When Maternity Leave is Over

Recently I attended a family birthday party.  The sister of the celebrant is a new mom.  She was there along with her beautiful six month old son.  Like me, she waited a long time to have this baby.  He is her first and was born after her fortieth birthday.  She and I were having an intimate discussion about the love you feel for your infant.  She told me that her maternity leave was nearly over and finances dictated that she return to work.  She explained how she came to choose which daycare center her son would attend.  I could see the pain in her eyes.  She bowed her head when she talked, lowered her eyes to the ground and sadly contemplated how on earth she was ever going to be able to leave him.  I felt my stomach wrench as I remembered the days when I was faced with making the same decision.

My due date was December 30, 2001.  I had calculated that I would go out on maternity leave before Christmas and return to work five months later at the end of May.  I was finally working for the Family Division in the Courts for the State of New Jersey after many years of trying to obtain a position.  Working for the government can be tricky.  It's fraught with mandatory job postings, multiple interviews, interdepartmental red tape, hiring freezes and, of course, politics.  I had actually been offered a position seven years earlier only to have it rescinded because of a lack of funding.  I was thrilled when the job finally came through.

My employer offered a twelve month maternity/paternity leave.  Since there is no salary after six weeks of disability pay and my husband and I had just moved into a new home, I could only afford to take five months of leave.  We started saving and put a hold on adding a stone paver walkway in the front, a patio or deck out back and some other personal touches.

The second trimester of my pregnancy was concluding on September 11, 2001.  By the time I was in the courtroom in Mercer County, NJ preparing my cases for that day, I knew of the plane crashes into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon.  I placed my hand on my belly and felt my baby moving inside of me.  For the first time, I experienced the fear of a parent for a child.  These insanely cruel events were unfolding sixty-five miles north and one hundred seventy five miles southwest from where I was sitting.  What the hell was going on?

Two weeks later I was hearing child support cases in the same Mercer County Courtroom when my water suddenly broke.  I was twenty six weeks pregnant.  I drove to the hospital in Pennsylvania where I had planned to give birth. My husband left his job and met me half way.  He and my mom sat bedside as the doctor confirmed that the water sac, or membrane, had completely ruptured.  After receiving a steroid shot to help the baby's lungs develop, I was transferred by ambulance to another hospital better equipped to care for babies born so premature.

My son was born on October 9, 2001 at twenty eight weeks, two days gestation.  He cried the sweetest most beautiful cry when he was delivered.  He weighed three pounds.  His condition was stable until he was about a week old and then his little lungs just got tired.  "Chronic lung disease" also known as "bronchopulmonary dysplasia" set in.  He was hooked up to supplemental oxygen.  The following weeks were awful.  It was especially hard when other parents who had been there as long as us started taking their babies home and our son was still struggling.  It was like a punch in the stomach reminding us that our little boy was still sick.

He finally came home from the hospital on oxygen December 21, 2001 after a seventy three day stay in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  He was discharged on oxygen, an oxygen monitor, an apnea monitor and several meds that I had to chart so I could keep track.  In truth though, I was no longer afraid.  I was so happy to have him home and I had been practicing his care for three months at the hospital.  My only requirement for peace of mind was to basically hold him all the time.  Sleeping with him beside me was a bonus I had never considered, but one I took to easily, resting my hand on his chest to feel him breathe.

By March and six months into my maternity leave, my son needed supplemental oxygen only at night while he slept.  My wonderful pediatrician and his brilliant RN and wife were always reassuring and complimentary of my parenting.  They had a tremendously positive effect in our lives.  With their guidance, we bravely weaned off of the monitors.  I slowly eased into an almost typical new baby experience.  The joy of having a newborn was finally mine.

I remember sitting on my bed with my son nestled against me reading "Goodnight Moon" before his nap time.  Then, I'd lay face to face with him on my bed and nurse him to sleep.  It was April and I would crack open a window in the bedroom and be surrounded  by the delicious aroma of spring air.  Almost always I noticed I would hear the sound of a small plane or a lawn mower off in the distance.    He usually fell asleep whenever I noticed the low, even droning of a motor in the background.  Often, I'd doze as thoughts of going back to work would creep into my mind disturbing my peace.  I didn't know how I could leave this fragile boy.  I didn't know how I could stay home and survive financially.

