Don't think I'm going to make my deadline, but at least I have pictures.

*Every cancelled check and check blanks for bank account that we closed 26 years ago before we got married.


*My metal Pinocchio lunch box from grade school.


*The test results from Hopper's DNA karyotype that changed our lives so completely 21 years ago.


*Unopened Sesame Street and Highlights For Kids magazines from 15 to 18 years ago.


*Card from Hubster's grandmother from 1997. It still had the $5 she sent for us to buy ice cream in it. We did.


*Birthday card from Hopper's 4th birthday from her uncle that still held the $5 he sent her. That was 17 years ago.


*Box from mug Hubster and Bugster got me for my birthday when I was expecting Hopper. Mug said, "I Y my job like I Y having my finger slammed in the car door." with an adorable note from Hubby on the inside flap.


*The beginning lines of a story Bugster started to write when she was about 10. "There was a boy named Jack, who didn't know the difference between a Life Saver and a nickle. He was a very lonely little boy." And that's where it ended. I would have loved to have read more.


*Bugster's beginning music book for French Horn and her beginning, intermediate and Christmas music books for flute.


*Plastic glasses from a comedy show we saw in our first year of marriage.


*The boxes from Hopper's first set of hearing aides.


*The assembly instructions for the wheelchair Scooter used until she was 7.


These are just some of the many, many things I've found in the boxes of paperwork I've sorted through the last couple of days. 


I set a goal to get through all the boxes of paperwork in the study before the end of September, but I'm not sure, if I'm going to make it or not. The whole situation with Scooter set me back a bit, so I will probably have to be okay with finishing up in October instead.

After

And just so you don't have to go searching for the before picture, or clicking on a link to see it, I've uploaded it below.

Before. 

In the meantime, I can see the back wall of the study where the boxes were stacked 3 deep and all the way to the ceiling. The first row is completely gone, and the second row no longer reaches the ceiling, but I still have a long way to go. 


I sent 4 more bags of shredables out the door this morning after sending 7 bags out yesterday for a total of 25 grocery bags of preshredded for the month of September. I've also sent 4 huge black contractor bags of trash out that consisted of paperwork I could throw.


I've been able to let go of things I've hung onto for years in the hope that I would eventually fix them. The most liberating of these items has to be the story books that were torn up. I always felt such a huge obligation to repair them to the best of my ability and practically laminate each page with tape, so they couldn't tear them again. I did manage to do this a few times with some of the books over the years, but more often than not, they were just tossed in a box. I am sure some of the missing pieces of pages I never found ended up in someone's digestive track somewhere along the way. I didn't check too closely.


I'm just glad that I was finally able to dispose of them guilt-free. 


I've come to the conclusion that I'm not responsible for everything that goes wrong. It's not my job to fix it all. I don't have to save everything associated with our children's lives to be a good mom. 


It's better to throw it away than to throw my life away worrying about it. 

Paging Mr Man. Mr Red Man?

Two weeks ago, when Scooter had to be admitted to the hospital with the fear of a blood infection, they had to put her on some strong IV antibiotics. One of those antibiotics is called Vancomycin. It can cause what is known as Red Man Syndrome. It is basically an intense flushing of the body due to a histamine response to the antibiotic.


We were told it's not necessarily an allergic reaction, but she needed antihistamines each time she got a new bag of antibiotics, so we could try to get the redness under control. When she was discharged from the hospital that Wednesday, we noticed that the redness was worse. We asked, if she could have more antihistamines, but there was only an order for it to be administered by IV, and her IV had already been removed. We decided not to wait for the doctor to write more orders, and just took her straight home and got her
started on them at home.


In spite of being on antihistamines every 4 to 6 hours, the redness was getting worse and was looking more like a bad rash. Her poor stomach felt like leather and sandpaper at the same time. She was covered over her entire body, except the lower arms and legs. She was miserable. The rash was hot to the touch, it stung, and it itched like crazy. She started steroids that Friday night to try to get the rash under control.


Ha.


By Sunday, the rash started crawling up her neck and onto her face and scalp. We took her into the urgent care clinic. The doctor said he figured that her body was overwhelmed with antibiotics that didn't have an infection to work on, and it just couldn't handle it. He said to continue the steroids and antihistamines, stop the oral antibiotics she'd been sent home on and to have her see a dermatologist as soon as we could. 


