What Changes?

Two nights ago, I had a dream where my dad announced to the family that he was leaving my mom.  Then he promptly stormed out of the house, taking nearly everything with him.  In real life, my parents have been married for over 40 years.  I literally have no idea how "happily" they've been married, since we're not very close and those kind of topics have never come up, but they are still married.

Last night, something else (probably on the television) sparked the topic of divorce in a conversation with Scott, the very handsome man who I introduced in my last post.  We talked about the scary fact that at least half of all people who get married will also get divorced.  We discussed the un-fixable problems that come about only after saying "I do."  We talked about how to protect ourselves from these by continuing the incredible honesty and trust that we have with each other.
And then we questioned--how do these people not know?  How do they not see/ignore the problems before getting married?  How does this happen to so many unsuspecting couples?  We both admitted that at this point, we don't imagine anything other than being very happily married until one or both of us dies.  But most everyone must feel like this before they get married.  What changes?

If anyone has experience with divorce and has any clues for us, we're very curious.  In fact, so curious, that I may explore marital counseling as a career option.

Mountains

I am going to the Mountains.  The actual mountains, big ones, in Colorado.  I've never been, and I'm very excited.  Mostly I am excited to take a vacation--I am very fortunate to have parents who live nearby and are willing to corral/feed/bathe my wild child while I'm gone--and it is very, very good to take a break once in a while.  The Colorado part...meh.  

Let me introduce you to my significant other:  my best friend for four years before we started dating, a professional massage therapist AND bartender, very handsome, pretty much amazing at/knows a lot about everything...and is head over heels in love with snowboarding in the mountains.  He has wanted to live in CO his entire life and made sure I knew that right away when we became an item.

Myself:  his best friend for four years prior, loves massages and cocktails, interested in handsome men, has a lot of questions about everything...and is head over heels in love with HOT weather places.  Never have I ever been interested in snow, winter sports, mountains, winter clothing, or anything related.

MY kind of mountains, in Hawaii.

So, the debate has started.  Where do we move after we get married?  Texas, near my family?  California, where I love to vacay?  Phoenix, near my best friend?  Maybe.  Colorado, his dream home?  Hopefully not.  So far, I've put it to him this way:  If we move there, you'll never want to leave.  So maybe we should save it for our retirement place when we don't have small children, and we can live somewhere warm first. It usually makes for interesting conversations, sometimes involving tears.

Next week, we are attending a wedding at Loveland Pass.  Again, very excited for the vacation.  I'm also interested to see what I think of the area.  I have a really negative attitude toward it--cold all year, inconvenient driving conditions, stoned hippies wandering the streets--this trip will either confirm my fears or completely turn me around.  Hopefully the latter, since it looks like I may end up there someday whether I like it or not.

Terrifying

When Sophie was in the NICU, someone introduced me to CaringBridge.  It's like a blog, meant for updating friends and family on people who are ill, injured, etc.  I kept Sophie's site up for much longer than I needed to, well after she was home and healthy (in fact, it's still there but I haven't updated since 2009).  www.caringbridge.org/visit/sophiemarielightfootprice

Since that time, there have been several other kids who I have been following, kids who are chronically ill, kids who have died tragically after long and difficult diseases, kids who have recovered and gone home.  Last week, one of them became very, very sick.
www.caringbridge.org/visit/melanie
Little Melanie is in the ICU and running out of options.  The last effort for her will be to go on "ECMO," a machine that I was very much afraid of in the NICU.  It is life-support for the heart and lungs, and not many people come off of it the same as they went on, if they come off at all.  I have never met Melanie or her family, but have been thinking about her throughout the day all week.  I just can't imagine going through that with a child.
Going through long-term intensive care is terrifying.  So many scary things happened with Sophie, and there were several moments that I was sure would be her last.  As terrible as it was, I imagine it is much much worse for Melanie's parents.  Melanie is a little girl, not a baby.  When it was happening to Sophie, I didn't even know her yet--I had never talked with her or even held her.  She was unconscious and paralyzed for most of the first two weeks of her life.  It just breaks my heart to think of what this family is going through.

By some crazy miracle, Sophie is fine.  Even her lungs, the weakest of preemie organs, are fine.  She had pneumonia last week, and was FINE.  It's insane the way her body healed itself and grew normally after starting out at 13 ounces.  I don't worry much about her health anymore.
I do worry about future babies though.  I'll be 30 very soon, so I have a limited number of years left to have them.  We definitely want another child.  I know that I will probably always have tiny babies, that's just the way it is.  But what if the next one isn't as strong as Sophie?  I'm worried that it's incredibly selfish and ridiculous to even try.

