Category Archives: guilt

October 31, 2013 · 8:52 am

Our Kryptonite

Today, Dylan’s having a Halloween parade at school. They’re supposed to dress up as a character from a book and bring the book to school for writing and reading projects. Of course, I thought it would be awesome if Dylan dressed up like Pete the Cat, Flat Stanley, or Fly Guy so I could flex my Crafty Mama muscles. Of course, Dylan didn’t think any of those ideas were awesome at all. He’s wearing his Man of Steel costume because we have a book about Superman.  (Of course.)

Man of Steel

Anyway, the kids get to wear costumes to school, and at 1pm, they’ll parade around the school property while parents line the street and cheer. Standing in the parking lot at school in the middle of the day to watch my child run around in a Halloween costume is one of the perks of being a stay-at-home mom (or, in my case, a still-at-home mom. But make no mistake. It’s also a requirement. Let’s face it, stay-at-home moms are supposed to be at the Halloween parade.

At about 10pm on Monday night, I realized I made an appointment to bring Harry to the vet on Thursday around the same time as the Halloween parade. Unless I changed the appointment, I’d have to miss the parade. I called the vet first thing the next morning to try to change it, but I couldn’t. He was booked solid all week.

The thing is, this is a really important appointment. Mike and I are bringing Harry to our longtime beloved vet in Miami – a man with whom we’d trust our own lives – to have an open and honest conversation about Harry’s quality of life and, frankly, what the hell to do next. We have to go, which means I have to miss the parade, which is valid and rational decision. But still, I feel horrible.

I waited for the right moment to break the news, which ended up being yesterday morning in car on the way to school. Maybe it was because of sleep deprivation (Harry has us up several times each night), because I got my period (damn period!), or because I felt so guilty, but I worked myself up into a frenzy. I held back tears as I told him I wouldn’t be at the parade.

I apologized profusely. “I hate that I’m going to miss the parade,” I said, “and I’m so, so, so sorry.” Then, I scolded myself. “I can’t believe I made Harry’s appointment on the same day as your parade!” Then, I apologized again.  “I’m so, so, so sorry.” Then, I promised that other moms would stand in. “I called your friends’ moms, and they’re going to cheer for you.  I promise!” Then, I held back more tears.

Damn period!

Silence.

“Are you upset?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

More silence.

I was the worst mom on the planet. I wouldn’t be at the Halloween parade to catch his smile and return his wave.

Then, he giggled and asked, “Do you think people will throw candy at us at the parade?”

“Dylan, did you hear anything I said? I can’t go to the parade tomorrow and I feel terrible. Are you upset?”

“No, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s okay, Mommy.  Really.” And then, “There’s a lot of traffic this morning, isn’t there?”

He’s fine. It’s okay. Really. There’s a lot of traffic. 

I’ve been every kind of mom on the Guilt Spectrum. I’ve walked out the front door without looking back only to lose my breath when it hit me that I had the audacity to do it.  I’ve held back tears in meetings at the thought of someone else soothing my child. I’ve snapped my baby to my chest on a day off to meet an unexpected deadline.  I’ve yelled, “I WILL do a puzzle with you, but NOT until I respond to this email!” I’ve sat at a desk and wondered, What the hell am I doing? I’ve quit because my mental health was at stake. I’ve missed bedtimes and felt horrible.  I’ve wished I could miss bedtimes and felt horrible. I’ve thought to myself, What a waste of my talent and potential. And now, I’ve chastised myself over a parade.

Let me tell you something. Wherever we fall on the Spectrum – and the possibilities are infinite – we’re all capable of feeling guilt – from the ordinary to the extraordinary and from the regular to the ridiculous. It’s our Kryptonite. We all feel bad whether we can go, should go, would go, or wish we could but can’t go to the Halloween parade. Do you know what else? We’re all good moms. And here’s the kicker. The kids are just fine.

