he is going to try to be a better husband. And I'll admit today has seen an improvement. But there is some heavy underlying tension. I am afraid to be anything less than smiling and happy even though my heart aches so badly.
We have been torn apart and we need to rebuild. I just hope we have the ability to do it without ruining ourselves. I know that my kids may see us argue again but they will NEVER again see anything so obnoxious as Friday night's events. I grew up seeing that over and over and over. That was my childhood. It's not theirs. It will never be theirs. I promise.
Steve's dad's death has done more damage than I thought it would. And my efforts to help and nurture and care for Steve have been sadly, futile. I cared for him the way I would have wanted to be cared for in such a situation. I've never been through a family member's death before and I did what I thought was best.
I desperately want to have a happy life, a happy marriage. I deserve it. I deserve better that what I've been given recently. I can only do so much, be so much, give so much of myself. It will take me a very long time to heal from this. I don't really know how or where to begin. I am just trying to take small steps forward in whatever way feels the most right.
Note: I do not know if Steve reads this blog or not but I have written this assuming he will read it and I have been completely open and honest and fair and regret nothing I have said here.
Ok, here goes... publish post.
Showing posts with label Cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cancer. Show all posts
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Lately, in random form
I had one more little brush with my FIL in the days after his death. A couple days after he passed I had been having a challenging morning. I was standing at the stove, ready to steam an egg in the frying pan, I sprayed the pan with cooking spray and added just enough water to cover the bottom and turned the burner on. When the water heated it separated and formed a heart in the middle of the pan. I suddenly had a strong feeling that he was responsible for it and that he was sending me some love and encouragement. I started to cry but felt better knowing that he was there for me. Since then, the "signs" have subsided.
Death is a strange thing when you're expecting it. It seems that when we lose a loved one unexpectedly, we are hit with all the grief and struggling to deal with it all after the death. But when we lose a loved one when we are expecting it - like we just did - it seems that much of the grief is doled out in a sporadic torrent in the time leading up to the death. Waiting for someone to die is horrible. The anxiety of it, the anticipation, the overwhelming sadness of watching someone deteriorate and imagining/dreading what life is going to be like without them. Then when they do pass, there is almost a relief (accompanied by guilt) that the worst is over. But the feelings of loss and sadness and that aching place in our hearts remain.
Steve and I are struggling in our relationship. Or maybe I should say that I am struggling, Steve seems to think everything is ok. I feel lonely. I feel unloved, unsupported, unimportant. I realize Steve just lost his father and he's grieving but I am still his wife and I need some love too. There are no kisses on the cheek, no hugs, no cuddles, no encouraging words, no thank-yous. Yesterday I had a shitty day and was feeling blue and I mentioned it to him and his response was a snarly, "Why!?" He was clearly annoyed that I showed a crack in my Stepfordness. Steve is a wonderful father and loves his kids so much and for that I am ever thankful. But he could step it up in the husband department. He doesn't seem to think I need it - despite numerous discussions/arguments in which I tell him how I feel and he ignores me by watching sports on TV or pretends to be sleeping. I've suggested/begged that we go for some marriage counselling and he flat out refuses - even though he is seeing a counselor about losing his dad. One more thing that makes me feel like I'm not important enough to him. My only hope now is that I get some counseling on my own - if only I could afford it. (Steve's is covered by his company). Most of the time I just block out my feelings and keep on doing my thing - because it's easier to just accept my fate than to try to fix it sometimes. But sometimes it just really feels bad.
In happier news, I've lost 11lbs. I joined Weight Watchers back in January and it's been working out really well for me. I hope to be able to keep going and get to a place where I'm happy and comfortable with my body. It has been really hard with having 3 other people who usually get put before me, but I've managed to stick to it. I am determined.
Steve's 40th birthday is this Friday. I've planned all kinds of things. I arranged to have someone come over on Friday and watch the kids so he and I can go out for dinner. I arranged a surprise lunch/beers at the pub the following day with all his friends. And I bought him a trip for two to go to Calgary, stay in a fancy hotel (cashed in my airmiles), and great tickets to go see the Canucks (our hockey team) play. My mom and dad are looking after the kids for the weekend. I hope he enjoys it and appreciates all that went into it. I am looking forward to a weekend away.
UPDATE:
Just got a call from my MIL. She tells me that her and my BIL put some money together to buy a travel voucher for the friends who helped nurse my FIL during his illness. They are both retired nurses and they never left his bedside during the last week and they were simply amazing. I knew that they were going to buy them a travel voucher to thankt hem and I had asked if we could contribute to it. So MIL just called to tell me that the voucher was purchased and they were putting all our names on it. I told her that we would have liked to contribute and she laughed at me. No, we can't afford it but we could have found some money for it. It would have meant a lot to me to contribute. I feel embarrassed and sad that they left us out - even though our names are on it.
She also told me that the funeral home called and told her that FIL's ashes are ready to be picked up. I knew she would have a hard time with that so I offered for Steve and I go collect them. She told me that she hoped I wasn't offended but that she wanted his ashes spread on his birthday and she only wanted it to be her and Steve and my BIL and that they would pick up the ashes that day. I told her I'm not offended and she should do what makes her happy. But since I can be honest here, I'll tell you that I'm sad and yes, a little hurt. I loved him too and I did all that I could during his illness to help everyone and be as positive and loving and caring as I could. I feel sad that they don't want me there for his final goodbye. I will be ok, I will get over it. It just adds to the hurt that I'm already carrying right now.
