That was my first reason for the Facebook break. The second was I was tired of seeing everyone's perfect lives. I admit I completely fell into that trap of envy. I feel I am a very honest Facebook user. I try to share the good along with the bad. So when friends who were now "friends" were posting all their "Life is good" posts and photos with their gourmet beet salads that ALL of their children eat, I believed it. Ugh! I'm such a sucker. What did me in was a full blown meltdown on my part after seeing a friend post a nine day vacation kid-free for her anniversary. I didn't even get a night with my husband for our anniversary. No one would take my kids for even an evening. I called my mom, completely laid into her with no warning, tears sloshing down my face over a Facebook post. Now, I will admit, this was a good thing for my mom because it put into perspective just how much I do with my boys. She was shocked to learn that grandparents actually take their grandkids for weeks at a time. My boys don't have sleepovers at their grandparents, not my choice, not even for one night. I didn't want nine days away from my kids. My mom took them for a weekend. It was a much needed break and very good for my parents to bond like that with the boys. But I was ashamed. I allowed Facebook to send me into this deep pit of jealousy and self-pity. I was done.
OK, so a few months passed with no Facebook and it was quite nice. We had a nice, simple summer at the local pool, went to the beach one day, hit up the library quite a bit, and just hung out together. But, I had started watching Downton Abbey that I had borrowed from the library. I got through Season 1, then Season 2, and then the dreaded Season 3. I knew horrible things happen in season 3, but I had no idea how awful it would be. I watched, I cried, my husband thought me crazy. I went to Facebook to seek solace and wrote something to the affect of "I'm a little over halfway through Season 3 of Downton Abbey. <sniff, sniff> I know something bad is coming. How will I ever make it to the end?" Innocent enough, right? Out of nowhere I was verbally attacked by my husband's family's foreign exchange student from some twenty-odd years ago. I've met the girl once. She's from Russia, I think, but now lives in China, I think. I have never seen her post anything on Facebook. I didn't even realize I was friends with her. She wrote this biting comment about how she watches CNN and it makes her want to go to her medicine cabinet to overdose and isn't my life better than Downton Abbey. I quipped back that I wasn't making a comment on the quality of my life, simply that I happened to enjoy a television show. She suggested I switch shows to something that might make me feel better and help other people. HELP OTHER PEOPLE! The girl doesn't even know me! She doesn't know the work I do or the type of kids I work with!
See, God does send us signs and this one came in the form of some quack who lives on the other side of the world. I was on a Facebook hiatus again. So, since someone seemed to feel that I was an ungrateful little wretch because I happened to be wrapped up in a television show for one evening, please let me set the record straight, especially since I've been doing my fair share of bitching and moaning the past week or so writing this blog.
My first prayer for the month of September is a prayer of humble gratitude. You see, I live a good life. I am well-aware of it.
I once taught a group of particularly sensitive seventh graders. ALL seventh graders are sensitive, but this class was especially hard on each other and themselves. They were a special education group who were just that--very special, like diamonds in the rough special. I loved those kids. They were true, honest to the bone kids. Anyway, one day one little girl said something about another boy's mother because he said something about her hair. The entire class ganged up on this poor little girl whose life at home had very little affection. She was a military kid and her family was run just like that. She craved touch, affection, a mom who would braid her hair. She was well-cared for and loved, but not the kind she needed. The class couldn't understand how an insult to a person's mother was equivalent to an insult to a person's hair. And then we melted down. We talked about what it meant to this little girl (she had left the room) that her hair was unruly. How her hair symbolized the absence of affection at home. And then each kid talked about what hurt each one of them, from sexual harassment at age 13 to feeling stupid to being fat to being pressured to be in a gang. We cried a lot that day, but we learned that pain is pain whether it's about your hair or your mom or your brother being shot and killed. We learned that day to never diminish a person's struggles and pain. Sadly, most adults I know still don't understand that.
