And no, this post has nothing to do with the Soviet Union...
I'm talking about my little guy's congestion. Having a sick baby is tough. Having a sick baby when you're the only one around to rock him and hold him in the middle of the night is especially tough.
Max got his first cold right after JP's funeral. It was right after getting his first kiss and "snot-hawk" (ew, hopefully his only snot-hawk) from his first "girlfriend." It was the first first after JP died. And it was horrible. Neither of us slept. Not that I was getting much in the way of REM time those days anyway, but it was just awful - and when I would finally take him in bed with me so I could ensure that his head was propped up, he slept and I sat there worrying about him suffocating or falling off the bed.
When we were stocking up on medicine cabinet supplies while I was still pregnant, JP and I made a deal - I would man the rectal thermometer and he would be in charge of the snot-sucker. Because he wanted to get the Nose Frida, the one where you put a tube in your mouth and literally suck the snot out. It made me retch just thinking about it, and I popped a cheap-o bulb version in the basket just in case - I mean, I was the one staying home so inevitably I was going to need to do some clearing of the nasal passages. And it makes me sad and angry that now I'm the only one sucking snot (by the way, he was right about the Nose Frida being the way to go...)
I'm always going to get sad when Max has colds. It's always going to make me think of the few really bad colds JP would get every year. With all the traveling he did, and how infrequently he washed his hands (boy was that something I nagged about when we had a newborn in the house...), he had a fairly compromised immune system. I mean, he would get at least one cold each year that would have him in bed for days. Days! For a cold! And yet, he never let me take care of him beyond restocking and fetching G2. Or maybe some cough suppressant.
Time to go to my little man and try to figure out how the two of us are going to get some rest tonight...
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Intro
I'm not exactly sure where to start. My brain has not been functioning in the most organized manner for the past 5 1/2 months.
So I guess I'll just say that I have been thinking about the concept for this blog for a while now. And I still haven't quite nailed it down. What I do know is that it is going to be unfiltered. Please don't judge my grammar or spelling - I'm not editing myself.
I'm going to keep the intro brief. If you're reading this, you may already know me and know my story. If you don't, and you decide to follow this blog, you'll get to know me pretty well over time. But here are some of the basics: I'm 32, born and raised in MA. In 2003, I met JP at a Yankees game (what a place for two Red Sox fans to meet...). The first thing I said when I saw him was "I want that." Yes, I was quite the proper little lady at 23. After 5 years of dating, from long-distance to co-habitation, we married in a fairytale wedding on Cape Cod in 2008. In 2009, we adopted Maddy, a lovable and silly boxer. In July of 2011, our dream of creating a family together came true and we welcomed our son Maximos (yes, we both loved the movie Gladiator). And 7 1/2 months later, my world came crashing down around me when JP collapsed at work due to his heart giving out. Since that horrible night, I have been trying to pick up the pieces and focus on my "precious miracle," Max. I don't try to make sense of what happened. There is no sense to it. But I am doing my best to honor JP by giving Max the best life I can. And with the help of our friends and family, we're actually doing ok.
Now to define the term "Widow Mouth." Widow mouth refers to the complete obliteration of whatever filter one might have previously had between brain and mouth. And when one has gone through a trauma such as the sudden loss of a healthy, beloved spouse, there can perhaps be thoughts in that brain that should not be verbalized.
The phrase "widow mouth" was coined by my friend Erica, who also happened to be the first victim of my affliction. I actually have no recollection of it happening, but during the "reception" (which I'm sure I inappropriately referred to as the "after-party" a number of times - hey, it was in an Irish bar) after JP's funeral, I pretty much unleashed on Erica. Someone told me that I told her she brought "nothing positive" into my life, among other insults. This is a girl who is like a little sister to me. This is a girl who let me stay in her house when JP basically dumped me while I was en route to move to Chicago (for him) in 2006. This is a girl who always has had my back, no matter what. Oh, she has her issues and her flaws (many of which I pointed out to her and the whole table of my high school friends). But she did not deserve that tirade.
No one mentioned my outburst for a while. In fact, it wasn't until right before Erica was flying out to visit me at my parents' house that I heard anything about it. Two friends asked me if I had heard from her, or if she was still talking to me. My reaction was "yeah, she's visiting next weekend - why do you ask?" When they told me what I'd done, I immediately called Erica to apologize. She said, in her ever-cheerful matter-of-fact tone of voice, "oh, don't worry about it. You had widow mouth!"
And so the term came to be. And I have embraced it. Sure, I use it as an excuse at times, even if I don't realize I'm doing it. But as many who know me are aware, my filter has always been faulty, and now I just think that life is too short not to be honest. To some extent at least...
