There are moments when you simply must say "No mas." Not "No Mass." "No Mas."
My children volunteer to serve mass. We used to be the go to people for the seven. When we reached having seven, we bowed out and opted for the 8:30. (We like to go before all of them are fully roused and capable of resistance).
Around that time, there was the proposal that the servers' families wash the albs as part of their service. I'm normally a go to home team kind of gal but this was not a burden I could manage. Phoning the woman in charge, I explained that only if the church did not mind if the albs were never returned or came back pink should I be kept on the list for this duty. My house remains alb free even if the washing machine never is.
I learned something in that exchange, that sometimes, just because my tipping point is radically skewed, does not mean I cannot occasionally ply on other people's threshold for stress. So when snow days wiped the schedule clean for the week, I applied my newfound wisdom over the phone in rescheduling.
The receptionist at the doctor's for my daughter was indifferent as she languidly explained she couldn't possibly see me until two weeks from today. Two weeks would mean I'd be on my own, I didn't want that but said, "Well, that's fine as long as you don't mind if I come with five children including a newborn." There was a brief pause on the phone. Suddenly, there was a slot open next week when it would just be the one daughter and the newborn and me.
At the car dealership where I get the 12 passenger serviced for free, showing up with a five, three and two year old plus being pregnant gets extra mechanics hopping on my machine. Apparently hanging out with the happy meals and the kiddos in the waiting room makes the menfolk nervous and what would probably take an hour in normal circumstances gets done in doubletime. I'm considering renting my offspring out for those who want to expedite cumbersome errands that no one, not even the people being paid to do the labor, enjoy doing sufficiently to do with great urgency.
So when the doctors speculated that the reason my mouth broke out in blisters after delivering my daughter was stress induced, I had to wonder, what about number ten was so much moreso than anything else that one might call stressful in my life these past few years. Then I realized, I would have had this infection three children ago, if only I'd agreed to wash the albs.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
One Week Later...
First, thank you Dan, (that wasn't static by the way, I really did mean to say you are an awesome brother). Of course it's all due in part to my superior example as your older sister.
To everyone who has left comments sans "What an informative and interesting take on a very relevant subject..." by generic viagra, thanks for the well wishes.
Anna Maria is very sweet and her features finely chiseled. She is the smallest non-premie I've had and we all keep marveling over how tiny she is; and are enjoying the snow days and the deliberate slowness of the world that a new baby and six to eight inches of wet snow demand.
My mom corrected my memory; it was Saint Joseph's, not Saint Luke's --Saint Luke's is where Will was born.
Every time I go to the hospital, I get to retell my whole health life story and it brings me more stories. For those who aren't privy to my past, I was a 2 lb 11 onz baby myself back in 1966. Every once in a while, I go to the grocery store and try to pick out a chicken to see just how small that was. The intubation tubes back then were brittle by comparison with modern plastic catheters. This was before medicine had that wonderful steroid that helps open the lungs and assist premies to breathe without undue stress upon birth. The catheter came out at some point and in the haste of trying to re-stabilize me, the tubing probably broke my right vocal cord bone, dislocating it and leaving me with half the airway of a normal 2 lb 11 onz baby. Think Swizzle stick for a snorkeling tube and you get an idea of how much air was getting to my lungs.
The anestsisiologist present at my birth had taken to me and asked every medical professional, even flying to Boston to consult at Children's instead of going to a scheduled conference to determine what to do because I was retracting. The decision was unanimous. "Trache." and so I was. You know the part about staying in the hospital now until I was almost six months. The tracheotomy stayed for 8 years. I really never thought about it much until after it was taken away, you can't know what you never experienced so I never gave it much mind, it simply was.
But there were effects left to linger from that experience, I learned to fish early because I couldn't swim. I think I still love fishing more than swimming for that reason. I remember the first week after I got rid of the tracheotomy riding my bike against orders from the doctor. I know the bike felt faster and that I've never quite felt that flying freedom I experienced that day. I have a larger scar on my neck because of it, but the memory of that moment is bigger.
