XO, Isabel

Uncelebration

Today is my mother's birthday
She's 51 this morning
She doesn't celebrate her day
She'd be offended if I didn't call her
anyway
I'll phone her up and call her
a viejita
She'll laugh and tell me about
all the things she does so well
and those that she does
better than dad
Mowing the lawn has its
benefits, ya sabes

I wrote that yesterday morning while sitting in a meeting.  And, like I thought, when I finished my conversation with my mom, thanking her for her care package I had received that day, I called her a viejita and she laughed and told me about how she teaches all the young girls how to dance.  She can last longer than they can on the dance floor.  She's not even out of breath.  She can play basketball and volleyball.  Ya quisieras, You wish, she said.

Funny how I knew.

Question 1

For a person you loved deeply, would be willing to move to a distant country knowing there would be little chance of seeing your friends or family again?  ...from...

Yes.  As a matter of fact, I already have.  Although it wasn't to a 'distant country' it was a long distance and across the country.  I'm a native Californian and I moved 3,000 miles away to live on the east coast with my husband.  It was an easy choice to make, but a difficult one to cope with at times.  I love my family, and the distance can bring great sadness and loneliness.  We keep in constant contact, but it isn't the same.  My dream is to be closer one day.  For now, it's okay.  But, I would most certainly make the move.  The person that I 'deeply love' would mean more for my future and happiness, and I could make a home where ever we were together.  I know that family is forever, and the opportunity to visit and speak is so easy these days.

What's going on?

Usually I write about my illnesses.  I write about the sweet blood, or the dying of my baby cells.  I don't think I can for a while.  It always hurts.  And I can always write you a page of digital pain.  But, you've heard it all before.  Infertility sucks.  You already have the book.  The bumper sticker, too.  You don't need to be constantly reminded.  Neither do I.  So, I'm left in a place where I need some sort of release.  I'm always feeling creative and I try really hard to express that daily.  Otherwise, I'll be eaten up from the inside out.  Writing has been a great source of release. 

Recently, I purchased a book called The Book of Questions.  I've decided that occasionally I will select questions from this book as an inspiration to talk about something a little different.  Feel free to comment and ask yourself the same question.  I find them to be quite interesting.

XO!

2006 is here

I thought that if I wrote something here about what I had been thinking about I just might remember to look back at the archives when I was trying to remember what I was thinking about during a rainy day like today.  I'm usually not one for new year's resolutions, mainly because I'm never good at keeping them.  Although, recently, I seem to have more reasons than none to get my shit together.  You see, I'm sick.  I'm very sick.  And, I keep denying it.  I keep pushing it away.  I keep it away because it's a reminder of the past.  Of the pain.  Of always losing.  But, I am, I'm sick.  I'm working very hard.  Okay.  I'm working hard.  Okay.  I'm trying to work very hard to get my life back under control.  It's difficult.  To say the least.

I was diagnosed with Diabetes (type 2) during my pre-op visit with Dr. K back in November of 2003.  I was about to have exploratory surgery to figure out what else could be going on after losing two babies.  It was a difficult blow.  As I sit here typing it now, it makes me cry.  I guess it's because I don't think I ever acknowledged what it meant.  How it made me feel.  How scared I was.  How scared I am.  That it meant another failure that my body dealt me.  That perhaps if someone would have looked before.  If they would have known before, back when the symptoms came and the borderline tests came about when I was a teenager.  Perhaps if they had done right by me, I wouldn't have lost those three babies.  Or maybe four.  I wouldn't be here crying in front of my blog desparate for help.  Desparate for it to all be a big nightmare.  I wish it could just go away.  And, for the past two years, I think I have been wishing that it would go away.  But I knew.  I knew that the sweet of my blood is slowly killing me.

So, before me I have a great task.  It is the task of saving me.  It's not about having a baby anymore.  It's not about that.  I know I want to be a parent.  I know that we will.  I'm not worried about that anymore.  I'm more worried about the rest of me that I've neglected all these years.  The neglected tears that I kept in the ducts.  The festering anger boiling below the skin.  The yelps I've lodged in my throat.

For this year, and forever after, I have the task of being kind to myself.  Of being good to my body.  I owe it a lot as it has suffered a great deal.  I have always known that my life has lacked balance.  Everywhere.  This balance I will seek, and with determination and all the help I can get, I will set about making this day the beginning of a new me.  One that chooses to live.  Longer.