I had a post ready to share today. I was ready to dive back in to our second California trip- the first surgery in the care of Choc Hospital. I had started it a few days ago and it felt heavy and good. And then Sunday came and Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash.
I am not a fan of his. I have watched more basketball than I can count including him. I was a major Jordan fan, but he did do amazing things too. Now, I didn't play basketball. My opinion doesn't matter. What does, though- he died with his 13 year old daughter in a crash yesterday. He was only 41. Forty One. And that is both sad and hard. Last year I would have been crippled by this anxiety and fear that I talked about bravely keeping at bay, but the truth is last year was hard and I was trying to "fake it until you make it". I suppose that worked as January 2nd this year I felt the stress leave and I am me again. I guess it is true that time does heal all wounds and eventually you feel normal again whatever that is. In my case, normal is clear headed. Focused. Able to have hard conversations and not fall apart. That's the pre-Marley me. Strong.
Kobe was one year younger than my husband as was his daughter was one year younger than our oldest. They have four kids... and despite the controversial cheating years ago they appeared to have a great marriage. He seemed to love his family- he talked about being a good dad. That part I really resonate with, but unlike Kobe we most likely won't be traveling on our private helicopter anytime soon. I can't imagine their loss or being gone. I have lots of ideas of what the afterlife is like, but to not get to see my babies grow up into the amazing adults I hope they become is a devastating thought. I wouldn't know what all I'd miss out on, but they'd miss out on all the loud, embarrassing singing moments and goofiness that I am in front of them. They'd miss out on all the tears I cry for joy of their very existence on this earth. The moments they figure it out and laugh so hard we can't breathe. Those teensy thoughts still crush me that they happen and no matter how hard I try I can't bottle it up and keep it with me. I'll forget. Like marbles that turn blue and fall over the edge into the abyss like in Inside Out (Go watch now if you haven't seen it- I'll wait.....) they eventually disappear into the deep and we can try to cleave on to the feelings those days brought us.
The day we took Marley to her first surgery in California may have been one of the hardest days of my life. I didn't sleep. I was so all over the place, nerves and excitement. When I picked her up I knew it. She had a fever. We were leaving shortly to fly for five straight hours to Orange County California where she was having surgery at 6am the next morning. We left her in her pjs. She was so unhappy. We strapped her in her car seat and snuggled her back in her blanket. Grandpa prayed over us and we headed to the airport.
We pulled into the garage and Hubs backed into a parking space at the exact moment Marley vomits. The putrid smell filled the entire truck. It was everywhere. Marley starts crying so loud and screaming for me. We are leaving the truck for a week at the airport and that means it won't be ever smell the same again. I, kind of numb to the moment, tried to think how to fix this. I grab a diaper disposal bag and throw everything she threw up on in there and proceeded to shove it into my carry-on. She snuggles into me and I'm covered. I wipe off with a baby wipe and we head in.
Hubs pushes the stroller. The lines are now long and we have to wait. I am always crazy worried that my luggage goes over the 50lb weight limit, but it doesn’t. We get checked in after the longest line only to move to an even longer line for security. It's quite possible we may miss this flight. She's burning up. I don't have Tylenol and I can't give her ibuprofen since surgery is tomorrow. I can't put her down. I feel her diaper so full and I know she's leaked all over me. Hubs can't find his phone. He looks everywhere. Panic is rising in out throats and I am fighting off the fear that is palpable in my thoughts- there's no way she is having surgery tomorrow if she's sick. He looks at me with disbelief and says maybe this is a sign, that we shouldn't go. I know. I know. I tell him to go find his phone, the line is still so long. He comes back after forever- he had left it in the car. I am not leaving this line. I am not putting her down. I am going until someone tells me no.