Death is a strange thing when you're expecting it. It seems that when we lose a loved one unexpectedly, we are hit with all the grief and struggling to deal with it all after the death. But when we lose a loved one when we are expecting it - like we just did - it seems that much of the grief is doled out in a sporadic torrent in the time leading up to the death. Waiting for someone to die is horrible. The anxiety of it, the anticipation, the overwhelming sadness of watching someone deteriorate and imagining/dreading what life is going to be like without them. Then when they do pass, there is almost a relief (accompanied by guilt) that the worst is over. But the feelings of loss and sadness and that aching place in our hearts remain.
Steve and I are struggling in our relationship. Or maybe I should say that I am struggling, Steve seems to think everything is ok. I feel lonely. I feel unloved, unsupported, unimportant. I realize Steve just lost his father and he's grieving but I am still his wife and I need some love too. There are no kisses on the cheek, no hugs, no cuddles, no encouraging words, no thank-yous. Yesterday I had a shitty day and was feeling blue and I mentioned it to him and his response was a snarly, "Why!?" He was clearly annoyed that I showed a crack in my Stepfordness. Steve is a wonderful father and loves his kids so much and for that I am ever thankful. But he could step it up in the husband department. He doesn't seem to think I need it - despite numerous discussions/arguments in which I tell him how I feel and he ignores me by watching sports on TV or pretends to be sleeping. I've suggested/begged that we go for some marriage counselling and he flat out refuses - even though he is seeing a counselor about losing his dad. One more thing that makes me feel like I'm not important enough to him. My only hope now is that I get some counseling on my own - if only I could afford it. (Steve's is covered by his company). Most of the time I just block out my feelings and keep on doing my thing - because it's easier to just accept my fate than to try to fix it sometimes. But sometimes it just really feels bad.
In happier news, I've lost 11lbs. I joined Weight Watchers back in January and it's been working out really well for me. I hope to be able to keep going and get to a place where I'm happy and comfortable with my body. It has been really hard with having 3 other people who usually get put before me, but I've managed to stick to it. I am determined.
Steve's 40th birthday is this Friday. I've planned all kinds of things. I arranged to have someone come over on Friday and watch the kids so he and I can go out for dinner. I arranged a surprise lunch/beers at the pub the following day with all his friends. And I bought him a trip for two to go to Calgary, stay in a fancy hotel (cashed in my airmiles), and great tickets to go see the Canucks (our hockey team) play. My mom and dad are looking after the kids for the weekend. I hope he enjoys it and appreciates all that went into it. I am looking forward to a weekend away.
UPDATE:
Just got a call from my MIL. She tells me that her and my BIL put some money together to buy a travel voucher for the friends who helped nurse my FIL during his illness. They are both retired nurses and they never left his bedside during the last week and they were simply amazing. I knew that they were going to buy them a travel voucher to thankt hem and I had asked if we could contribute to it. So MIL just called to tell me that the voucher was purchased and they were putting all our names on it. I told her that we would have liked to contribute and she laughed at me. No, we can't afford it but we could have found some money for it. It would have meant a lot to me to contribute. I feel embarrassed and sad that they left us out - even though our names are on it.
She also told me that the funeral home called and told her that FIL's ashes are ready to be picked up. I knew she would have a hard time with that so I offered for Steve and I go collect them. She told me that she hoped I wasn't offended but that she wanted his ashes spread on his birthday and she only wanted it to be her and Steve and my BIL and that they would pick up the ashes that day. I told her I'm not offended and she should do what makes her happy. But since I can be honest here, I'll tell you that I'm sad and yes, a little hurt. I loved him too and I did all that I could during his illness to help everyone and be as positive and loving and caring as I could. I feel sad that they don't want me there for his final goodbye. I will be ok, I will get over it. It just adds to the hurt that I'm already carrying right now.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Passing
My father-in-law went into a hospice last Thursday. Sunday he became unresponsive. We spent the past week at his side. At one point I had time alone with him and I talked to him and told him everything I wanted to say (including the score of the Canucks game that was on that day because he would have wanted to know). I recorded Lincoln blabbering and gurgling and squealing and Ruby saying "Hi Grandpa Stan. I love you Grandpa Stan". When I played it for him he responded to it and turned his head towards my phone and tried to talk and reach. It was bitter sweet and heart wrenching.
He passed away on Thursday morning at 7am with his best friend at his side. I am glad he wasn't alone.
That morning at exactly 7am, Lincoln started crying. He had been awake for 20 minutes already and had been happily playing with his toys on the floor. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
The hospice placed a butterfly on his door as they use the butterfly to symbolize a person's natural transformation from life to death.
The next day after I got home with the kids, I put Ruby down for her afternoon nap. Oddly she was up within 10 minutes knocking on her side of her bedroom door. When I opened the door - she had a butterfly in her hand and held it up to me. It was a beautiful handmade butterfly that she got when she was born. It has been hanging on the back of her doorknob and this was the first time she's ever taken it off.
Steve was given his dad's watch the day he died. The next day the watch stopped.
In my dreams that night I saw him from behind, walking, holding Ruby's hand.
We will miss him. He truly was a special man.
He passed away on Thursday morning at 7am with his best friend at his side. I am glad he wasn't alone.
That morning at exactly 7am, Lincoln started crying. He had been awake for 20 minutes already and had been happily playing with his toys on the floor. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
The hospice placed a butterfly on his door as they use the butterfly to symbolize a person's natural transformation from life to death.
