Today my grandfather turned 85. This is a huge achievement, not least considering he had a major coronary at the age of 40 and was told he had only months left. I'm very glad that that wasn't true - he has been a major influence in my life and is an incredible person. Both my grandparents have had a huge positive impact on me; they form the foundation of many happy childhood memories of Christmases, storytelling and playing games in the garden to name but a few. Unfortunately things are very difficult for them at the moment.
On top of my grandmother's stroke two months ago, my grandfather has recently been admitted to hospital after getting up too quickly and passing out. It turns out that the angina he has been treated for all these years is non-existent; instead, he has very low blood pressure. He came home from hospital and suddenly looks about 5 years younger. On the flip side, he is not coping well with my grandmother's dementia following her stroke. She does make a kind of sense, as long as you can work out where she thinks she is, and what time frame she's in. Otherwise, it is nonsense. My grandfather however can't keep up with this (or doesn't want to accept it - I'm not sure which) and so assumes that everything she says is fact.
As my whole family were visiting them for lunch, we generally had a very nice time, although the fact that my aunt prepared lunch further convinced my grandmother that she's not at home, as she didn't know what we were going to eat. We all ate together, and then my grandparents went for a nap, as did my daughter. When my daughter woke up, she cried as usual. She was quickly ushered into the garden, but my grandmother must have heard her, because when she got up, she kept asking what my daughter had eaten to make her sick, and was convinced that she must have eaten something and that she was ill. Eventually she decided that my daughter had eaten some blackberries from the garden and that they must have been mouldy. Nothing we said could convince her that my daughter was fine; every time it was explained to her, I could see she didn't believe us, as she couldn't understand why else my daughter would have cried.
I love the way my grandmother comes to life when my daughter is around, and the fact that she obviously cares so much for her, but I hate the fact that she worries about her so much that she gets distressed. My mother fell out of a window when she was about 9 months old, and my grandmother is reminded of that every time she sees my daughter and it upsets her - not just the memory of my mother but also the thought that my daughter could be hurt.
It's also very hard for me to watch the way my mum, aunt and sister are dealing with my grandparents' illness. My sister hasn't seen my grandparents since the stroke until today - she can't deal with the thought of them being ill, so has been understandably reluctanct to make the long journey from where she now lives to see them. My mum and aunt both react very differently. My aunt copes by fussing - she wants to do everything for my grandmother and gets in a flap when anything goes wrong. I understand she is anxious (who wouldn't be anxious about their parents) but the extent of her worry frustrates me. My mum on the other hand is very practical and down to earth, to the point of brusqueness. She loves her parents very much, but feels that she has to remain calm and collected, especially as my aunt doesn't. I can see her and my grandmother getting frustrated with each other, and it worries me that they forget that they do actually love each other very much. I can also see my mum getting annoyed at my grandfather's unwillingness or inability to deal with this huge change in their life and it is breaking her relationship with him. This upsets me the most, as she's always been very close to him.
My aunt and my mum have been caring for my grandparents for two months now and they are both exhausted. They have both had holidays but as soon as they are back they are exhausted again, and they are taking more time off work than they can afford. I am caught between being annoyed that they won't rely more on me and my husband as we live 10 minutes away (as opposed to over an hour away for both my mum and my aunt) and relieved that I don't have to care for my grandparents. This in turn makes me feel guilty for not wanting to look after my grandparents - they have given me so much - but I am embarrassed for them and upset to see them unable to care for themselves fully. They have so long been the head of our family and have been there for all of us and now that the positions are reversing they feel inadequate and helpless and ashamed to need our help. So while I want to help them as much as I can, I know that it is even worse for them to be reliant on their grandchildren than it is their children.
There is no simple solution - all I can do is muddle through and hope that my decisions make their lives a little better, so I can feel that I have at least begun to repay them for all they have done for me.
30 August 2006
22 August 2006
Shock tactics
One of the things that prompted the creation of this blog was the fabulous writing of (among others) Emily and Julie.