Security is actually calm for me. I get to walk through the open metal detectors and I don't have to put her down. But, I forgot about him. When they ask me if there's anyone else with me I say no and leave him in the wake of the stroller and luggage. And that was a mistake. Strollers are complicated. Their buttons are hidden. They are impossible to collapse. And they MUST go through the xrays. Airports hate parents. That's all I can think as I only ever see it always go wrong for them, myself included... I wait on the other side helpless to the events. I have no idea how he gets it down. He walks past me and says "no one else, ey?". I'm on the verge of tears. I packed a mountain of almonds which always get flagged unless I remember to put them on the belt, which I forget. The smell from the vomit blankets is foul when the guard opens the bag and yes, the almonds were on the bottom. Out of my peripheral I see the same H trying to open the now closed stroller. He's loosing the battle.... and I am helpless as I watch my stuff no longer fit into the now overpacked carryon, covered in vomit and urine and holding a 25lb baby limp to me with a fever for the past hour or more and a collapsed stroller go FLYING across the airport terminal. I don't know how he did not get detained.
I can't carry my bag with all my stuff hanging out so I grab it still holding her and drag it to the side. I stare at the security guard who never takes his eyes off H and I say very loudly- she's having surgery tomorrow and we are so nervous and didn't sleep! H follows so angry behind me kicking the stroller the whole way.
When I get to the side I fall to my knees. I try to peel her off me and dig through my stuff to find the one clean spare outfit I packed. I get her undressed and she doesn't cry. But the once was a diaper in her pjs is now a pile of pee crystals and it goes everywhere. A few feet away stands a custodian and I can feel his "I kinda hate you” eyes glare at me and he walks on. I actually thought he may have been running away and leaving clean up on aisle 42 for someone else. I laugh at that thought. H is lost. He says should we be going and I stare at him and I can't believe what comes out, but it does: "Get behind me satan". I whisper I am going until someone comes up to me and says Do Not Go. I pray if I am to not that he says it plain as day.
Boarding has started, we are so late. H says he has to go to the bathroom and does while I stand there holding her again feeling the sticky of vomit on my fingertips. I smell bad. She smells sour. We board and I nestle down in my middle seat where I stay for the next five very long hours and don't move while she sleeps off her fever on me and doesn't wake up once.
To be continued.....
I am not a fan of his. I have watched more basketball than I can count including him. I was a major Jordan fan, but he did do amazing things too. Now, I didn't play basketball. My opinion doesn't matter. What does, though- he died with his 13 year old daughter in a crash yesterday. He was only 41. Forty One. And that is both sad and hard. Last year I would have been crippled by this anxiety and fear that I talked about bravely keeping at bay, but the truth is last year was hard and I was trying to "fake it until you make it". I suppose that worked as January 2nd this year I felt the stress leave and I am me again. I guess it is true that time does heal all wounds and eventually you feel normal again whatever that is. In my case, normal is clear headed. Focused. Able to have hard conversations and not fall apart. That's the pre-Marley me. Strong.
Kobe was one year younger than my husband as was his daughter was one year younger than our oldest. They have four kids... and despite the controversial cheating years ago they appeared to have a great marriage. He seemed to love his family- he talked about being a good dad. That part I really resonate with, but unlike Kobe we most likely won't be traveling on our private helicopter anytime soon. I can't imagine their loss or being gone. I have lots of ideas of what the afterlife is like, but to not get to see my babies grow up into the amazing adults I hope they become is a devastating thought. I wouldn't know what all I'd miss out on, but they'd miss out on all the loud, embarrassing singing moments and goofiness that I am in front of them. They'd miss out on all the tears I cry for joy of their very existence on this earth. The moments they figure it out and laugh so hard we can't breathe. Those teensy thoughts still crush me that they happen and no matter how hard I try I can't bottle it up and keep it with me. I'll forget. Like marbles that turn blue and fall over the edge into the abyss like in Inside Out (Go watch now if you haven't seen it- I'll wait.....) they eventually disappear into the deep and we can try to cleave on to the feelings those days brought us.