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Filed under guilt, Halloween, motherhood, Stay-at-Home Mama

December 12, 2012 · 2:36 pm

Five, Four, Three

Nothing gets my adrenaline flowing, heart pumping, and anxiety surging like a good old-fashioned health scare.  During the holidays.  A week before my tenth anniversary getaway.  When I’m frantically putting holiday cards in the mail, wrapping and shipping gifts, obsessively shopping for a bathing suit that makes me look five ten pounds thinner (haven’t found it yet!), and prepping the house for my parents’ 12 day visit, including the five days when Mike and I will be away.

A week ago, my doctor informed me that the ultrasound on my thyroid showed a solid mass on the right side.  She went on to say that it’s common, it’s small, don’t worry, these masses are almost never malignant…but all I heard was solid mass.  Solid.  Mass.

What happened next probably won’t surprise you.  I panicked.  The past week has been long and exhausting, but I have some answers and some peace of mind.  My anxiety level is still high, but some of that might be due to (1) packing (must pack light…must have options!) and (2) guilt (my boys will never survive five nights without me…they’ll never forgive me…I’m a rotten, selfish mother…you get the idea).

Here are some thoughts on my thyroid (and a few other things):

I overreact when it comes to my health.  I’m helpless to stop the Crazy train that leaves the station when something appears to be wrong, but I also know that waiting, putting off, and ignoring can be bad, too.  There must be a balance – a way to feel concerned but calm – but I haven’t found it.

I’m loved.  Within 24 hours of hearing the words “solid” and “mass,” I had a list of a dozen endocrinologists I could call.  My friends and family went above and beyond to help me.  (Grateful Mama!)

Speaking of endocrinologists, they are a tough bunch with which to get an appointment.  On my first round of calls, the soonest appointment I could get was January 17, 2013.  (That’s next year!)

It’s just as hard for me to ask for a favor as it is for me to take a compliment.  My friend’s father is an endocrinologist.  Calling her to see if his office could get me an appointment quickly (before my trip and, perhaps more importantly, before I imploded from anxiety) was really hard for me to do.  Really hard.  I hope if something like this ever happens again, I’ll know that I’m worthy of such a favor.  I also hope I’ll have the chance to someday pay it forward.

I have good doctors (and health insurance).  I’ll never forget sitting in the gynecological oncologist’s office seven years ago and being told that the cancer from a molar pregnancy was 100% curable as long as it was treated quickly.  If not, the cancer in the uterus could jump to the liver, lungs or brain.  (I sometimes forget how scary that experience was.)  I couldn’t help but think about how some women – without the quality of care I had – might have suffered a much worse outcome in the same situation.

At 10:30 this Monday morning, I sat across from a highly regarded endocrinologist and got the care and reassurance I needed about my thyroid.

Lots of people – especially women – have cysts and/or solid nodules on their thyroids.  Most of them are insignificant.  Thyroid cancer is possible, but it’s rare.  It’s also curable if caught early.  I have a small solid mass on my thyroid.  Maybe it’s been there for ten years.  Maybe it’s been there for ten days.  In three months, I’ll have a repeat ultrasound to check for changes in shape or size.  If it grows, they’ll consider a needle aspiration biopsy, but for now it’s too small to be of medical concern.

Speaking of which, I saw my hematologist this morning (another day, another doctor’s appointment).  Good news here, folks.  My platelets have stabilized so I can wait four months until they draw blood again and reminded me that my body chemistry is a little bit crazy…just like me.  We talked briefly about my thyroid situation and then about my recent colonoscopy.  I told him the one I had in October was clean.  “But there was a polyp the first time, right?” he asked.  “Yes,” I said.  “And colon cancer runs in your family?” he asked.  “Yes, on both sides,” I said.  “You really need to stay on top of that,” he said.  “I know,” I said.  “Once your body makes a polyp, you become a polyp-maker,” he said.

I am, indeed, a polyp-maker, and a nodule-maker, too.  In five years, I’ll have another colonoscopy.  In four months, I’ll head back to the hematologist.  In three months, I’ll have an ultrasound of my thyroid.  In five days, I’ll set sail on a cruise, and if I’m lucky fortunate, all I’ll worry about is how much I miss my boys.

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Filed under anxiety, Grateful Mama, guilt, health, molar pregnancy, packing