It was not the only time I have been asked a similar question. My dearest and longtime friend, Lorrie, has posed that same question (minus the alcohol part) to me many times through the years. She is the devoted mother to two beautiful daughters, so the idea of five feels rather daunting to her. My answer to the question varies depending on the moment. Often I say, "I can't imagine it any other way; it just feels normal." Other times, a different, but equally truthful, answer comes to mind: "I focus my attention on the one who needs me most at the time, and the others sorta take care of each other."
That's how it's been this past week. Focusing on the one who needs me most at the time.
Newlyweds Eli and Amanda have been blessed with the most wonderful opportunity. Amanda landed an incredible job as an apartment manager at The Ridge, the very property where she and Eli lived when they met. It all happened quickly, though, and there was much to do. They had to find someone to buy out the contract on their old apartment and then move to the new one at The Ridge, all in less than a week. This job provides a lovely, spacious apartment with two giant bedrooms, all free of charge with utilities included. See what I mean about it being an incredible blessing?!
They asked if Gerald and I would be able to go to Rexburg last weekend to help them pack up and move. We were so excited to see the new apartment (and them!!) that we happily agreed. I was just grateful it wasn't the following week when Shulamith would be having surgery (Remember: focus on the one who needs you the most at the time). We drove to Rexburg early last Saturday morning and spent the day packing and moving. Their apartment is seriously so, so great; I sorta wanted to move there myself. Sunday, we cleaned the old apartment and helped the new family move in before we all drove back to Utah late Sunday night. Amanda had three days of training here in Draper Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. We enjoyed some good "Eli time" while she spent three days absorbing copious amounts of information related to her new job. Amanda, you're gonna be great!
In the middle of all that, Shulamith and I prepared 24 freezer meals, 12 for her in preparation for the upcoming surgery recovery, and 12 for me in hopes it might motivate me to eat at home more. Yeah, that won't happen, but it sounds good.
Eli and Amanda returned to Rexburg Wednesday night, and very early (5:30!) Thursday morning, Shulamith and I drove to the hospital for her surgery to remove a hematoma from her uterus and to strengthen and repair the uterus sufficiently to support future pregnancies. I have been to the hospital with each of my five children at one time or another. Still, I'm not used to it. I worry. I worry lots. My own dumb anxiety kicks into full gear. It is what it is.
One very fun thing happened, though; I got to wear this name tag:
Yep, I got to be "Shulamith W." for the morning. And it was pretty cool. You see I love the name "Shulamith." It's probably my favorite girl's name in the whole world. And my name? Can you really think of anything more lackluster than my name? I try to glam it up a bit by combining "Terri" and "Ann" together as one word and even adding an "e" on the end, but really, let's cut the crap: It's a boring name. "Shulamith," on the other hand, is properly glamorous, and I loved wearing this name tag and pretending it was mine. Truth, though, in the surgery waiting room, the friend or family member waiting for the patient in surgery wears the name tag of the patient, so when medical personnel come looking, they can easily spot the right person to talk to.
The surgery took about 1.5 hours, but she was gone an hour longer because her doctor had to go deliver a baby just as she was being rolled into the OR. I did pretty well (for me, that is) waiting. Let's just say my anxiety has spun way more crazy at other times, so I felt proud to keep it somewhat under control for the 2.5 hours I sat in that waiting room, wearing my "Shulamith W." name tag. I was even able to distract myself with a book about a girl who hit her head and lost her memory of the past 10 years, which included the births of three children and a marriage breakup. It's good; you should definitely read it.
But you can't begin to imagine my relief when I saw Shulamith's doctor walk into the waiting room looking for me. He was smiling from ear to ear, so happy to report the excellent news. You see, this whole deal has not been at all normal. Placenta accreta in the first trimester and post miscarriage never happens, never. So this nice doctor really had no idea what to expect when he began the surgery. But his exact words to me, once we moved to a private area, were, "This is absolutely the best possible outcome we could have hoped for." As tears poured down my face, he explained that he removed the golf ball sized mass (probably a hematoma and old pregnancy tissue) from the outside of the uterus and strengthened and reinforced the old C-section scar three times over, and in just a few short months, she would be in the clear to get pregnant again.
My baby can have another baby! She can have the family she has dreamed of. This nightmare is over, and everything is okay. I texted Matt immediately with the news and told him I was being my wimpy self and crying from relief, and I didn't even care if he made fun of me because I was just so happy. I had to wait another 30 minutes to see Shulamith and tell her the great news. She stayed in the hospital overnight and most of yesterday. When I think of the very best part of all that, two things come to mind--(1) the unlimited Diet Coke on tap just about five steps from her room and (2) when Matt brought their two kids to visit. Her oldest, 4-year-old Swen, was mostly interested in watching the cars out the window and twirling around in the privacy curtains that hang from the ceiling, that is until a nurse came in to check Shulamith's vitals:
"Wa, wa, wa, wait. Wait! What are you doing to Mommy?" he boldly asked the nurse. Protective of her already, he is. As the mom to four sons, I get this. And I love it. Then there was 2-year-old Kennedy, who just wanted snuggles.
We came home about 5:00 p.m. just in time for me to help Isaiah do laundry and get ready for three weeks on the road (Focus on the one who needs you the most at the time). He got all packed, and I drove him to the airport for his 10:30 flight. He will attend the DotA international tournament in Seattle this coming week (vacation!) followed by a week in San Francisco and a week in Vegas, both for work.
About the time I returned home, Seth texted that he had finished his shift at Mac. Grill and needed a ride. Ahh, Seth, the fifth and final. I feel like he's gotten only the leftovers this past week, and there hasn't been much left over. Grateful for a super cool Young Men's President, who took him out Pokemon catching one night and for the fact that Seth is honestly the most mature, responsible, and independent 16-year-old I know. As one blogger put it, "You are the last great love of our lives."
And there you have it. One week. Has it really only been one? I'm sitting here in my recliner blogging. I hear raindrops outside, which means it's time to go for a quick run because those precious drops never last long. Then I might even take a nap. Or finish my book about the girl with amnesia. Or wait for gymnastics to come on the Olympics.
Whatever I do, I will continue to be the mom to five, focusing on the one who needs me most at the time.
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