We got an appointment for Tuesday and waited while the rash got worse. 


The dermatologist said that he thought it was an allergic reaction to the antibiotic she'd been sent home with from the hospital. He also said it could still be the Red Man, as there are instances when it has a delayed reaction and gets worse about a week out from the original episode. (Her reaction started within minutes of being on the Vancomycin, which is normal, as far as Red Man goes, but the delayed reaction definitely fit in with the timeline of the rash).


He increased her steroid dosage and prescribed an steroid ointment for the rash. He also told us to use an amazing hypoallergenic cream, and he'd see us in a couple of weeks. Within a couple of days, the rash on her trunk started to fade as she started to peel like she'd had a sunburn over her entire body. The sheets on her bed are covered every morning with little pieces of peeled skin when she gets out of bed.


And while the rash looked better on most of her body, we watched it creep down her arms and legs. She looked like she had Scarlet Fever or something. The good news is that her doctor said her pneumonia is gone, even though she'll still have a cough for a couple more weeks. 


Thankfully, it appears as though her rash has stopped growing and has all but disappeared. Her skin is still a mottled purple and looks like raw hamburger or something, and she's still peeling, but she's feeling so much better. The ointment and cream have helped tremendously, and we are so very grateful. 


It's so good to see her smiling again!


Now, I can hopefully get over the temporary paralysis that seems to set in when there's a big medical stressor like this.

Life, loss and letting go.

For years, I've had trouble holding onto things.

Obviously, or I wouldn't be a hoarder, right?

Now that I'm back on my medicines and thinking more clearly, I'm making hard decisions about some of those things. With other things, my decision is not to make a decision right now.

For example, I've decided not to get rid of the ultrasound pictures of two of my pregnancies that ended in miscarriage. I didn't get an ultrasound the third time. By then, I knew what was happening, and I didn't want the heartache of seeing what was happening on a screen. I didn't want a picture to remind me. I don't regret that decision, but I also don't regret the decision of getting the pictures of  the first two.  

The pictures still bring me back to the loss I felt at the time...

The physical and emotional loss of the miscarriages themselves was hard enough. After all, we'd wanted every single baby I carried. But to be told that the little sac was empty was about more than I could handle. To know that our little ones had stopped growing just shortly after conception somehow made it worse. To know that they'd never even had a chance just killed me. 

It also made me feel like I had nothing to mourn. That I hadn't actually lost a baby, because there had never been a heartbeat. It didn't help that others actually told me I'd never been pregnant, since the sac was empty. That I didn't lose a baby. 

But I did. 


Three times.


I don't know, if they thought they were helping by minimizing my loss, but their words made it no less real. If anything, they made it worse. 


So I've kept these ultrasound pictures all these years. They are the only proof that we lost our babies. The only proof that they ever existed in the first place. Somehow, I feel that letting them go is saying they were never important to me. That somehow it's saying I didn't love them. That I didn't start thinking of names, imagining the nursery, picturing our babies' little faces in my mind the very moment I knew I was pregnant. 


I'm still not there. I might be someday, but only time will tell.


In the meantime, I've made some progress.


In the last several days, I've sorted through two small boxes that had each held six boxes of baby wipes, two apple boxes, and two  18 gallon totes full of paperwork. I've filled two huge black contractor bags with trash and ten more grocery bags with shredables. Five of them went out the door on Friday, and the rest will go out the door tomorrow. The stuff I've kept has been sorted into 3 categories. 

A small crate holds bills, paystubs and medical miscellaneous that I will scan and eventually toss into the shredables. A small box holds greeting cards and letters from loved ones that I will eventually scan. I don't know that I'll actually ever throw them away, but I will be scanning them, so they aren't lost forever, if something should happen to them. And the third is an apple box less than half full of drawings the girls did, stories written, IEPS and other miscellaneous things I'll be scanning when I get to it. 


My goal is to discard as much as possible once I've scanned it. Normally, I would try to scan it all as I sort it, but I've got to get through the boxes as quickly as possible, so I can find the birth certificates and social security cards I need. If I could just go down to the courthouse and order more, I would, but all 3 girls were born out of state from where we live now, and it's not as easy as it seems. It would take several weeks and $30 to $40 each to get copies, so I'll just keep working on the paperwork and scan things later.


I'm making progress. It's slow, but it's steady.


And I'm learning to let go.