So here we are. I don't have a really clear idea of what I want to accomplish with this blog (other than using it as a jumping-off point for the bestselling, award-winning trilogy I plan on writing, naturally - think Hunger Games meets Twilight meets 50 Shades with a widow as the main character). I have Max to keep me smiling and focused on the positive, the future, and the amazing legacy left to me by JP. I have places where I vent to blow off steam. I have the letters I write to JP for therapy. I have bottles of wine and ladies' nights for all of the above. This blog will undoubtedly have some venting, some emotional...stuff, and lots of opinions on lots of different things...from going back to school to parenting to the Red Sox to various things I have gone through and learned about widowhood.
One thing that I can guarantee is that it will be long-winded, often repetitive, and I will probably drop a few f-bombs here and there.
Now it's time for me to sleep, but I look forward to seeing where this goes...
So I guess I'll just say that I have been thinking about the concept for this blog for a while now. And I still haven't quite nailed it down. What I do know is that it is going to be unfiltered. Please don't judge my grammar or spelling - I'm not editing myself.
I'm going to keep the intro brief. If you're reading this, you may already know me and know my story. If you don't, and you decide to follow this blog, you'll get to know me pretty well over time. But here are some of the basics: I'm 32, born and raised in MA. In 2003, I met JP at a Yankees game (what a place for two Red Sox fans to meet...). The first thing I said when I saw him was "I want that." Yes, I was quite the proper little lady at 23. After 5 years of dating, from long-distance to co-habitation, we married in a fairytale wedding on Cape Cod in 2008. In 2009, we adopted Maddy, a lovable and silly boxer. In July of 2011, our dream of creating a family together came true and we welcomed our son Maximos (yes, we both loved the movie Gladiator). And 7 1/2 months later, my world came crashing down around me when JP collapsed at work due to his heart giving out. Since that horrible night, I have been trying to pick up the pieces and focus on my "precious miracle," Max. I don't try to make sense of what happened. There is no sense to it. But I am doing my best to honor JP by giving Max the best life I can. And with the help of our friends and family, we're actually doing ok.
Now to define the term "Widow Mouth." Widow mouth refers to the complete obliteration of whatever filter one might have previously had between brain and mouth. And when one has gone through a trauma such as the sudden loss of a healthy, beloved spouse, there can perhaps be thoughts in that brain that should not be verbalized.
The phrase "widow mouth" was coined by my friend Erica, who also happened to be the first victim of my affliction. I actually have no recollection of it happening, but during the "reception" (which I'm sure I inappropriately referred to as the "after-party" a number of times - hey, it was in an Irish bar) after JP's funeral, I pretty much unleashed on Erica. Someone told me that I told her she brought "nothing positive" into my life, among other insults. This is a girl who is like a little sister to me. This is a girl who let me stay in her house when JP basically dumped me while I was en route to move to Chicago (for him) in 2006. This is a girl who always has had my back, no matter what. Oh, she has her issues and her flaws (many of which I pointed out to her and the whole table of my high school friends). But she did not deserve that tirade.
No one mentioned my outburst for a while. In fact, it wasn't until right before Erica was flying out to visit me at my parents' house that I heard anything about it. Two friends asked me if I had heard from her, or if she was still talking to me. My reaction was "yeah, she's visiting next weekend - why do you ask?" When they told me what I'd done, I immediately called Erica to apologize. She said, in her ever-cheerful matter-of-fact tone of voice, "oh, don't worry about it. You had widow mouth!"
And so the term came to be. And I have embraced it. Sure, I use it as an excuse at times, even if I don't realize I'm doing it. But as many who know me are aware, my filter has always been faulty, and now I just think that life is too short not to be honest. To some extent at least...
So here we are. I don't have a really clear idea of what I want to accomplish with this blog (other than using it as a jumping-off point for the bestselling, award-winning trilogy I plan on writing, naturally - think Hunger Games meets Twilight meets 50 Shades with a widow as the main character). I have Max to keep me smiling and focused on the positive, the future, and the amazing legacy left to me by JP. I have places where I vent to blow off steam. I have the letters I write to JP for therapy. I have bottles of wine and ladies' nights for all of the above. This blog will undoubtedly have some venting, some emotional...stuff, and lots of opinions on lots of different things...from going back to school to parenting to the Red Sox to various things I have gone through and learned about widowhood.
One thing that I can guarantee is that it will be long-winded, often repetitive, and I will probably drop a few f-bombs here and there.
Now it's time for me to sleep, but I look forward to seeing where this goes...
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