But you start telling this story and there is always so much more than can be explained by a single blog entry or even a slew...because there's the fact that we went to a charismatic retreat when I was six and the participants prayed for my neck to be healed and that weekend was the first time my mom was ever able to plug my trache up and have me not instantly turn blue.
Aparently I watched tv for a few minutes before deciding to go out and ride my bike. My mom watched as I rode fearing I would collapse. I didn't. Two years later, my dad took me to James Avery (Tx silversmith) after the surgery to get rid of the trache. I picked out a silver dove decending. He bought my mom a gold sand dollar pendant. It has the date the trache was removed engraved on the back.
To this day, I don't feel right if I'm not wearing my dove and I feel the closest affinity to the Holy Spirit. It is like a wedding ring to my neck.
And all these little stories merge and reveal deeper patterns that one cannot see when one is in the process of being woven into other people's lives, they indicate the deeper tapestry envisioned by God when He loved each of us into existence. As an amature weaver, I can only see some of the threads, but I know I've got to hold on to the 12 here and all the family and friends I've been given.
So when I told my brother "God is not Random," it was because my first nurse asked me about my Catholicism as she waited patiently for her boyfriend of five years who was also waiting for her, to find a new job so they could marry and he could provide for their family if they were blessed with children. Having had a six year courtship myself, I knew how hard this is and then she peeled open, about how people don't understand but I could see the great beauty and gift she was revealing by her sacrifice and his, both showing great courage in a world that does not know the value of "waiting in joyful hope." It struck me as God's humor to give me a nurse living the theme we'd chosen for this year when I was feeling impatient about delivery.
There is more, always more..there was another mother and two other nurses...will write more of it tomorrow.
To everyone who has left comments sans "What an informative and interesting take on a very relevant subject..." by generic viagra, thanks for the well wishes.
Anna Maria is very sweet and her features finely chiseled. She is the smallest non-premie I've had and we all keep marveling over how tiny she is; and are enjoying the snow days and the deliberate slowness of the world that a new baby and six to eight inches of wet snow demand.
My mom corrected my memory; it was Saint Joseph's, not Saint Luke's --Saint Luke's is where Will was born.
Every time I go to the hospital, I get to retell my whole health life story and it brings me more stories. For those who aren't privy to my past, I was a 2 lb 11 onz baby myself back in 1966. Every once in a while, I go to the grocery store and try to pick out a chicken to see just how small that was. The intubation tubes back then were brittle by comparison with modern plastic catheters. This was before medicine had that wonderful steroid that helps open the lungs and assist premies to breathe without undue stress upon birth. The catheter came out at some point and in the haste of trying to re-stabilize me, the tubing probably broke my right vocal cord bone, dislocating it and leaving me with half the airway of a normal 2 lb 11 onz baby. Think Swizzle stick for a snorkeling tube and you get an idea of how much air was getting to my lungs.
The anestsisiologist present at my birth had taken to me and asked every medical professional, even flying to Boston to consult at Children's instead of going to a scheduled conference to determine what to do because I was retracting. The decision was unanimous. "Trache." and so I was. You know the part about staying in the hospital now until I was almost six months. The tracheotomy stayed for 8 years. I really never thought about it much until after it was taken away, you can't know what you never experienced so I never gave it much mind, it simply was.
But there were effects left to linger from that experience, I learned to fish early because I couldn't swim. I think I still love fishing more than swimming for that reason. I remember the first week after I got rid of the tracheotomy riding my bike against orders from the doctor. I know the bike felt faster and that I've never quite felt that flying freedom I experienced that day. I have a larger scar on my neck because of it, but the memory of that moment is bigger.
But you start telling this story and there is always so much more than can be explained by a single blog entry or even a slew...because there's the fact that we went to a charismatic retreat when I was six and the participants prayed for my neck to be healed and that weekend was the first time my mom was ever able to plug my trache up and have me not instantly turn blue.
Aparently I watched tv for a few minutes before deciding to go out and ride my bike. My mom watched as I rode fearing I would collapse. I didn't. Two years later, my dad took me to James Avery (Tx silversmith) after the surgery to get rid of the trache. I picked out a silver dove decending. He bought my mom a gold sand dollar pendant. It has the date the trache was removed engraved on the back.
