I sat with the kind-natured assistant to our geneticist on Monday, detailing our medical history.
The path of my life…
Single parenthood.
An autism diagnosis.
Marriage and step-parenting.
Infertility struggles.
Is this really me?
High risk pregnancy.
Premature birth.
Is she truly checking every box?
I recite heart-wrenching memories with medical precision.
Speech delay, motor dyspraxia, intrauterine growth restriction, fetal distress leading to premature delivery, cerebral hemorrhage, sepsis, pulmonary hemorrhage.
One medical term after the next. All ours.
How did I get here?
Proud of my unwaivering voice and lack of tears, I sit tall as I speak.
All business, and focused on answers for the little girl spinning a doctors chair at my side.
There is no crying in baseball.
Despite my brave face and comprehensive explanations, the history I recited, the growing thud in my ears and finally the rumbling of my daughter’s cry as her blood work is drawn, breaks me into pieces.
And I can’t pick them up right now.
I just can’t.
I’m tired, I can’t wrap life up in a bow or find a life lesson in our continued struggles.
We could check every box.
I want to worry about what to bring for snack and if we’re saving enough for college and what color polish will be “in” this season, but the roar is too loud.
I’m content with a good minivan cry, an appointment-free afternoon, four living, breathing kids and a husband who can’t stand to miss bedtime.
They will me out of bed each morning, pull my hands along until I remember how to put one foot in front of the other and press my cheeks into a smile,
even when tears are running down.
Linking up with Shell for PYHO (I hope to share a silver lining soon but this may not happen until I am able to leave my pity party).
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You are so brave and strong! If I were in your situation, I am not sure I can handle it! Thank you for raising awareness to Autism and being brave enough to show your real experiences with all of us!
Thanks so much Ashley!
Big hugs! You have been through so much and I can’t even imagine having to tell a stranger all of this. There is so much more to you and your family than what is on those forms.
Thinking about you my friend and I am always here for you. Love you. xoxo
I’ve been there. It’s amazing how our kids reaching for our hands and our spouses just showing up can pull us along until we can walk on our own again. Much love, some prayers and a hug heading your way.
Let’s ADD some boxes to that list, shall we?
Inspirational writer. (CHECK!)
Fabulously down-to-earth-and-genuine-woman (CHECK!)
Generous and genuine at every opportunity (CHECK!)
Beloved blogger to the masses (CHECK!)
I know we can’t make it better (boy I wish we could). But in the meantime I hope you’ll let us wash you with love.
Hugs hugs and more hugs…
Ryan
You are so sweet, I can’t thank you enough for this comment and all of your support. Truly lucky to have connected with you in this big blogosphere. xo
Hi beautiful mama – I hear you.
I think about my own life, different struggles, and how I can list them with medical precision too but it takes a small chink in the façade to show that it’s just a façade.
My heart is with you as you go through this next trial – may it be less painful and overwhelming than it seems to be right now.
Hi again,
I just read that you were pregnant with triplets and lost one. I was pregnant with triplets, saw their little heartbeats and lost them the next day. We will never forget them! Lisa
Oh wow Lisa, I am so sorry for all of your heartbreak.
I stumbled upon your site and just couldn’t believe how your post sounded like me! I have two boys. I sat through an appointment at a geneticist office and checked many boxes also. Both my boys have fragile X syndrome. They were both premature. (27 and 30 weeks) , I have 5 angels in heaven. I am a teacher to other peoples children all day and teach first graders to read. They can read almost as well as I do! I love my boys dearly. They are my life. Their father loves them as much as I do. I will never be a grandmother or teach them how to drive. Someday I wish for “normal” stuff. Thank you for your site.. I love it! Lisa
The only I can do to comfort you is to give you all my prayers. I wish you can recover from what you are feeling. Just pray hard and He will help you with all your troubles.
I haven’t been here in far too long. The “pity party” will end when it ends. I love that you’re honoring it.
Some great comments, too. Alexandra’s about taking inventory to validate your experience and Julie’s about all the other boxes that apply to you and your life. You have built yourself such an amazing community here.
Jessica, my heart broke with each trial you mentioned.
When my dad was ill with cancer and faced one major ailment after another, so many (trying to encourage him) would point out what he had to be thankful for…how matters could be worse. And I will always remember him telling me…I know I’m blessed…I know things COULD be worse…but that doesn’t mean that all of this doesn’t still suck!
And so I say…cry. Sometimes you just need too! Love to you and your family.
Totally agree with your dad’s sentiments. Yes, we have much to be thankful for but sometimes things just suck! Thank you for your support. xo
There is so much love surrounding you. I hope we can all help lift you up a little bit.
Boxes cannot represent life.smiles and happiness do. I love reading your blog cause you never fail to remember that!
And every time you need a good cry (which you deserve, so NEVER apologize) picture me next to you checking off some other boxes that also apply to you:
-strength
-love
-beauty
-wisdom
-grace
-bravery
-honesty
-faith
-patience
-humor
-tolerance
-acceptance
-heroism
Guess what? You get to check every one of these boxes, too.