The day we took Marley to her first surgery in California may have been one of the hardest days of my life. I didn't sleep. I was so all over the place, nerves and excitement. When I picked her up I knew it. She had a fever. We were leaving shortly to fly for five straight hours to Orange County California where she was having surgery at 6am the next morning. We left her in her pjs. She was so unhappy. We strapped her in her car seat and snuggled her back in her blanket. Grandpa prayed over us and we headed to the airport.
We pulled into the garage and Hubs backed into a parking space at the exact moment Marley vomits. The putrid smell filled the entire truck. It was everywhere. Marley starts crying so loud and screaming for me. We are leaving the truck for a week at the airport and that means it won't be ever smell the same again. I, kind of numb to the moment, tried to think how to fix this. I grab a diaper disposal bag and throw everything she threw up on in there and proceeded to shove it into my carry-on. She snuggles into me and I'm covered. I wipe off with a baby wipe and we head in.
Hubs pushes the stroller. The lines are now long and we have to wait. I am always crazy worried that my luggage goes over the 50lb weight limit, but it doesn’t. We get checked in after the longest line only to move to an even longer line for security. It's quite possible we may miss this flight. She's burning up. I don't have Tylenol and I can't give her ibuprofen since surgery is tomorrow. I can't put her down. I feel her diaper so full and I know she's leaked all over me. Hubs can't find his phone. He looks everywhere. Panic is rising in out throats and I am fighting off the fear that is palpable in my thoughts- there's no way she is having surgery tomorrow if she's sick. He looks at me with disbelief and says maybe this is a sign, that we shouldn't go. I know. I know. I tell him to go find his phone, the line is still so long. He comes back after forever- he had left it in the car. I am not leaving this line. I am not putting her down. I am going until someone tells me no.
Security is actually calm for me. I get to walk through the open metal detectors and I don't have to put her down. But, I forgot about him. When they ask me if there's anyone else with me I say no and leave him in the wake of the stroller and luggage. And that was a mistake. Strollers are complicated. Their buttons are hidden. They are impossible to collapse. And they MUST go through the xrays. Airports hate parents. That's all I can think as I only ever see it always go wrong for them, myself included... I wait on the other side helpless to the events. I have no idea how he gets it down. He walks past me and says "no one else, ey?". I'm on the verge of tears. I packed a mountain of almonds which always get flagged unless I remember to put them on the belt, which I forget. The smell from the vomit blankets is foul when the guard opens the bag and yes, the almonds were on the bottom. Out of my peripheral I see the same H trying to open the now closed stroller. He's loosing the battle.... and I am helpless as I watch my stuff no longer fit into the now overpacked carryon, covered in vomit and urine and holding a 25lb baby limp to me with a fever for the past hour or more and a collapsed stroller go FLYING across the airport terminal. I don't know how he did not get detained.
I can't carry my bag with all my stuff hanging out so I grab it still holding her and drag it to the side. I stare at the security guard who never takes his eyes off H and I say very loudly- she's having surgery tomorrow and we are so nervous and didn't sleep! H follows so angry behind me kicking the stroller the whole way.
When I get to the side I fall to my knees. I try to peel her off me and dig through my stuff to find the one clean spare outfit I packed. I get her undressed and she doesn't cry. But the once was a diaper in her pjs is now a pile of pee crystals and it goes everywhere. A few feet away stands a custodian and I can feel his "I kinda hate you” eyes glare at me and he walks on. I actually thought he may have been running away and leaving clean up on aisle 42 for someone else. I laugh at that thought. H is lost. He says should we be going and I stare at him and I can't believe what comes out, but it does: "Get behind me satan". I whisper I am going until someone comes up to me and says Do Not Go. I pray if I am to not that he says it plain as day.
Boarding has started, we are so late. H says he has to go to the bathroom and does while I stand there holding her again feeling the sticky of vomit on my fingertips. I smell bad. She smells sour. We board and I nestle down in my middle seat where I stay for the next five very long hours and don't move while she sleeps off her fever on me and doesn't wake up once.
To be continued.....
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