They have both written at times about the trials and tribulations of deciding to have a family - Julie in particular has been through some experiences that I wouldn't wish for anyone. N & I had rather a different experience, which caused us in our own way to go through a great deal of anxiety.
In 2004, after two and a half years together, N proposed to me, and I was over the moon. We planned our wedding for the following autumn, and life was good. Then, in summer 05, I got a new job working in the private sector, a move I had been hoping to make for some time. The timing coming up to the wedding wasn't the best, but I figured I ought to be able to manage - wedding planning was going well and I was very organised.
About a month before our wedding, N had his stag do, and one of my friends came round to spend the day with me while her husband was on the stag do. We had a great girly day and gossiped a lot about nothing much as we usually do (she's the one person I'm ever girly with, as usually I can't stand the whole "he said she said" scene). The only slight downside was that I slipped down our stairs and bashed my coccyx, which was very sore and I had some difficulty walking. On Monday, I was really no better, so I called work and explained that I couldn't make it in - there was no way I could manage public transport in that much pain.
I had been feeling really run down and had started taking some medication that I had previously been on - I figured that I was under the weather and tired because of planning the wedding and the new job. However instead of feeling better, it just made me feel queasy and so I stopped. I was vaguely aware that I was due a period - I never have a clue when I'm due, so I never know if I'm late, and I've had several patches in my life where I've been irregular. However I thought I had better play it safe, and do a test.
How shocked was I when not one, but two lines appeared! I knew that it was a possibility - we weren't exactly 100% careful all the time, but 4 weeks before the wedding?! I went back to the bedroom and made N wake up - I think my exact words were "I need you to wake up; I've got something to tell you and you need to be properly awake for this".
He dragged himself upright (he's not really a morning person!) and I said "I've just done a pregnancy test, and it's positive". "Aaeehr" came the coherent response.
This was a really big issue for us. We knew that we really wanted a family but the timing was exactly wrong. We were laden with debts, just about to get married, and the dates were such that my maternity pay was in doubt. We wanted to make the right decision for us, and the baby, but could barely begin to get our heads around the details. I knew as well that I was not 100% physically fit - as well as being overweight, I had recently overcome a long illness and was only just beginning to feel back to normal. I was terrified that pregnancy would be harmful both to my health and to that of the baby.
The last thing I wanted was for my family doctor to know, so we contacted the family planning centre for advice and options. They confirmed that I was pregnant and pointed us in the direction of Marie Stopes, who were able to provide more advice and information.
We went for an appointment at their clinic, where I had an ultrasound scan and they discussed options for terminating the pregnancy if that is what we wanted. The nurse was fantastic, and talked through all our options, and offered counselling. N & I both broke down in the appointment - it felt so wrong for us to terminate a pregnancy, but at the same time, we were both worried that it would have long term health implications for me (that would possibly impact my ability to look after myself or the baby) and that our relationship would not survive.
We booked an appointment for the termination the next day, and went home and cried about it.
We talked and talked, about our hopes and our fears, how we would cope in either situation, both short and long term. By the end of the night, we knew that there was no way we could go ahead. We knew we had a fantastic support network around us and it would feel hypocritical to terminate a potential child because they had arrived 12 months early.
As soon as we had made the decision, we knew it was right for us. We were suddenly hit with that giddy euphoria that I imagine everyone consciously trying for a baby must feel on getting a positive - a mixture of "wow, it's actually happening" mixed with "oh my god, we must be crazy" and an overwhelming urge to ring everyone we knew and even accost strangers on the street!
It's a year now since we conceived and about 11 months since we found out. I don' t think I'll ever forget the experience and the emotions. I do believe that one day I will tell our daughter that she was unexpected (she'll be able to do the sums between the wedding and her birthday) and if she asks, I'll tell her that we thought long and hard about whether we could fairly raise a child in our circumstances at the time, but that in the end, there was no way we could pass up the opportunity to have the first baby that we both longed for.
They have both written at times about the trials and tribulations of deciding to have a family - Julie in particular has been through some experiences that I wouldn't wish for anyone. N & I had rather a different experience, which caused us in our own way to go through a great deal of anxiety.