The Worst Part

This has got to be the worst part of getting older.  Death slowly creeps into our lives, and falls on people closer and closer to our own ages.  It is no longer just grandparents.  In the past few years, I have had two friends lose their fathers, lost an aunt myself, and now Nate Dogg.  Only 41, and the victim of two strokes.  With celebrities, it's not like I can even really claim to be that distraught about it since I obviously have never met them.  I think it is just disturbing to know that it is not so far off.

Perforation

There are definitely some things that I will miss about my 20's.  It's not like my 30th birthday will be an actual, concrete line with one life on the 20's side and an entirely different life on the 30's side...More like a dotted line.  Yes, I guess I feel like my life might be gently perforated into two different time periods.

Things I will miss:
-getting carded.  It just keeps getting less frequent.
-my 23 year-old body.  Not a teenager anymore, not quite a "grown" woman yet.
-prank calling.  I practically made a career out of this, and it makes me sad that it just doesn't seem appropriate anymore.
-vacations.  Santa Cruz, Dallas, Galveston, Chicago, Washington DC, Phoenix, Hawaii, all so much FUN and obligation-free!
-being a student.  I might go back to Grad School someday, but...I really love everything about being an undergrad--being on campus, going to class instead of work...
-being a non-parent.  Moms aren't supposed to think that, and we're definitely not supposed to say it.  But honestly there are some moments when I really miss the freedom and quiet of not having a 3-year old attached to my person at all times.  Rare moments, like during a tantrum, but yes they happen.
-being the same age as the cast of Friends.
-eating fast food without consequences.

Things I will NOT miss:
-being mistaken for a teenager.  I (very fortunately, thanks to good skin genes) look pretty young, but it got to be especially annoying when I would hear, "You're too young to have a baby!"  How rude.
-dating.
-thinking I was fat when I was actually underweight.
-my careers as a retail manager and a waitress.
-not knowing how to cook.
-drinking bad beer and white zinfandel.

Getting Closer...

I knew I was closer to 30 than to 29 when...

I realized I get more excited for my Food Network magazine than my Cosmopolitan.

I spent two hours printing and clipping grocery coupons, then organizing them according to store layout.

I started consistently choosing The Office over Sex and the City.

I was mildly horrified last night when I realized it was past 1am and I was not in bed yet.

I permanently moved the entire V.C. Andrews collection to the "neglected" bookshelf.

I started a new job, where I'm convinced that my (PhD) supervisor is at least three years younger than me.

I stopped getting excited for the mail to come.

I felt awkward even thinking about shopping at Wet Seal...I was a manager there for years, and always thought it was weird when middle-aged women shopped there...

I decided I might be too old to dress up for downtown St. Paul St. Patrick's Day...maybe not...but maybe.

It's going to be Huge.

I have a feeling that my life will be changing dramatically in the near future.  At least, I hope so.  I am hopeful for a lot of changes in the next few years, but there's a big one coming up soon.  This May, I will graduate with a B.S. in Psychology.  Finally.  It took me eleven years, three different periods of enrollment at two schools, an super-extended maternity leave, and a lot of work to complete a stinkin' four-year degree.  I wonder if graduating at 29 is even more exciting than at 22?  The sense of accomplishment, finally finishing as a single mother, is going to be huge.

Now, for the changes:

I'm hoping to create some designated free time.  Maybe this will come naturally with Sophie getting older & more independent, or with a lack of homework.  Time to read the growing list of books I have my eyes on, time to take walks, time to clean and organize.  I want to go back to the volunteer position at Children's Hospital that I ditched because it was upsetting.  I want to continue blogging, even if it's to a minimal audience...I love to write, and I hope that at least one person is comforted/inspired/anything by something that I say.

I need some new friends.  Not that there’s anything wrong with the friends I have, I just need some more.  So, for the first time, I have reached out to my “online friends.”  They are in fact not friends at all (yet?), since I have never met them or spoken to them, or heck, even seen them in real life.  They are a number of bloggers who I have been following for years…silently….creepily?  These are women who have really honestly entertained/humbled/inspired me, and I figured it’s time they knew it.  Some of these blogs are hugely popular, and I don’t actually expect for many authors to respond to my meek comments left anxiously and haphazardly on their most recent posts…but, maybe.  More than anything, I just wanted to thank them.

I want to get married&haveababy&move.  I have no doubt that all three will happen in the next couple of years, but...I need to gather my thoughts on the best order...I have extreme anxiety about having a baby anywhere but Children's Minneapolis, but I so badly want to move.
To Arizona.
And soon.

Confessions of a Single-Mother

Not that I claim to have it any more difficult than married-mothers, but there are definitely some parts of my life that are unique to being a single parent.  It's usually great to be the sole decision-maker and the center of Sophie's world, but it's also...Exhausting.