The next day after I got home with the kids, I put Ruby down for her afternoon nap. Oddly she was up within 10 minutes knocking on her side of her bedroom door. When I opened the door - she had a butterfly in her hand and held it up to me. It was a beautiful handmade butterfly that she got when she was born. It has been hanging on the back of her doorknob and this was the first time she's ever taken it off.
Steve was given his dad's watch the day he died. The next day the watch stopped.
In my dreams that night I saw him from behind, walking, holding Ruby's hand.
We will miss him. He truly was a special man.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The end is near
I can not believe the support I get from you guys. You are amazing, amazing women and I can not thank you enough for supporting me through everything I write about. It makes me feel so much less alone. And so much less like an asshole.
After this past weekend I can't help but feel guilty for writing that last post though. Things have changed again and now Steve really does need my support. His actions have become truly genuine.
Steve took Ruby to visit his dad in the hospice on Saturday morning. He was really tired and a little bit confused but he was able to talk a bit to his visitors and he was watching sports on TV. Then yesterday, Steve, myself, Ruby and Lincoln went in to visit him. We were taken aback at the dramatic change in him. He was basically unconscious the whole time we were there. He is skin and bones. He's barely there.
I found it really hard being there with my kids because they don't know what's going on and I obviously had to mother them and try to keep them quiet. It is no longer bringing Steve's dad joy to bring them to visit. He didn't even know they were there and I struggled to keep them quiet amidst my own grief. Steve's brother and his girlfriend then showed up as I was getting ready to take the kids over to my parents house for their naps. They were obviously shocked at the state FIL was in and things got confusing with people trying to figure out what to do and what to say and who should do what and in the kerfuffle we kind of got ushered out the door (by SIL) without me having the chance to properly say goodbye with the kids. I always put Lincoln's cheek up to FIL's cheek and Ruby always gives him a kiss. We didn't get to do that.
And it was the last time they will ever see him.
They aren't going back to the hospice, it's not right anymore. That kinda bugs me - but I know that it only matters to me. The kids don't know any different and my FIL likely wouldn't have known. But maybe he would have. Anyways - the important thing is that I took them for every visit I could while he could still enjoy them. And they said goodbye and gave kisses every time they left. Except that last time - fuck that really does bug me and I'm pissed that I allowed someone else to rush me out before I did what I needed to do.
Steve and I took the kids over to my parents and then returned to the hospice. By that time it was just MIL and FIL there so we had a bit of time to just sit in the room and chat a bit with MIL and just be with FIL. A couple of times FIL stopped breathing and we all held our own breath. But he started back up each time after a minute or so, but it is very laboured.
We know that the end is very, very close. Likely within a couple of days. Almost surely before the weekend.
When we left, I kissed FIL's cheek and told him I loved him. I rubbed his hand and he squeezed mine and then kind of shook it. Then Steve kissed his dad's head and told him he loved him and hugged him. His dad then lifted his arm and wiggled his fingers to wave goodbye to Steve. Both Steve and I believe that he was saying goodbye to us for the last time. It meant so much to us both. But at the same time, rocked us to the core with overwhelming sadness. There have been lots and LOTS of tears since then.
Steve's mom isn't sure she wants to be in the room with him when he passes. But she doesn't want him alone. Steve said he doesn't want to be there either - he just wants to get a phone call to say that it's over.
I do NOT want him to die alone, I don't think anybody does. I would happily be there with him to hold his hand when he passes. I think I am the strongest, most spiritual person in the family for this situation. The problem of course, is that I have two little kids to look after and I have no options for child care. I feel really helpless with being here, an hour away - and being limited as to what I can do to help.
I'm making a pot of turkey soup right now. Because in the aftermath we'll have something comforting to eat. And also because I need to do something wholesome right now to ease my hurting soul.
As if a pot of turkey fucking soup can do shit to make any of this better.
After this past weekend I can't help but feel guilty for writing that last post though. Things have changed again and now Steve really does need my support. His actions have become truly genuine.
Steve took Ruby to visit his dad in the hospice on Saturday morning. He was really tired and a little bit confused but he was able to talk a bit to his visitors and he was watching sports on TV. Then yesterday, Steve, myself, Ruby and Lincoln went in to visit him. We were taken aback at the dramatic change in him. He was basically unconscious the whole time we were there. He is skin and bones. He's barely there.
I found it really hard being there with my kids because they don't know what's going on and I obviously had to mother them and try to keep them quiet. It is no longer bringing Steve's dad joy to bring them to visit. He didn't even know they were there and I struggled to keep them quiet amidst my own grief. Steve's brother and his girlfriend then showed up as I was getting ready to take the kids over to my parents house for their naps. They were obviously shocked at the state FIL was in and things got confusing with people trying to figure out what to do and what to say and who should do what and in the kerfuffle we kind of got ushered out the door (by SIL) without me having the chance to properly say goodbye with the kids. I always put Lincoln's cheek up to FIL's cheek and Ruby always gives him a kiss. We didn't get to do that.
And it was the last time they will ever see him.
They aren't going back to the hospice, it's not right anymore. That kinda bugs me - but I know that it only matters to me. The kids don't know any different and my FIL likely wouldn't have known. But maybe he would have. Anyways - the important thing is that I took them for every visit I could while he could still enjoy them. And they said goodbye and gave kisses every time they left. Except that last time - fuck that really does bug me and I'm pissed that I allowed someone else to rush me out before I did what I needed to do.
Steve and I took the kids over to my parents and then returned to the hospice. By that time it was just MIL and FIL there so we had a bit of time to just sit in the room and chat a bit with MIL and just be with FIL. A couple of times FIL stopped breathing and we all held our own breath. But he started back up each time after a minute or so, but it is very laboured.