In 2004, after two and a half years together, N proposed to me, and I was over the moon. We planned our wedding for the following autumn, and life was good. Then, in summer 05, I got a new job working in the private sector, a move I had been hoping to make for some time. The timing coming up to the wedding wasn't the best, but I figured I ought to be able to manage - wedding planning was going well and I was very organised.
About a month before our wedding, N had his stag do, and one of my friends came round to spend the day with me while her husband was on the stag do. We had a great girly day and gossiped a lot about nothing much as we usually do (she's the one person I'm ever girly with, as usually I can't stand the whole "he said she said" scene). The only slight downside was that I slipped down our stairs and bashed my coccyx, which was very sore and I had some difficulty walking. On Monday, I was really no better, so I called work and explained that I couldn't make it in - there was no way I could manage public transport in that much pain.
I had been feeling really run down and had started taking some medication that I had previously been on - I figured that I was under the weather and tired because of planning the wedding and the new job. However instead of feeling better, it just made me feel queasy and so I stopped. I was vaguely aware that I was due a period - I never have a clue when I'm due, so I never know if I'm late, and I've had several patches in my life where I've been irregular. However I thought I had better play it safe, and do a test.
How shocked was I when not one, but two lines appeared! I knew that it was a possibility - we weren't exactly 100% careful all the time, but 4 weeks before the wedding?! I went back to the bedroom and made N wake up - I think my exact words were "I need you to wake up; I've got something to tell you and you need to be properly awake for this".
He dragged himself upright (he's not really a morning person!) and I said "I've just done a pregnancy test, and it's positive". "Aaeehr" came the coherent response.
This was a really big issue for us. We knew that we really wanted a family but the timing was exactly wrong. We were laden with debts, just about to get married, and the dates were such that my maternity pay was in doubt. We wanted to make the right decision for us, and the baby, but could barely begin to get our heads around the details. I knew as well that I was not 100% physically fit - as well as being overweight, I had recently overcome a long illness and was only just beginning to feel back to normal. I was terrified that pregnancy would be harmful both to my health and to that of the baby.
The last thing I wanted was for my family doctor to know, so we contacted the family planning centre for advice and options. They confirmed that I was pregnant and pointed us in the direction of Marie Stopes, who were able to provide more advice and information.
We went for an appointment at their clinic, where I had an ultrasound scan and they discussed options for terminating the pregnancy if that is what we wanted. The nurse was fantastic, and talked through all our options, and offered counselling. N & I both broke down in the appointment - it felt so wrong for us to terminate a pregnancy, but at the same time, we were both worried that it would have long term health implications for me (that would possibly impact my ability to look after myself or the baby) and that our relationship would not survive.
We booked an appointment for the termination the next day, and went home and cried about it.
We talked and talked, about our hopes and our fears, how we would cope in either situation, both short and long term. By the end of the night, we knew that there was no way we could go ahead. We knew we had a fantastic support network around us and it would feel hypocritical to terminate a potential child because they had arrived 12 months early.
As soon as we had made the decision, we knew it was right for us. We were suddenly hit with that giddy euphoria that I imagine everyone consciously trying for a baby must feel on getting a positive - a mixture of "wow, it's actually happening" mixed with "oh my god, we must be crazy" and an overwhelming urge to ring everyone we knew and even accost strangers on the street!
It's a year now since we conceived and about 11 months since we found out. I don' t think I'll ever forget the experience and the emotions. I do believe that one day I will tell our daughter that she was unexpected (she'll be able to do the sums between the wedding and her birthday) and if she asks, I'll tell her that we thought long and hard about whether we could fairly raise a child in our circumstances at the time, but that in the end, there was no way we could pass up the opportunity to have the first baby that we both longed for.
21 August 2006
You just can't be trusted.