Well now I am all teary eyed again. Thank you Julie. Truly.
You are the most brave mother I know. Much love to you.
Thanks so much Monique, can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.
Hugs and love to you. I’m here.
When the things you once only thought happened to other people happen to you, it’s OK to have a pity party.
Really.
Let it out, girl. Let it alllll out. Some days, it just requires way too much effort to find that silver lining. You are a wonderful mommy who has been through so much already. I just hope that a bit of peace is coming your way soon. We are here for you always. XOXO
I know that feeling, when the entire bolt has been unfurled, and there just doesn’t seem to be a bit of silver on the back. I’m hoping you find a sliver of something precious and bright to wrap yourself in soon…
My heart is with yours.
(Big bow never necessary.)
I think that sometimes it is okay to not have a silver lining. You have had a lot of struggles and are due some time to cry in the van. To hate that every box is checked. To not pick up the pieces right away.
You are one of the strongest people I know and I know you will continue to put one foot in front of each other and I know that you will find that silver lining when you really need it.
Sending hugs and prayers to you.
It’s okay to have a pity party today. It really is.
Oh my gosh… we are in the process of changing health care plans and I was just interrogated two weeks ago on the phone in an hour long conversation and was asked tons of extremely personal questions about my health, secondary infertility, grief counseling I sought after my parents died and then later when I miscarried, Lucas’ DOC Band, etc., etc., etc. and it left me feeling completely vulnerable and broken. So, I get this all too well.
Hugs to you, my friend. xoxo
I’m so sorry, GAH, it’s just not fair.
Waiting and praying for that silver lining with you Jessica.
xo
I love you. Just so much love. Hurting with you. *HUG*
Jessica, the strength you have shown and continue to show through all of these struggles is unbelievable. I wish there was an EASY button that could be applied to daily life. I would certainly get it for you.
I am looking foward to reading your silver lining post because I know it is coming.
Thinking of your and your beautiful family.
You truly are amazing- you have gone through so so much. And don’t worry about the silver lining, it will come when it’s good and ready and you have had a chance to shed all you need to.
Oh, Jessica, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how you feel, what you have gone through, but you are the strongest mom I know of.
And those geneticists. They are certainly thorough, aren’t they?
I’m so sorry that you’re having to go through all of this and I wish that there were something that I could do to make it better. To change it so you didn’t have to check all of those boxes… something.
For now all I have are kind words and keeping you in my thoughts.
You are such a strong brave women.
And even those women need to sit back and let the magnitude of what is going on around them to sink in.
It’s ok to cry.
We all need to.
I hope that your silver lining is on its way.
Until then lean on us…
xoxo
We all need a good minivan cry. Big hugs to you! XOXO
You are a beautiful writer, and you are strong enough. You are also allowed as many pity parties as you need 😉
Wish there was more to say other than thinking of you and your family.
Oh, Jessica. I am so sorry for you and your beautiful family.
My heart breaks for you everytime I read your words. You are so much stronger than you think. You can do this. I know the words won’t make it easier, but we’re here to listen. Thinking of you.
I so wish you could check N/A or None for your precious little ones!
Thinking of you!
Me too! Thank you Sam.
Oh honey… my heart goes out to you. I wish there was some way I could help.
You are a warrior for your kids & family and I’m always so impressed by that. Your strength amazes me and I know it’s what pulls your family forward. I wish for the day when you are sharing that silver lining with all of us, but until then we are all here to listen, support and send our very best thoughts your way.
When you write like this, it gives me chills.
The chills of having someone on the planet who knows.
It seems everyone has a catalogue ordered life, and I feel left out, as if I could never catch up to those who’ve had no suffering, or challenges.
A therapist once told me, when I asked her why things are so much more difficult for me than for others, that I’ve had a lot happen. And that I should inventory it: not to ruminate, but to validate.
Your post here today did that for me.
Thank you.
So very much.
Wow, “not ruminate, but validate” I needed that and will be playing it over and over in my mind until I can do it.
I hate feeling like “why me?” but I do right now, it is just the place I am in, sooner or later it will pass, I know this, but right now, I’m stuck.
oh. Oh Jessica. My heart is just breaking with this post. I remember days where I would sit with my RE’s and have days like this, every single box being checked ….and my heart would sink.
the thing is that you are so strong from where I am sitting…you are such an incredible example of mothering to me.
I know it isn’t easy, won’t be easy..but I do hope you KNOW that we are all here for you , you can have that pity party as long as you need to. I’m not going anywhere.
hugging you in my heart.
xo
Thank you so much Kir, I’m glad, not that you’ve had difficult situations but that you can relate. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one without 2.5 kids and a dog, you know?
I wish I had something to say. I wish I had words of encouragement … or even a shoulder to offer. But, I can send hugs – from one part of the internet to another. xo
And that is all I need, thank you.
Oh my friend. I ache for the sadness you are feeling behind your beautiful, honest words. I am so sorry for the struggles you face, but I am also in awe of your strength, bravery, and ability to put one foot in front of the other.