We know that the end is very, very close. Likely within a couple of days. Almost surely before the weekend.
When we left, I kissed FIL's cheek and told him I loved him. I rubbed his hand and he squeezed mine and then kind of shook it. Then Steve kissed his dad's head and told him he loved him and hugged him. His dad then lifted his arm and wiggled his fingers to wave goodbye to Steve. Both Steve and I believe that he was saying goodbye to us for the last time. It meant so much to us both. But at the same time, rocked us to the core with overwhelming sadness. There have been lots and LOTS of tears since then.
Steve's mom isn't sure she wants to be in the room with him when he passes. But she doesn't want him alone. Steve said he doesn't want to be there either - he just wants to get a phone call to say that it's over.
I do NOT want him to die alone, I don't think anybody does. I would happily be there with him to hold his hand when he passes. I think I am the strongest, most spiritual person in the family for this situation. The problem of course, is that I have two little kids to look after and I have no options for child care. I feel really helpless with being here, an hour away - and being limited as to what I can do to help.
I'm making a pot of turkey soup right now. Because in the aftermath we'll have something comforting to eat. And also because I need to do something wholesome right now to ease my hurting soul.
As if a pot of turkey fucking soup can do shit to make any of this better.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I'm a jerk.
At risk of sounding like a selfish, mean, ignorant, cold bitch and alienating all my readers - I am going to go ahead and unload a shitload of thoughts and feelings here that may not leave me in the best of light. I have no choice - if I do not let it out I may implode or explode and I can think of no other "safe-ish" place to do it.
Now, where to start...
I guess to catch you all up on the situation, I'll tell you that Steve's dad took a turn for the worse. His body is riddled with cancer. He has it in his brain, liver, lungs, adrenal gland, spine and likely his colon. The doctor who said he would be back on the golf course by the spring gave everybody false hope and I feel he was very irresponsible in doing that and I would like to personally find him and kick him in the balls. Steve's dad was home but is back in the hospital now as he can not stand up and he is too weak to even hold a newspaper. He's been given a catheter and has a bedsore already. He's got minimal appetite and has lost a load of weight. We were last told that he's got about 6 weeks left. We are all completely fucking devastated. It just sucks. Sucks. Sucks. Sucks.
My MIL has been outstanding. She really has. She's been so strong and I am amazed and impressed by her. Sad that her and I have never gotten along better than we have since my FIL's diagnosis - but I do feel that good will come from bad and I'm happy with this bit of goodness. I have been calling her regularly to check on her, bringing her meals whenever I go visit (which is once a week), and bringing her little gifts and treats whenever I can. She seems to really appreciate it and that makes me feel good.
I wrote my FIL a letter. I wanted him to know how I feel about him and the great job he's done as father to Steve. I wanted him and my MIL to know how I feel and I would never get the chance to say it verbally. They both loved the letter and said my words were beautiful.
I bring the kids to see my FIL at every chance I get. They bring him (and my MIL) such joy and I want him to have as much joy as possible. I also want the kids to spend as much time with him as possible even if they won't remember it later in life.
Where my issues lie are with my husband. (Here's where I make myself look like an asshole.) I feel like he's not dealing with his father's illness very well at all. (I know, I know - we all grieve differently but I think it's more than that) He's always been a softy and an emotional person and he is VERY close with his dad so I expected him to be really sad and to have some struggles. I expected tears and emotions. But I am starting to think that it's getting out of control and that he's perhaps being a little bit... selfish about the whole thing. Last weekend when we went to visit in the hospital we had a nice visit until we were ready to leave and Steve absolutely fell apart. I stood off to the side of the room with the kids, waiting for him to hug and kiss his dad but he started sobbing and waved me out of the room. I had to pack Ruby and Lincoln (who is now over 21lbs, by the way) out of the hospital and load them into the van by myself. Steve showed up a while later, a complete wreck, sobbing and saying he's never seen his dad so upset. Well, darling... that is because you were so upset in front of him. The man is dying - can we not give him the gift of at least restraining ourselves from falling apart in front of him? He wants to know that we're going to be ok after he's gone - I feel it's unfair to unload our sorrow onto him. He then had me drive to his moms house so he could bawl on her shoulder. She was a bit chuffed at him and told him that we have to just deal with this shitty part of life and he needs to keep his chin up. I also felt that that maybe wasn't fair for him to do to his mom - she's dealing with SO MUCH already. I feel like Steve still wants to be a little boy and for his mom and dad (and brother) to take care of him. He needs to man up a bit.
His family has started leaving him out of decisions and family meetings and discussions because he can't seem to handle any of it. But he gets upset to not be involved. I honestly don't blame them. Everybody is dealing with their own grief and their own problems and trying to make the best of the time they have left and it's hard for them to have to deal with Steve's sobbing on top of all of that.
And if you think that sounds cold... just wait. I've got more.
Steve will use any and all opportunity to elicit sympathy from people. My mom asked him the other day if he's busy at work and he replied that he had to go for a little walk by himself to sort out his thoughts. Uh, not what she was asking. He gets all weepy at the drop of the hat. He'll call me to talk about banking and it somehow gets turned around to him being sad and he'll get all choked up. I mean, I've been nothing but supportive to him. He has been seeing a counselor and everyone around him is trying to help him. And I kinda feel like he's liking it, too much. He seems to LOVE people giving him sympathy. I sometimes think he uses this situation to get attention.
...I'm going to hell.