To this day, I don't feel right if I'm not wearing my dove and I feel the closest affinity to the Holy Spirit. It is like a wedding ring to my neck.
And all these little stories merge and reveal deeper patterns that one cannot see when one is in the process of being woven into other people's lives, they indicate the deeper tapestry envisioned by God when He loved each of us into existence. As an amature weaver, I can only see some of the threads, but I know I've got to hold on to the 12 here and all the family and friends I've been given.
So when I told my brother "God is not Random," it was because my first nurse asked me about my Catholicism as she waited patiently for her boyfriend of five years who was also waiting for her, to find a new job so they could marry and he could provide for their family if they were blessed with children. Having had a six year courtship myself, I knew how hard this is and then she peeled open, about how people don't understand but I could see the great beauty and gift she was revealing by her sacrifice and his, both showing great courage in a world that does not know the value of "waiting in joyful hope." It struck me as God's humor to give me a nurse living the theme we'd chosen for this year when I was feeling impatient about delivery.
There is more, always more..there was another mother and two other nurses...will write more of it tomorrow.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Anna Maria Hope Antonetti
Hello Loyal Readers and Friends,
Today at Chocolate for the Brain, I am filling in for Sherry because she’s busy taking care of herself and the new baby, Anna Maria Hope Antonetti (great name, right?). Anyway, we have talked twice over the past week and she asked me to post for her. I don’t mind. I have always liked the role of guest.
The following is based on an interview I had with her just earlier today. As I am in Houston and she is in Maryland, this was done via bad speaker phone to bad speaker phone. Occasionally I was unable to hear her answers clearly. In those moments, I made up what I think must have been her answers. To help you decipher, I have capitalized the portions of the phone call wherein I simply had to make up what I think she must have said.
Sherry: That's the name I have for the hospital. It's a place that guarantees I do no dishes, do no laundry, etc.
Me: I get it. Nice. So 4 days? Is everything okay?
Sherry: The Baby is fine. I can't leave until I get off some antibiotics. DID I MENTION THAT YOU ARE AN AWESOME BROTHER? …I don’t want to get into details about the delivery but...
Me: Please don't tell me anymore.
Sherry: You asked.
Me: Sisters are supposed to know what not to share with their brothers.
Sherry: Do you want to hear about the-
Me. No. Emphatically no. Whatever is the end of that sentence, I've already decided the answer is “no.”
Sherry: (laughs)
Me: …Tell me about the baby.
Sherry: Her name is Anna Maria Hope. She was born Thursday night at 8:27 in the evening, 7 lbs. 2 oz.
Me: Is that her crying in the background?
Sherry: Yes, that's her. She's a good nurser and she looks like a smaller version of Marta, because Marta was never this little. She's doing great.
Me: Marta was a big baby. I remember. I was there for that one.
Sherry: Yes. YOU ARE AMAZING DAN.
Me: So who is at the house taking care of everyone?
Sherry: Well, my mother-in-law came to help before the birth. Between Marc and the oldest two kids, we have great support at home. Also Mom and Dad are there now and Aunt Joan will be here next week.
Me: Aunt Joan’s going to be there? Lucky.
Sherry: Don’t get jealous. Also, some good friends of mine are helping out: Gloria Rose, Maria, and Diane.
Me: So why Anna Maria Hope? It's a lovely name.
Sherry: Great story. Back in Houston, I was baptized by Sr. Anna Maria. She was working At St. Luke’s and I was stuck in the hospital for the first six months of my life. This meant Mom was too. One day Mom was complaining to the sister about how stressful it was to see me every day in the hospital, tubes attached here, there, and everywhere. Mom had been patient, but the doctors were so reluctant to release me. When Sr. Anna Maria saw Mom breaking down, she went into action immediately. Sr. Anna Maria went up to the top floor to talk to the hospital officials, she signed a few papers, removed every tube, and brought me to Mom. She put me in Mom’s arms and said, "Take her home. She's yours."
Me: Gotta love the nuns. They get things done.
Sherry: And Hope is just her name. We always try to give our kids their own name as well. Marc picked it out.