Just after my daughter was born, we were having one of the final visits from the midwife (approx 8-10 days post-delivery). The midwife was doing all of the necessary checks of my daughter (weight, nappy contents, soft spots on head etc) when she announced:
"Of course I have to talk to you about contraception"
"Right", I said, thinking how sensible that was - even our pre-natal midwives were very confusing on the issue of breastfeeding as contraceptive.
"So what will you be using?" she asked. "Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD that has a slow-release hormone in it?"
"No thanks, I'm perfectly happy with the condoms," I said. "I'd like a break from taking tablets or other medication of any sort if possible - for a while at least."
"Oh. Are you sure? They're very simple..." (Hmm, clearly she's still confused after having the baby)
(Yes, but I said no thanks) "No, really, that's fine."
"Well let me tell you all about them anyway." (If I say it differently maybe that will help)
(Oh, goody.)
Several minutes (and leaflets) later she ends with, "So, are you certain you don't want to speak to someone about a coil or an implant?"
(Which bit of 'No, I'm quite happy' confused you the first two times?) "Er, no, I really am happy with the condoms, thank you."
"You do know they're not 100% effective, don't you?" (Oh dear, she really is sleep-deprived)
(Yes of course I bloody do - we're not naive 14-year-olds) "Yes"
"Well I'll leave you this information, and you can have a look at it and speak to your GP when you go for your 6-week check." (By then either you will have come to your senses, or he'll be able to talk you round.)
My husband and I couldn't quite believe how pushy she was. We were pleased that we had the opportunity to discuss it, should we have wanted to, but this decision had already been made, and we were both quite happy. We'd already had a few problems with this midwife, so we just put it down to her generally dodgy patient manner.
Several weeks later I went for my 6-week check at the doctors, and (as a responsible GP should) he asked
"Have you thought about contraception now? You know you can get pregnant even though you are breastfeeding?"
"Yes, thank you."
"So what kind of contraception are you thinking of using? Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD or implant of some sort?"
(You have got to be joking!)
So we go through the whole rigamarole again.
"No, I really don't want anyth... no, I'm quite happy not havin... yes, I am aware they're not 100%... no, really, I have made my mind up, I don't want to take the number of the family planning clinic just in case.
It was clear that what both the GP and the midwife really wanted to say was "Well, you were stupid enough to get knocked up the first time... how do we know you're not just going to go straight back home and get yourselves in even more trouble... you parents just can't be trusted you know..."
Which is of course the case - all we did in the first eight weeks of our daughter's life was swing from the rafters trying to conceive the maximum number of offspring.
But you have to do something with all that energy you get from having a newborn!
"Of course I have to talk to you about contraception"
"Right", I said, thinking how sensible that was - even our pre-natal midwives were very confusing on the issue of breastfeeding as contraceptive.
"So what will you be using?" she asked. "Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD that has a slow-release hormone in it?"
"No thanks, I'm perfectly happy with the condoms," I said. "I'd like a break from taking tablets or other medication of any sort if possible - for a while at least."
"Oh. Are you sure? They're very simple..." (Hmm, clearly she's still confused after having the baby)
(Yes, but I said no thanks) "No, really, that's fine."
"Well let me tell you all about them anyway." (If I say it differently maybe that will help)
(Oh, goody.)
Several minutes (and leaflets) later she ends with, "So, are you certain you don't want to speak to someone about a coil or an implant?"
(Which bit of 'No, I'm quite happy' confused you the first two times?) "Er, no, I really am happy with the condoms, thank you."
"You do know they're not 100% effective, don't you?" (Oh dear, she really is sleep-deprived)
(Yes of course I bloody do - we're not naive 14-year-olds) "Yes"
"Well I'll leave you this information, and you can have a look at it and speak to your GP when you go for your 6-week check." (By then either you will have come to your senses, or he'll be able to talk you round.)
My husband and I couldn't quite believe how pushy she was. We were pleased that we had the opportunity to discuss it, should we have wanted to, but this decision had already been made, and we were both quite happy. We'd already had a few problems with this midwife, so we just put it down to her generally dodgy patient manner.