He is mopey around the house. He cries in front of our kids. He isn't supportive of me. He hates it if I say anything that isn't 100% sympathetic to him and his needs. He is distant from me. He wants me to care for him and the kids and the house and he gives nothing in return - all in the name of grief.
I work HARD all day every day. The added stress and requirements with his dad's illness have added to my physical and emotional work load. I don't complain. I don't. I feel it is my job and I suck it up and I do what I have to do. At the end of the day when I'm tired and yes, sometimes depressed and sad over the situation - he rarely notices. He's too consumed with his own self. It's not about ME, I know that. But I'm lonely and tired and sad and need some sort of comfort and companionship.
Yes, his dad is dying but Steve is still a husband and a father and he has responsibilities to me and to us.
To add to the misery - he recently cracked a rib while playing soccer. Good lord, he's on about it every chance he gets. He cries and complains and fucking whines about it all day and night. The other night he woke me in the middle of the night to tell me he slipped off his pillow and could I adjust him back onto his pillow because it hurt him too much and he couldn't move. Really? And even though he's been to the doctor and he's been told there's nothing they can do for a cracked rib except have him take lots of Advil - he still keeps threatening he's going to take himself to emergency because it hurts so bad. Oh for fuck sakes, suck it up! I realize how painful a cracked rib can be but good lord I am so sick and tired of hearing about his fucking painful ribs and watching him mope around wallowing in self sorrow.
I'm running out of Mrs. Nice Wife. I'm starting to get short with him and frustrated by the little things - like him breathing too loud, or scraping his teeth on his fork, or getting sucked into fucking Facebook like a bloody zombie while the house falls apart around him. Sometimes my kids get on my nerves because I've been so frazzled by everything else and have little support.
Ok, that's enough - kids are fussing and Steve has called saying he's on his way home for his lunch (which I need to make). I've said enough to guarantee myself a spot in hell now anyways. I had to get it out though. Thanks for listening/reading. Try not to judge me too harshly.
Now, where to start...
I guess to catch you all up on the situation, I'll tell you that Steve's dad took a turn for the worse. His body is riddled with cancer. He has it in his brain, liver, lungs, adrenal gland, spine and likely his colon. The doctor who said he would be back on the golf course by the spring gave everybody false hope and I feel he was very irresponsible in doing that and I would like to personally find him and kick him in the balls. Steve's dad was home but is back in the hospital now as he can not stand up and he is too weak to even hold a newspaper. He's been given a catheter and has a bedsore already. He's got minimal appetite and has lost a load of weight. We were last told that he's got about 6 weeks left. We are all completely fucking devastated. It just sucks. Sucks. Sucks. Sucks.
My MIL has been outstanding. She really has. She's been so strong and I am amazed and impressed by her. Sad that her and I have never gotten along better than we have since my FIL's diagnosis - but I do feel that good will come from bad and I'm happy with this bit of goodness. I have been calling her regularly to check on her, bringing her meals whenever I go visit (which is once a week), and bringing her little gifts and treats whenever I can. She seems to really appreciate it and that makes me feel good.
I wrote my FIL a letter. I wanted him to know how I feel about him and the great job he's done as father to Steve. I wanted him and my MIL to know how I feel and I would never get the chance to say it verbally. They both loved the letter and said my words were beautiful.
I bring the kids to see my FIL at every chance I get. They bring him (and my MIL) such joy and I want him to have as much joy as possible. I also want the kids to spend as much time with him as possible even if they won't remember it later in life.
Where my issues lie are with my husband. (Here's where I make myself look like an asshole.) I feel like he's not dealing with his father's illness very well at all. (I know, I know - we all grieve differently but I think it's more than that) He's always been a softy and an emotional person and he is VERY close with his dad so I expected him to be really sad and to have some struggles. I expected tears and emotions. But I am starting to think that it's getting out of control and that he's perhaps being a little bit... selfish about the whole thing. Last weekend when we went to visit in the hospital we had a nice visit until we were ready to leave and Steve absolutely fell apart. I stood off to the side of the room with the kids, waiting for him to hug and kiss his dad but he started sobbing and waved me out of the room. I had to pack Ruby and Lincoln (who is now over 21lbs, by the way) out of the hospital and load them into the van by myself. Steve showed up a while later, a complete wreck, sobbing and saying he's never seen his dad so upset. Well, darling... that is because you were so upset in front of him. The man is dying - can we not give him the gift of at least restraining ourselves from falling apart in front of him? He wants to know that we're going to be ok after he's gone - I feel it's unfair to unload our sorrow onto him. He then had me drive to his moms house so he could bawl on her shoulder. She was a bit chuffed at him and told him that we have to just deal with this shitty part of life and he needs to keep his chin up. I also felt that that maybe wasn't fair for him to do to his mom - she's dealing with SO MUCH already. I feel like Steve still wants to be a little boy and for his mom and dad (and brother) to take care of him. He needs to man up a bit.
His family has started leaving him out of decisions and family meetings and discussions because he can't seem to handle any of it. But he gets upset to not be involved. I honestly don't blame them. Everybody is dealing with their own grief and their own problems and trying to make the best of the time they have left and it's hard for them to have to deal with Steve's sobbing on top of all of that.
And if you think that sounds cold... just wait. I've got more.