In July, ten months of maternity leave behind me, my son no longer needed oxygen!  The fireworks we enjoyed that summer took on a special meaning for so many.  My son's freedom from dependence on a machine was not lost on me as I watched sparkles of red, white and blue explode in the night time sky.

I was agonizing over what to do about my job.  I believed that we could not afford to stay in our home if we lost my income.  We were warned by doctors not put our son in daycare because catching a cold could have become life-threatening for him.  There was no part time employment available for me in my office.  Our families were unable to commit to providing full time day care.  We were uncomfortable with the idea of leaving him at home in a stranger's care.  There was no guarantee I would be rehired if I chose to resign.  I had waited so long for that job and my income was soon to reach six figures.  I was giving up a lot no matter what decision I made and I was frantic with worry.

Ultimately, I came to realize that the only answer for me was to stay home with my son.  I notified my office of my resignation with a heavy heart.  Though certain I had made the right choice, I experienced a sense of loss.  I never thought I would miss my professional self.  I was wrong.

I am left with a greater respect for all moms who are faced with the decision of what to do when maternity leave comes to an end.  I now understand why some moms need to return to their jobs even if finances are not an issue. Whatever the case may be, I for one, will be supportive and provide encouragement to all moms I know.  With either choice we make, a little bit of ourselves is left behind.  

A Blocked Blogger

I've heard of writer's block.  I was worried I may experience early on-set blogger block.  Chalk it up to a single remark made by someone who read my last post about dreams. "What's the point?"  To begin with, I was feeling a little unsure about that piece.  Add to that, I was not expecting that sort of a reaction.  I was unprepared to hear a churlish remark from someone I liked.  It was an emotional ambush and I lost.

I had asked this person to read my blog because I was feeling proud of myself.  In fact, earlier that day I had been feeling as happy as I remember feeling in a long time.  It was a combination of the lightness of youth, the exhilaration of being plugged in to the world and the satisfaction of being appreciated.  And I liked it!

For as much as I wanted to dismiss the comment, I thought about it as I drove home.  I tossed and turned that night mulling it over.  I woke up the next morning feeling like maybe I didn't have anything worthwhile to contribute after all.

This blog is important to me.  It may not ever be read by tons of people.  It may not be profound. So what if it doesn't ever provide me a segue into a much needed income?  I will continue to write it because it makes me feel good.  Somewhere along the line I heard a saying, "...don't act small because of the way they treat you when you act big...".  I probably mutilated that quote, but its meaning is clear and I need to learn from it.

I have a lot to say and the experience to back it up.  Until you hear a little bit more from me, don't underestimate yourself or anyone else.  It's still wonderful to be surprised.

Only In My Dreams

I went to lunch with some friends for a birthday celebration.  The birthday girl chose a local restaurant known for its sushi.  I am not a fan of sushi.  It's not that I am wary of adventure, it's this severe allergy to tilapia I've recently developed.  I have read that salmon and tuna along with tilapia are among a group of fish that adults like me are becoming allergic seemingly out of nowhere. My reaction was severe and probably had  something to do with parasites.  Enough said.

We had a lot of fun at lunch.  They enjoyed their meal and we laughed at my being frightened by the eel on their platter.  I declared my area a serpent-free zone.  Then one of my friends regaled us with a tale of a joke played on her in just such a restaurant when something ordered for her was served with its organs still functioning.  Yep.  That's what she said.  As a life long lover of all creatures, I could hardly stand it.

The morning after our lunch, I woke up with the vivid recollection of a dream of a blanched dolphin, white and still, being carved like a turkey and the pieces of meat being neatly arranged on a plate.  Then the animal blinked his eye.  I still shudder at the thought.

There have been times that after a hard relationship day when I am certain I have been the victor, I have a dream that my husband has met another woman and left me.  So instead of carrying my feeling of superiority into the the next day, I find myself contrite and apologetic.

I have experienced the death of  family members over and over again.  I wake up sobbing and then relieved that it had been just a dream.  There have been car accidents, kidnappings and abandonment themes with which I've had to contend.  It's terribly upsetting, yet I continue to knock them off.