Several weeks later I went for my 6-week check at the doctors, and (as a responsible GP should) he asked
"Have you thought about contraception now? You know you can get pregnant even though you are breastfeeding?"
"Yes, thank you."
"So what kind of contraception are you thinking of using? Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD or implant of some sort?"
(You have got to be joking!)
So we go through the whole rigamarole again.
"No, I really don't want anyth... no, I'm quite happy not havin... yes, I am aware they're not 100%... no, really, I have made my mind up, I don't want to take the number of the family planning clinic just in case.
It was clear that what both the GP and the midwife really wanted to say was "Well, you were stupid enough to get knocked up the first time... how do we know you're not just going to go straight back home and get yourselves in even more trouble... you parents just can't be trusted you know..."
Which is of course the case - all we did in the first eight weeks of our daughter's life was swing from the rafters trying to conceive the maximum number of offspring.
But you have to do something with all that energy you get from having a newborn!
13 August 2006
Opposite ends of the spectrum
Life is a bit strange at the moment. While we're revelling in the wonder that is our new baby, we're also watching my grandmother's health deteriorate.
About a month ago, she had a major stroke. She's been in hospital, and my grandfather has been spending every day by her side trying to make sense of what she says. Not all of what she says is based in the here and now, and hearing her grieve for her youth as though she has just lost it is heartbreaking. Just as upsetting are her lucid moments - she remembers who we are and it frustrates her at the same time as causing her real pain that she can't hold my daughter or play with her the way she could just a few weeks ago.
The thing that hurts me the most is that my daughter's birth had given my grandparents hope and a future to look towards for the first time in years, and it feels as though it has been cruelly snatched away.
My grandmother is not at immediate risk of dying - my grandfather is altering their house for when she comes home - but it's a stark reminder that things don't stay the same, and it feels like a cruel juxtaposition to such a happy time in our lives.
About a month ago, she had a major stroke. She's been in hospital, and my grandfather has been spending every day by her side trying to make sense of what she says. Not all of what she says is based in the here and now, and hearing her grieve for her youth as though she has just lost it is heartbreaking. Just as upsetting are her lucid moments - she remembers who we are and it frustrates her at the same time as causing her real pain that she can't hold my daughter or play with her the way she could just a few weeks ago.
The thing that hurts me the most is that my daughter's birth had given my grandparents hope and a future to look towards for the first time in years, and it feels as though it has been cruelly snatched away.
My grandmother is not at immediate risk of dying - my grandfather is altering their house for when she comes home - but it's a stark reminder that things don't stay the same, and it feels like a cruel juxtaposition to such a happy time in our lives.
08 August 2006
Visiting
Last weekend, we went on our first "long" trip with our daughter (ie more than 1 hour away from home, and requiring more than 1 night's overnight stay). We went to visit friends of ours that I met at university who have also had a baby recently.
It was fantastic to see them - we've not seen them properly since our wedding last year, except for a day about 2 months ago when they did the long round trip in one day to meet our daughter before their baby was born. It was also slightly surreal with the four of us and two small babies - suddenly our care-free student days seemed a very long time ago!
It also gave N & me a chance to see just how much our daughter has changed - their baby is about 8 weeks younger than her and so the difference was noticeable. Whilst he felt so much lighter than she is, it was nice to realise that, for the time being, the sleepless nights are behind us and to see just how much more she interacts with us than she did only a few weeks ago. Only 13 weeks old, and already she seemed like a grown up!
It was fantastic to see them - we've not seen them properly since our wedding last year, except for a day about 2 months ago when they did the long round trip in one day to meet our daughter before their baby was born. It was also slightly surreal with the four of us and two small babies - suddenly our care-free student days seemed a very long time ago!
It also gave N & me a chance to see just how much our daughter has changed - their baby is about 8 weeks younger than her and so the difference was noticeable. Whilst he felt so much lighter than she is, it was nice to realise that, for the time being, the sleepless nights are behind us and to see just how much more she interacts with us than she did only a few weeks ago. Only 13 weeks old, and already she seemed like a grown up!
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