Steve will use any and all opportunity to elicit sympathy from people. My mom asked him the other day if he's busy at work and he replied that he had to go for a little walk by himself to sort out his thoughts. Uh, not what she was asking. He gets all weepy at the drop of the hat. He'll call me to talk about banking and it somehow gets turned around to him being sad and he'll get all choked up. I mean, I've been nothing but supportive to him. He has been seeing a counselor and everyone around him is trying to help him. And I kinda feel like he's liking it, too much. He seems to LOVE people giving him sympathy. I sometimes think he uses this situation to get attention.
...I'm going to hell.
He is mopey around the house. He cries in front of our kids. He isn't supportive of me. He hates it if I say anything that isn't 100% sympathetic to him and his needs. He is distant from me. He wants me to care for him and the kids and the house and he gives nothing in return - all in the name of grief.
I work HARD all day every day. The added stress and requirements with his dad's illness have added to my physical and emotional work load. I don't complain. I don't. I feel it is my job and I suck it up and I do what I have to do. At the end of the day when I'm tired and yes, sometimes depressed and sad over the situation - he rarely notices. He's too consumed with his own self. It's not about ME, I know that. But I'm lonely and tired and sad and need some sort of comfort and companionship.
Yes, his dad is dying but Steve is still a husband and a father and he has responsibilities to me and to us.
To add to the misery - he recently cracked a rib while playing soccer. Good lord, he's on about it every chance he gets. He cries and complains and fucking whines about it all day and night. The other night he woke me in the middle of the night to tell me he slipped off his pillow and could I adjust him back onto his pillow because it hurt him too much and he couldn't move. Really? And even though he's been to the doctor and he's been told there's nothing they can do for a cracked rib except have him take lots of Advil - he still keeps threatening he's going to take himself to emergency because it hurts so bad. Oh for fuck sakes, suck it up! I realize how painful a cracked rib can be but good lord I am so sick and tired of hearing about his fucking painful ribs and watching him mope around wallowing in self sorrow.
I'm running out of Mrs. Nice Wife. I'm starting to get short with him and frustrated by the little things - like him breathing too loud, or scraping his teeth on his fork, or getting sucked into fucking Facebook like a bloody zombie while the house falls apart around him. Sometimes my kids get on my nerves because I've been so frazzled by everything else and have little support.
Ok, that's enough - kids are fussing and Steve has called saying he's on his way home for his lunch (which I need to make). I've said enough to guarantee myself a spot in hell now anyways. I had to get it out though. Thanks for listening/reading. Try not to judge me too harshly.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Sleep Training
I got Lincoln's "sleep plan" this past weekend. Sleep training is the last fucking thing on earth I feel like doing right now. The last thing. However, I paid the money for the plan and having Lincoln sleep better would greatly improve our lives. And so today, I put the plan in motion.
I am scared though. With the heaviness in this house lately I have been so stressed out. Almost to the point of being manic sometimes. I get sooooo wound up, feeling like there are a million things I need to do. I recognize that I am feeling the need to control everything I can because of the things that I can not. Still, I can't help myself. I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to handle the crying that is going to inevitably come with the sleep training. I'm afraid the stress will overtake me.
We've been doing a lot of driving back and forth to the hospital over the past two weeks and I that has been making me feel even more out of control. I've been doing all the driving - which is an hour each way through city traffic. I've been trying to manage kids naps and meals and playtime and behavior through all of it, which has been no easy task. Sleeping in the van and eating drive through chicken mcnuggets is ok once in a while, but I stress that it's happening too much. I try to plan ahead but there is so much going on inside my head and out that it's all I can do to just hang on by my fingernails.
Hopefully now that the holidays are over and there is a bit more structure, things will level out a bit. Also, Steve's dad is likely going to be sent home from the hospital tomorrow. So our visits will become weekly and they won't be at the hospital anymore (God willing). It will make things a little easier visiting at their house.
Over the past couple of weeks I've pretty much weaned Lincoln from breastfeeding. It's been beneficial to me and him. He's sleeping better already with the increased calories - and I'm less tied down and able to function a little more effectively. I've also started him on solids which he loves (except peas, that's my boy!). He's "only" awake 2 or 3 times a night now. Still his naps are junk.
As much as I don't want to do the sleep training, it's now or never. I need to start within one week of getting the plan. And really, what would I wait for anyways? It's not like things are going to change any time soon.
I'm hanging on to the fact that today is as close to a fresh start as we're going to get so I'm going forward with whatever needs to be done to get Lincoln sleeping better. While I'm at it, I'm going to take advantage of this being a "quieter" week and working on getting everything clean and organized and my family in a better place (along with my headspace), so that we can go forward as best we can with what we're given.
I am scared though. With the heaviness in this house lately I have been so stressed out. Almost to the point of being manic sometimes. I get sooooo wound up, feeling like there are a million things I need to do. I recognize that I am feeling the need to control everything I can because of the things that I can not. Still, I can't help myself. I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to handle the crying that is going to inevitably come with the sleep training. I'm afraid the stress will overtake me.
We've been doing a lot of driving back and forth to the hospital over the past two weeks and I that has been making me feel even more out of control. I've been doing all the driving - which is an hour each way through city traffic. I've been trying to manage kids naps and meals and playtime and behavior through all of it, which has been no easy task. Sleeping in the van and eating drive through chicken mcnuggets is ok once in a while, but I stress that it's happening too much. I try to plan ahead but there is so much going on inside my head and out that it's all I can do to just hang on by my fingernails.
Hopefully now that the holidays are over and there is a bit more structure, things will level out a bit. Also, Steve's dad is likely going to be sent home from the hospital tomorrow. So our visits will become weekly and they won't be at the hospital anymore (God willing). It will make things a little easier visiting at their house.