-When we play hide and seek, I sometimes hide very well.  Like, under the covers in my bed so that I can close my eyes for a couple of minutes.
-I alternate between feeling proud of myself for raising a confident, competent daughter on my own and feeling embarrassed and inadequate about not having a husband.
-There are a LOT of financial benefits available to single parents.  Especially low-income single parents who are also full-time students and who are parents to disabled children.  (*Even though Sophie is perfectly healthy and normal in her development, Social Security considers anyone born under 1500 grams to be "disabled."  **She weighed 380 grams!)
-I wonder all the time, at what age should I tell her what I really think of her dad?  He only visits her 8 hours per week, and I'd like to eventually change that to zero hours per week.
-Trying to date when you have a child can be awkward.
-Being a single mom is the hardest for me when Sophie is sick.  I wallow in self-pity and frustration that there is no one who is equally obligated to clean up vomit or other bodily explosions.  Also a lot of frustration when I miss school to stay home with her, and then again when I catch her germs.
-I get just as excited for Sophie's class on Wed. nights as she does--the parents get to go into a separate room for a whole hour!  Time to sit still, drink tea, and watch the kids through a two-way mirror.  It's a nice break.
-I'm not sure if it's funny or depressing that the people in her dollhouse are labeled "Baby," "Girl," "Mommy," and "The Man."
-I will never, ever, ever get tired of hearing "I love you" from Sophie.

Mommy of a Micro-Preemie

Now, in an effort to hook some readers introduce myself, I will unashamedly share the most intense and sensational story of my twenties (so far!):  The extremely premature birth of my daughter, Sophie.

     

     At 25, I finally graduated from community college and transferred myself to a real college.  A University...a big one, too.  So proud of myself for being "grown-up" and "responsible," really "getting things done."  On my 3rd day of school, I received a different kind of label:  Pregnant.  I really am sorry, Soph, but I was pretty ticked.  This was not part of the plan.  Of course, the frustration quickly turned to excitement.  Pregnancy came pretty easy--built in exercise walking around school, an excuse to stop at McDonald's for a vanilla shake & fries whenever our little hearts desired, and the fun of feeling her tiny little limbs poking around in my growing belly.

     In June I went on a two-week road trip.  Pretty uneventful, a good time with family in Texas.  However, when I got home I was 23 weeks pregnant and something was...wrong.  Very wrong.  After an ultrasound detected that my water had sneakily broken without telling me, I escorted myself to the local hospital with the best (really!) NICU just next door at Children's.  I was instructed to lay low, and hang out in bed for 4 1/2 months until I reached full-term.  

     A short two hours after being admitted to the long-term labor/delivery ward, a mass of people entered the room and someone announced, "We need to do a C-section right now."  And so, despite the look of horror/confusion/terror/"is this a joke?" on my face, I was ushered into the OR and little Sophie was quickly removed from her dried-out home.  

The Basics:

1.  13 ounces.  Yes, ounces.  That is what she weighed when she was born at 23 weeks and 4 days.

2.  If you're familiar with the Apgar Scale, let's just say that Sophie failed miserably.  Like, she really wasn't expected to live.

3.  The NICU doctors' guesses:  Sophie had a 10% chance of surviving, and if she did live, she would be extremely handicapped--both physically and mentally.

4.  In October, I brought my five-month old baby home with me for the first time.  She has been in near-perfect health ever since.  Really.  No delays, no illnesses, nothing more extreme than a cold.  
5.  She is a miracle.

Then,

And now.

The Countdown

Welcome!  I love blogs.  I love to spend my free time reading, love dissecting and learning from different writing styles, and especially love eavesdropping on other people's lives.  I also love writing--letters, school papers, even empirical articles.  And let me tell you, this makes my life a lot easier since I have been forced to write a LOT of papers for this degree thing I'm pursuing.
I've been mildly contemplating starting a blog of my own for a long time now, pretty much ever since I found out there was such a thing as a "blog."  I got a taste of it while writing posts on caringbridge.org, but since that ended, I have run into a huge obstacle...My Life Is Not Very Interesting.  This week, however, I had two revelations.
     1.  In six months and fifteen days, I will turn THIRTY.  Now, I am fully aware of what year it is, what month it is, usually even what day it is.  Somehow, though, I had shoved this fun piece of info. way back in my brain a long time ago and just. ignored. it.  Maybe to avoid outright panic, or in an effort to save my liver from wallowing in several glasses (bottles) of wine.  Anyway, it hit me the other day with such a start that I sat up in bed at 7:00am...like someone just told me for the first time that I have a 30th birthday approaching.
     2.  Since I think my life is so uninteresting, wouldn't assigning myself to write about my life be fantastic incentive to make it more interesting?  So, in an attempt to put the spark back in my own life, I have decided to document the last six months of my twenties.  And to make it worth writing about!