About 20 years ago, I read a book about programming your dreams to help you work out challenges in your life. It was "Living Your Dreams" by Gayle Delaney.  http://www.amazon.com/Living-Your-Dreams-Problems-Enrich  There are easy step by step instructions to follow at bedtime.  It was truly cool and it really worked.  Nothing psychedelic required. Since we are the author of our dreams, casting characters and dialogue, we are the best candidates for deciphering their meaning. Possibly something for me to look into so I can stop tormenting myself as I sleep.

Every once in a while, though, even I can have something kind of nice come out of an otherwise disturbing dream.  Most recently, I was on a fishing boat with my brother and some friends.  Somehow, I kept getting left behind on little islands where we would stop to catch blue claw crabs and things.  I was chasing after the boat with my fishing gear tangled around me.  Suddenly, a very nice looking guy, tanned and shirtless stopped to give me a hand.

The next day for me was spent being a little bit contrite and apologetic.

Anxious about Autism...Again

Yesterday was hectic.  It began by my 7 year old being in intense pain with the onset of his second ear infection.  The first had just resolved after 6 weeks, 5 doctor appointments and 5 prescriptions.  I was scheduled to volunteer at the elementary school's semi-annual bookfair at 8:40 AM.  I administered ibuprofen to my boy and waited.  By the time it kicked in (that stuff is miraculous) and I knew he could go to school we headed out, but we were late.  It was just 25 minutes, but the stage was set for an off day.

At 1:15 PM as I was leaving, my volunteer duties completed, I was called aside by a therapist at the school.  She works with my 10 year old who is on the Autistic Spectrum.  This therapist is someone I trust.  We have been collaborating for 5 years on my son's behalf.  He has always been mainstreamed and his issues have been pretty much text book for his disorder.

As his 4th grade school year winds down, I was asked to think about our upcoming meeting to discuss 5th grade and how it would affect the transition to middle school.  She mentioned something about him being placed in the Autistic Support Program in middle school and from that moment, I didn't hear anything else she said.  My mind started racing.  "What?"  "Why would we do that?"  "But, wait, he's always been in regular classes."  "Is he getting worse?"  "Oh, no."  "Please, no."

Despite my ability to advocate for services, for several years after his diagnosis at age 3 1/2, I did not say the words Autism or Asperger's.  I just couldn't.  In fact, if any family member, educator or therapist tried to give me information on the disorder I would become overwhelmed with anxiety. Usually, these situations would send me fleeing in the direction of home to safety.  Any plans I may have had would have to be postponed or cancelled.  Forget about laundry, cooking, grocery shopping and the rest of it.  It was a bad place and a bad time.  And I thought it was totally behind me.

I had a lunch date yesterday afternoon with a good friend with whom I volunteered at the bookfair.  She was very accommodating and after I told her about the conversation with the therapist, she happily accompanied me to my house and we ordered take-out.  Ah, sweet safety.

Later,  I secured a last minute appointment at the doctor for my 7 year old's ear infection.  When I got there, I realized I had forgotten my purse with my insurance information and credit cards so I had to call my husband to bring it to me.  

I missed my yoga class last night at 7.

Thank goodness days like this don't happen very often anymore.  Overall, I made it to the doctor appointment.  I touched base with a friend who is also an autism parent.  I took good care of my boys.  I slept pretty well last night.  I think I did a little bit better.

A beginning

There's so much to say about so many things that a blog is what I need to do.  I start by saying that I am a mom of two boys, 7 and 10.  My 7 year old is a typically developing child and my 10 year old has mild autism spectrum disorder.  All things children are ok for today.  I am grateful.

I am a wife.  I have been married for 12 years.  I have learned much about myself through navigating my marriage.  Some of what I learned didn't surprise me and some shocked me.

I am unemployed.  I say that because I have been interviewing for jobs both in and out of my field for 4+ years even though I last worked full time in 2001.  I had been working for the State of New Jersey when my first son was born and I was unable to return as I had planned because he was premature and needed me to be home.  I wanted to return to my job.  Last September 1st, Governer Chris Christie enacted legislation to prevent people from outside of the state from being employed there unless they agree to move into New Jersey within one year of being hired.  Unfortunately, I was not hired back before the law took effect.   Frustrating.

Those are the highlights of the current events in my life.  Some good days and some bad.  I hope to grow through this blog by sharing about my life in the areas mentioned.  Hope you can identify with this Little Bit.