Over the past couple of weeks I've pretty much weaned Lincoln from breastfeeding. It's been beneficial to me and him. He's sleeping better already with the increased calories - and I'm less tied down and able to function a little more effectively. I've also started him on solids which he loves (except peas, that's my boy!). He's "only" awake 2 or 3 times a night now. Still his naps are junk.
As much as I don't want to do the sleep training, it's now or never. I need to start within one week of getting the plan. And really, what would I wait for anyways? It's not like things are going to change any time soon.
I'm hanging on to the fact that today is as close to a fresh start as we're going to get so I'm going forward with whatever needs to be done to get Lincoln sleeping better. While I'm at it, I'm going to take advantage of this being a "quieter" week and working on getting everything clean and organized and my family in a better place (along with my headspace), so that we can go forward as best we can with what we're given.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Year
Well, it's now 2011. We've finally moved past 2010 which was such a difficult year for us. I am very excited for a fresh start.
It seems though, that the cancer in my father in law's brain (and now lungs, back and kidneys), didn't get the memo that we were starting fresh this year. The cancer is still there and it is refusing to respond to treatment. This is usually one my favorite times of the year - after all the hoopla of the holidays is over and I can get down to improving my life in various ways. I love January and the fresh start that it brings.
But at the end of December 31st, 2010, when the clock struck twelve and the calendar rolled over - the pain and sadness and heaviness did not abate. The cancer is still there. We are all still hurting. And how can we look forward to 2011 with too much hope and happiness when we know it will likely be the year we lose Steve's dad, my father in law, the kids' grandpa?
It seems though, that the cancer in my father in law's brain (and now lungs, back and kidneys), didn't get the memo that we were starting fresh this year. The cancer is still there and it is refusing to respond to treatment. This is usually one my favorite times of the year - after all the hoopla of the holidays is over and I can get down to improving my life in various ways. I love January and the fresh start that it brings.
But at the end of December 31st, 2010, when the clock struck twelve and the calendar rolled over - the pain and sadness and heaviness did not abate. The cancer is still there. We are all still hurting. And how can we look forward to 2011 with too much hope and happiness when we know it will likely be the year we lose Steve's dad, my father in law, the kids' grandpa?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Grandpas
On Boxing Day my parents came over for a visit. We spent the day together and had a nice time during the day.
Then at about 3pm, right on cue, my dad started drinking.
He continued on for the afternoon and early evening, alternating between going outside to smoke pot and going downstairs to get another beer out of the fridge - eventually getting to that place where he is a blabbering, slobbery, retarded, annoying ass.
I am on edge when he gets like that because although he means no harm to anyone, he is just so obnoxious and I don't want him around my kids. Ruby has become very nervous of him - not because he's ever done anything to harm her but because she senses that something isn't right.
At one point he looked adoringly at Lincoln (through his bleary eyes) and told him that he can't wait until Lincoln is a little older as he can picture Lincoln at their house, following him around outside, hanging out in the yard.
And I envisioned my dad walking around the yard with beer in his hand and "secretly" going into his garage to smoke pot and coming out wreaking of weed - while Lincoln tootles around taking it all in. Not my idea of a healthy grandpa/grandson relationship.
I made appies that night for us to enjoy while we watched the hockey game. Mushroom turnovers, spring rolls, chicken wings. Steve stared at my dad in disgust while he gorged on the wings and the "apple turnovers and cottage rolls" as he kept calling them.
And I sat across the room watching him with a heavy, heavy heart. All I could think was that this, THIS is going to be the only grandfather that my kids will know.
Then at about 3pm, right on cue, my dad started drinking.
He continued on for the afternoon and early evening, alternating between going outside to smoke pot and going downstairs to get another beer out of the fridge - eventually getting to that place where he is a blabbering, slobbery, retarded, annoying ass.
I am on edge when he gets like that because although he means no harm to anyone, he is just so obnoxious and I don't want him around my kids. Ruby has become very nervous of him - not because he's ever done anything to harm her but because she senses that something isn't right.
At one point he looked adoringly at Lincoln (through his bleary eyes) and told him that he can't wait until Lincoln is a little older as he can picture Lincoln at their house, following him around outside, hanging out in the yard.
And I envisioned my dad walking around the yard with beer in his hand and "secretly" going into his garage to smoke pot and coming out wreaking of weed - while Lincoln tootles around taking it all in. Not my idea of a healthy grandpa/grandson relationship.
I made appies that night for us to enjoy while we watched the hockey game. Mushroom turnovers, spring rolls, chicken wings. Steve stared at my dad in disgust while he gorged on the wings and the "apple turnovers and cottage rolls" as he kept calling them.
And I sat across the room watching him with a heavy, heavy heart. All I could think was that this, THIS is going to be the only grandfather that my kids will know.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Processing
I'm going to go ahead and say that this Christmas was not a great one. My husband was in a very, very bad place, unable to pull himself together for more than a few minutes at a time. I spent the entire night from Christmas Eve through to Christmas morning holding him and offering any comfort I could while he cried out all night, in gut wrenching agony. The words and sounds of pain coming out of his mouth broke my heart over and over and over. That level of grief scared the shit out of me. I've never experienced anything like it and I never want to feel that again (although I'd be a fool to think I'm safe from it now) I felt truly scared. Scared of what, I couldn't put my finger on exactly but I had an overwhelming feeling of being absolutely terrorized.