When I was pregnant with Eli it was discovered at his twenty week ultrasound that his kidneys were enlarged. The problem typically resolves itself after birth, but his never did. We were sent to St. Christopher's Children's Hospital in Philadelphia for a series of tests. Long story, short, the tests were inconclusive. We repeated the tests the first two years of his life, often being sent home because they couldn't get IV's in him and having to return weeks later to have him undergo sedation. The pediatric urologist told us at a year and a half that if anything serious were to result from his condition, it would be in the next year. We waited. We waited for a fever, for his diaper to stop being wet, for anything that would send us to the hospital for emergency surgery. It never happened. The group of urologists termed him a "mystery" and kept all of his ultrasounds and test results for review.
Something should have happened. Something should have gone wrong. Nothing did. Just a year ago his kidney started to appear "normal". We were in the clear. His urologist was very pleased and didn't want to see us again for eighteen months. Our relief was indescribable.
I think the worst comment someone can say to another is, "Well, at least you don't..." When we were going through this ordeal with Eli, someone said to me, "Well, at you don't have twins. So-and-so is going through the newborn phase times two." But that so-and-so also had two healthy babies. I didn't know if my baby was healthy or not. Our struggles are relative. At each of our visits to St. Christopher's I saw many, many children who were clearly unhealthy, much worse off than my baby. My heart broke for those families, but when it was just us alone in the room with Eli lying there still as death under deep sedation as the test ran its hour long scan, you're only struggle is what is there before you.
So, yes, I am an extremely grateful person for the life I have, and today I offer up to God my most extreme and heartfelt thanks for all the could have beens and should have beens that never were.
I once taught a group of particularly sensitive seventh graders. ALL seventh graders are sensitive, but this class was especially hard on each other and themselves. They were a special education group who were just that--very special, like diamonds in the rough special. I loved those kids. They were true, honest to the bone kids. Anyway, one day one little girl said something about another boy's mother because he said something about her hair. The entire class ganged up on this poor little girl whose life at home had very little affection. She was a military kid and her family was run just like that. She craved touch, affection, a mom who would braid her hair. She was well-cared for and loved, but not the kind she needed. The class couldn't understand how an insult to a person's mother was equivalent to an insult to a person's hair. And then we melted down. We talked about what it meant to this little girl (she had left the room) that her hair was unruly. How her hair symbolized the absence of affection at home. And then each kid talked about what hurt each one of them, from sexual harassment at age 13 to feeling stupid to being fat to being pressured to be in a gang. We cried a lot that day, but we learned that pain is pain whether it's about your hair or your mom or your brother being shot and killed. We learned that day to never diminish a person's struggles and pain. Sadly, most adults I know still don't understand that.
When I was pregnant with Eli it was discovered at his twenty week ultrasound that his kidneys were enlarged. The problem typically resolves itself after birth, but his never did. We were sent to St. Christopher's Children's Hospital in Philadelphia for a series of tests. Long story, short, the tests were inconclusive. We repeated the tests the first two years of his life, often being sent home because they couldn't get IV's in him and having to return weeks later to have him undergo sedation. The pediatric urologist told us at a year and a half that if anything serious were to result from his condition, it would be in the next year. We waited. We waited for a fever, for his diaper to stop being wet, for anything that would send us to the hospital for emergency surgery. It never happened. The group of urologists termed him a "mystery" and kept all of his ultrasounds and test results for review.
Something should have happened. Something should have gone wrong. Nothing did. Just a year ago his kidney started to appear "normal". We were in the clear. His urologist was very pleased and didn't want to see us again for eighteen months. Our relief was indescribable.
I think the worst comment someone can say to another is, "Well, at least you don't..." When we were going through this ordeal with Eli, someone said to me, "Well, at you don't have twins. So-and-so is going through the newborn phase times two." But that so-and-so also had two healthy babies. I didn't know if my baby was healthy or not. Our struggles are relative. At each of our visits to St. Christopher's I saw many, many children who were clearly unhealthy, much worse off than my baby. My heart broke for those families, but when it was just us alone in the room with Eli lying there still as death under deep sedation as the test ran its hour long scan, you're only struggle is what is there before you.
So, yes, I am an extremely grateful person for the life I have, and today I offer up to God my most extreme and heartfelt thanks for all the could have beens and should have beens that never were.
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