Sometimes? That’s no small feat.
Love you. Sending so many hugs. xoxo
I read your post this morning and felt the exact same about you. One foot in front of the other, my friend. Tons of love to you.
I’m sitting here crying.
I hate appointments like that- when it’s all laid out like that. And there are no boxes to check for all the positives. It makes me feel so hopeless. But also like I want to snatch the pen and start writing the good on the forms, too.
Because we KNOW the good is there. So much of it. Even through all the struggles, all the problems, there is so much blessings to be found in our children, in our families.
I hope that you can get some answers and help soon, my friend.
I also hope you know that I’m always around if you need to vent. xo
Thanks so much Shell, I thought of you yesterday, as McKenna cried over her blood work and how you have been going through that for so long with your son. I hate that any of us are going through these situations but it is so good to know I am not alone. And you know I’m totally taking advantage of your venting offer :).
There is no crying in baseball, but there damn sure is crying in the minivan. And the shower. And, sometimes, in the damn dairy aisle (hand raised for that happening last week).
I love this for your honesty and its beauty of words and feelings. But more than that, I love this because it reminds me that this shit is hard. Life is hard. And no matter what we are experiencing, it’s good to know that we aren’t crying alone, that there are others, reading, listening, nodding, willing to hug and say keep getting up. I needed this today. Thank you.
It is hard and sometimes it just sucks and there is no silver lining. I really hesitated to post this today because I had nothing positive to leave people with but I guess sometimes knowing you are not alone is all any of us need.
And we are thankful for you and your blog. That you continue to share your life, your struggles AND your sucesses with us.
Oh Jess, I can’t believe how you turned something so difficult into such a beautiful post. I had tears streaming down my face at the end with you. All we can do is do what our kids need us to do. Shut off the roar of the worry and fill it with the sounds of your kids playing and saying they love you…and take your time. Only you can feel what is in your own heart.
Jessica, You are so strong, and I know you can do this for your family. I know words can’t lighten your load right now, but I am sending prayers and thoughts, and I truly wish there was more I could do. xo
Im so sorry. Thanks for not creating a bow that’s a fearless honesty.
I was just reading some of the comments you left on my blog after Samantha passed away. Thank you.
Thank you so much for visiting Jaclyn, I’m glad you did because I can’t find my way back to you blog. Could you send me the address again?
Oh friend. You’re so much stronger than you think and letting yourself feel what you feel is not a pity party. Thinking of you. So much.
I can’t even find the appropriate words for a response. Your writing blows me away. I pray that you see that silver lining soon.
A wonderful share this morning. Praying to ease your heartache but knowing you will bounce back fighting and inspiring everyone you meet. Love–Yours is unconditional.
Hugs and prayers for all of you. This too shall pass. There may be new challenges ahead, but for today you’ve made it through this one. And, even through your pain I admire how you’re able to celebrate the little things, that are oh, so sweet.
I just want to give you a big {HUG} today.
That’s all.
Your writing is so beautiful and speaks to me so deeply. I hope you were able to have a good cry and find some peace that day.
I sympathize with what your feeling a lot. I wish I could just give you a hug and make it all better. 🙁
Love you. I have nothing to give you but my time, my heart and my ears.
Please put pretty earrings in my ears if you borrow them.
I totally will, although I’m not very good at picking out accessories.
Love you!
Jessica, I so wish I lived up there.I would come over and give you a hug and sit and have a cup of tea or a glass of wine with you. Not everyone understands this kind of pain. YOu are in my prayers sweet, lovely girl, I hope you can feel the hug and love I am sending you.
Isn’t is remarkable what a good “minivan cry” can do for you? Just recently been there.
Take care.
m.
It truly is although I was sort of ticked that the parking attendant still charged me for the 5 extra minutes I spent over my limit in the parking structure crying my eyes out.
Such a well-written post. When I was pregnant with my second child, I felt that I had to check every box, too when I went for genetic counseling. Touching post.
no crying indeed…
love you
I really hate filling out the boxes at doctor’s appointments. Really. I wish I didn’t have to check anything. I wish you didn’t either. I won’t say that you are strong (but you are). I won’t say that you will be okay (but you will). I won’t say that I admire your ability to get through the days (but I do). Instead I will say, you are loved.
I know you will feel better soon. Your post is so beautiful.
{{{hugs}}}
I hope answers come quickly, Jessica. The feeling of drifting at sea without sails or a rudder can be overwhelming.
All this I know, and I feel, and it breaks my heart.
I hope that you will remain strong as you face everything. I believe that something good is on the way for you.
What a powerful post….I hope your load lightens soon.
Though they will probably come with their own kinds of challenges I do hope you get some answers soon. I’m going to hope to hear about that silver lining in the very near future.
Most medical forms reduce me to tears these days. I wish there were some common medical form database where each doctor could just look up our history without us having to write it out again and again.
Sending you hugs and hopes for the silver lining. Take care.