Ok, maybe I do know what I was scared of... I was scared that there was nothing I could do to fix this and that we'd have to just experience it - as awful as it is. I was scared I wouldn't be strong enough. I was scared of what was to come. I was scared of this much sadness. I was scared that I was too close to being able to imagine what it would be like to lose one of my children.... (there, I said it) Why that thought kept crossing my mind I have no idea.
Christmas day after opening gifts we packed up and headed out to see Steve's dad in the hospital. It's an hour's drive from our house. On the way, I felt that we were given a sort of a sign... It's probably going to sound a bit strange coming from me but here's the story...
I'm currently reading "The Shack" by William P. Young. When I picked it up a month or so ago I had NO IDEA what it was about, and didn't realize it was so spiritual but I've been in a rough place lately and figured I would give it a go, who knows maybe it would provide me with a bit of guidance or some sort of light. I won't get into all the details of the book except to say that in the book the characters refer to God as "Papa".
As we were driving down the highway towards the hospital in a state of absolute despair, a white van pulled up beside us and then pulled ahead. Written on the side of the van in giant, bright red letters was "PAPA". Now, it was some sort of plumbing company or something but I couldn't help but to feel that maybe someone was with us and helping us through a very difficult day and that we weren't facing all this alone without any help from... above(?).
I tried to relay it to Steve but I don't think he was in a place where he could process it. I also mentioned it to his mom and my parents and nobody seems to have the feeling that I did and maybe they all think I'm a little bit crazy. Perhaps they're not far off.
But I believe in that sort of thing.
And if it can help me a little bit, then I can help Steve a bit and we're all a little better off.
Related perhaps slightly to the above story - or more likely to the fact that my antidepressants have started to kick in (thank goodness I got those when I did!), I've been able to get myself to a slightly better place. I've decided to make the best of this horrible situation. I've decided to that we were given a gift on Christmas eve in that we were notified that we have limited time left with a loved one. I'm grateful that he wasn't taken from us suddenly, leaving us longing for things we wanted to say, things we wanted to do, hugs we wanted to give and get. I choose to make the absolute best out of the time we have left with a special man and I will have no regrets when he does pass. I want to make sure that my children get to spend as much time with him as they can. I want to be as kind and helpful as I can to my mother in law.
My heart breaks to think that my kids will not have him in their lives but I will do whatever I can to make sure they hear lots of stories about him and make sure they know how much he loves them.
Things have also picked up a bit for Steve. He's reached out for help which is something he's never done before. He's getting some grief counseling through his company's employee assistance program and he's called some friends to let them know what he's going through and everyone is coming together to help each other.
If nothing else, I think this tragedy will help bring us all closer.
I can't allow our lives to be destroyed by this - and Steve's dad wouldn't want that anyways. There is going to be a new "normal" once again. A difficult "normal", but we need to make the best of what we are given.
Ok, maybe I do know what I was scared of... I was scared that there was nothing I could do to fix this and that we'd have to just experience it - as awful as it is. I was scared I wouldn't be strong enough. I was scared of what was to come. I was scared of this much sadness. I was scared that I was too close to being able to imagine what it would be like to lose one of my children.... (there, I said it) Why that thought kept crossing my mind I have no idea.
Christmas day after opening gifts we packed up and headed out to see Steve's dad in the hospital. It's an hour's drive from our house. On the way, I felt that we were given a sort of a sign... It's probably going to sound a bit strange coming from me but here's the story...
I'm currently reading "The Shack" by William P. Young. When I picked it up a month or so ago I had NO IDEA what it was about, and didn't realize it was so spiritual but I've been in a rough place lately and figured I would give it a go, who knows maybe it would provide me with a bit of guidance or some sort of light. I won't get into all the details of the book except to say that in the book the characters refer to God as "Papa".
As we were driving down the highway towards the hospital in a state of absolute despair, a white van pulled up beside us and then pulled ahead. Written on the side of the van in giant, bright red letters was "PAPA". Now, it was some sort of plumbing company or something but I couldn't help but to feel that maybe someone was with us and helping us through a very difficult day and that we weren't facing all this alone without any help from... above(?).
I tried to relay it to Steve but I don't think he was in a place where he could process it. I also mentioned it to his mom and my parents and nobody seems to have the feeling that I did and maybe they all think I'm a little bit crazy. Perhaps they're not far off.
But I believe in that sort of thing.
And if it can help me a little bit, then I can help Steve a bit and we're all a little better off.
Related perhaps slightly to the above story - or more likely to the fact that my antidepressants have started to kick in (thank goodness I got those when I did!), I've been able to get myself to a slightly better place. I've decided to make the best of this horrible situation. I've decided to that we were given a gift on Christmas eve in that we were notified that we have limited time left with a loved one. I'm grateful that he wasn't taken from us suddenly, leaving us longing for things we wanted to say, things we wanted to do, hugs we wanted to give and get. I choose to make the absolute best out of the time we have left with a special man and I will have no regrets when he does pass. I want to make sure that my children get to spend as much time with him as they can. I want to be as kind and helpful as I can to my mother in law.
My heart breaks to think that my kids will not have him in their lives but I will do whatever I can to make sure they hear lots of stories about him and make sure they know how much he loves them.
Things have also picked up a bit for Steve. He's reached out for help which is something he's never done before. He's getting some grief counseling through his company's employee assistance program and he's called some friends to let them know what he's going through and everyone is coming together to help each other.
If nothing else, I think this tragedy will help bring us all closer.
I can't allow our lives to be destroyed by this - and Steve's dad wouldn't want that anyways. There is going to be a new "normal" once again. A difficult "normal", but we need to make the best of what we are given.
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