Me: That name is very appropriate. Anything else?
Sherry: We're both doing fine. I'll write when I get a chance.
Me: Do I get paid for this?
Sherry: As much as I do.
Me: Darn.
Sherry: I do have one thing.
Me: What’s that?
Sherry: Nothing God does is random.
Welcome to the world, kid.
It’s me, Sherry’s brother, Dan. I’m the one who’s running the marathon, the one who lost the house, and Lord knows what else Sherry has told cyber world. …Did she ever mention the Lego incident between me and my little sister when I was seven? If so, I’d like to apologize publicly. If not, …it’s not worth discussing.
The following is based on an interview I had with her just earlier today. As I am in Houston and she is in Maryland, this was done via bad speaker phone to bad speaker phone. Occasionally I was unable to hear her answers clearly. In those moments, I made up what I think must have been her answers. To help you decipher, I have capitalized the portions of the phone call wherein I simply had to make up what I think she must have said.
Me: So Sherry? how's it going?
Sherry: Well it’s Day 4 in the spa, but being stuck here is best for me right now.
Me: I’m sorry. The Shady Grove Spa? Sherry: That's the name I have for the hospital. It's a place that guarantees I do no dishes, do no laundry, etc.
Me: I get it. Nice. So 4 days? Is everything okay?
Sherry: The Baby is fine. I can't leave until I get off some antibiotics. DID I MENTION THAT YOU ARE AN AWESOME BROTHER? …I don’t want to get into details about the delivery but...
Me: Please don't tell me anymore.
Sherry: You asked.
Me: Sisters are supposed to know what not to share with their brothers.
Sherry: Do you want to hear about the-
Me. No. Emphatically no. Whatever is the end of that sentence, I've already decided the answer is “no.”
Sherry: (laughs)
Me: …Tell me about the baby.
Sherry: Her name is Anna Maria Hope. She was born Thursday night at 8:27 in the evening, 7 lbs. 2 oz.
Me: Is that her crying in the background?
Sherry: Yes, that's her. She's a good nurser and she looks like a smaller version of Marta, because Marta was never this little. She's doing great.
Me: Marta was a big baby. I remember. I was there for that one.
Sherry: Yes. YOU ARE AMAZING DAN.
Me: So who is at the house taking care of everyone?
Sherry: Well, my mother-in-law came to help before the birth. Between Marc and the oldest two kids, we have great support at home. Also Mom and Dad are there now and Aunt Joan will be here next week.
Me: Aunt Joan’s going to be there? Lucky.
Sherry: Don’t get jealous. Also, some good friends of mine are helping out: Gloria Rose, Maria, and Diane.
Me: So why Anna Maria Hope? It's a lovely name.
Sherry: Great story. Back in Houston, I was baptized by Sr. Anna Maria. She was working At St. Luke’s and I was stuck in the hospital for the first six months of my life. This meant Mom was too. One day Mom was complaining to the sister about how stressful it was to see me every day in the hospital, tubes attached here, there, and everywhere. Mom had been patient, but the doctors were so reluctant to release me. When Sr. Anna Maria saw Mom breaking down, she went into action immediately. Sr. Anna Maria went up to the top floor to talk to the hospital officials, she signed a few papers, removed every tube, and brought me to Mom. She put me in Mom’s arms and said, "Take her home. She's yours."
Me: Gotta love the nuns. They get things done.
Sherry: And Hope is just her name. We always try to give our kids their own name as well. Marc picked it out.
Me: That name is very appropriate. Anything else?
Sherry: We're both doing fine. I'll write when I get a chance.
Me: Do I get paid for this?
Sherry: As much as I do.
Me: Darn.
Sherry: I do have one thing.
Me: What’s that?
Sherry: Nothing God does is random.
The rest of the conversation went the way all of ours do -some theology, some worry, some joke, etc. Sherry will be home and posting very soon.
Anna Maria Hope Antonetti is a beautiful young girl. We are all so blessed to have her in our family. …She’s also so blessed to have so much life waiting for her back at the Antonetti house.
Anna Maria Hope,
Welcome to the world, kid. Love,
Uncle Danny
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