My father is in the hospital right now. It’s always so awkward for me to see him in there.
My dad had a heart attack at 44. One day at work, he said he had a little indigestion and was gonna leave to go home. There were EMT’s at his work at the time. He worked in the executive offices of a printing publishing company, that had a factory downstairs. Thank God they were there. One doctor at the hospital, later that day, remarked that if he had tried to go home, we’d be at a funeral home instead of a hospital. You gotta love the bedside manner of some of these guys.
It was so massive, he had to have quad. bypass. Unfortunately for him, he had inherited a bad heart from his father, and he was a smoker himself. He was now diagnosed with congestive heart failure and heart disease. They told him that he had the heart of a 70-year old. Anyway, this was the summer of ’98 and since then, he’s had trouble on and off, but for the most part is okay. Until this week, his CHF was acting up, and he had too much fluid around his heart. They got him to the ER late Thursday night and worked on that by giving him steroids. He had a bad reaction to them and started vomiting, got hives, it apparently wasn’t pretty.
So, all of this goes on and tests are run. Turned out he’s now diabetic, and will have to go on insulin. Because his heart is doing so badly, other parts are starting to be affected, and they think his pancreas is shot. After eating, after not, no matter when they’ve tested him, he hasn’t come down below 350. I know that can’t be good. Once yesterday, they had to draw blood because the meter couldn’t handle the reading. His blood sugar was 598. And he has diabetic neuropathy. My dad is only 51, I didn’t expect for him to be going through all this so young. I know I’m lucky to have my father around, but I also want him around in the future.
There’s nothing I want more than to have my father around for my kids, to have him teach my husband “Dad” stuff. My dad was so great, always involved in our lives, always interested in what we were doing. He was always involved in the parenting, and in taking care of us. I respect and admire him for that. I hope I inherited at least a little bit of his parenting style. If I can be as good of a parent as my dad has been, then I think I’ll be okay.

How we got here

I’ve been one of those women. You know the type. They nuture their little siblings, their friends in school growing up. They babysit constantly and talk about their “someday” families. Once they reach adulthood, they can’t wait to be mothers. They are told by everyone what a great mother they’ll make.

Society may tell them to go to school, get a career, and they do. However, their desire for motherhood never wanes. They meet a wonderful man and fall in love. Soon after, they get married. They start trying to have a baby. It’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s a little nerve wracking. That was us, before. We continued trying, but decided to seek help because of some issues we have. We were soon told that our chances of having a biological child of our own were less than 3% without some course of treatment.

The best chance of course, is IVF. So we look into it. We get excited about the finally, the possibility of having a child. Then we see the price tag, and we know it’s sadly out of reach. So, we start saving, and trying less effective treatments. We pray, we wait, we visit doctor after doctor, only to have more heartache.

So, three years later, 2 miscarriages later, here we are. I’m asking for your help. Anything. I’m hoping that I can find a way to raise this money in the next ten days. Because I have to know I tried everything. Because taking advantage of this grant situation, and the time crunch it presents may be our only shot.

Because I am one of those women, destined to be a mother.

Mothers day trauma

It’s after midnight. I’ve made it through another mothers day. There was no tantrum, no sobbing. It was a pretty subdued day, I cleaned, you can tell I had stress built energy to waste. My house is organized and I’m ready to make a LOT of phone calls tomorrow. I have to spend the next ten days trying with everything inside of me to make this work. I don’t care if I’m finnagling* and wheeling and dealing until the very last moment. Because then, if we still can’t afford to do it, at least I know I tried. And if we can’t do it, I want to be able to look back years from now and know I did everything I possibly could.