I’m giving each of you fair warning. I’m headed briefly to no man’s land, so for those of you who are adverse to reading about a state of lumpiness, just shut me down now and start with tomorrow’s blog entry. Skip today’s! Today is all about Bitsy and what’s therapeutic for her.
A few weeks back, I discovered that I was experiencing what I affectionately refer to as a “state of lumpiness” I obsessed and worried for a few days, then I womaned up and put my “grandma” panties on and headed for the biopsy. Thankfully, I have since gotten the better than good news that it was a “benign state of lumpiness”. Having had what has become known as the “think pink disease” some years back and having endured the radiation, chemo and general pain in the ass that accompanies this lovely disease, I can say that the previous bouts were very different than worrying about the ramifications of this “lumpiness threat”.
Years back, I soul searched about the Lil Momma and her ability to function in a world without her lunatic Mother, despite the fact that I have been told many times “she is way more together than I will EVER be“. I had always looked forward to my “golden years“, seeing them as a time when I would be free of the compulsion to work for a living, a time when I could enjoy traveling, and if I were lucky, to be there to share my grandchildren. The “think pink/cancer diagnosis of years past” had me worried that those types of “longer-term” plans would not pan out quite the way I had hoped. The most heartbreaking recalibration was the clear and present danger of the possibility of not being able to know my child as an adult, not knowing her spouse, not being able to cheer them on as a married couple from the sidelines, not being present to their children. Maybe, just maybe, there was an evolutionary basis to this reaction to receiving the “think pink” diagnosis years back? If the instinct to procreate is supposed to be about propagating your genes, doesn’t it go along those lines that that mission feels incomplete until the children’s lives are fully launched and they have reached “cruising altitude”? That they have work and family that give anchor – purpose and meaning – to their lives? That they have people and institutions in their lives that will care for them in their parents’ absence? Maybe my disappointment about my changed life expectations is not about what I would miss; maybe it was about a desire to ensure my child’s long term well-being?
Well, that came and went. I have lived to see and wallow in the joy's of the Lil Momma graduating from college, falling in love with a man who I believe was hand picked for her, having a fulfilling job, marrying and giving our family the greatest gift of all, the Webbman. For this opportunity, this Mom is extremely “thankful”.
Years back, I soul searched about the Lil Momma and her ability to function in a world without her lunatic Mother, despite the fact that I have been told many times “she is way more together than I will EVER be“. I had always looked forward to my “golden years“, seeing them as a time when I would be free of the compulsion to work for a living, a time when I could enjoy traveling, and if I were lucky, to be there to share my grandchildren. The “think pink/cancer diagnosis of years past” had me worried that those types of “longer-term” plans would not pan out quite the way I had hoped. The most heartbreaking recalibration was the clear and present danger of the possibility of not being able to know my child as an adult, not knowing her spouse, not being able to cheer them on as a married couple from the sidelines, not being present to their children. Maybe, just maybe, there was an evolutionary basis to this reaction to receiving the “think pink” diagnosis years back? If the instinct to procreate is supposed to be about propagating your genes, doesn’t it go along those lines that that mission feels incomplete until the children’s lives are fully launched and they have reached “cruising altitude”? That they have work and family that give anchor – purpose and meaning – to their lives? That they have people and institutions in their lives that will care for them in their parents’ absence? Maybe my disappointment about my changed life expectations is not about what I would miss; maybe it was about a desire to ensure my child’s long term well-being?
Well, that came and went. I have lived to see and wallow in the joy's of the Lil Momma graduating from college, falling in love with a man who I believe was hand picked for her, having a fulfilling job, marrying and giving our family the greatest gift of all, the Webbman. For this opportunity, this Mom is extremely “thankful”.
The most recent “state of lumpiness” was such a powerful “evolution of emotion”. So different than the battle years back. It was a moment when “the lens shifted”, when I began to see life through the eyes of my grandmother ~ something so profound and meaningful that I know I will quite certainly be remiss in describing the emotions, but of course, I am going to give it a shot.
Having lost my Mom to a long, arduous, painful battle with “a state of lumpiness” when I was in High School, I have always felt the mind boggling emptiness and persistent sadness of being a “parentless” parent. Let me clarify, I didn’t “lose” her, I know where she went” and thankfully, my Dad lived long enough to be an amazing “PawPaw” to the Lil Momma, although he has passed on too now. It always tugged at my heart at the “lost opportunities” that accompany “parentless” parenting. That the Lil Momma never really got to hug or hear my Mom, her Grandma Carol, I found myself finding ways to memorialize who she was and looked for ways to bring her into the Lil Momma’s life long after her death. I am proud of the job I did with that. I believe the Lil Momma has a sense of her Grandma Carol’s perseverance, composure, beauty, appreciation for knowledge, love for children, education, style and her family. I have grieved for her that she never really knew my Mom, or either grandmom’s on my side . . . . but with this recent “lumpiness” scare, I began to grieve for the Webbman - of what it may be like to leave this world before having the opportunity to make a lasting contribution (whatever that may be) to his life.
I began to obsess about the Bitsy I may not become! As for the disappointment to the possibility of not being able to become an “engaged” grandmother, for me, it was not so much about passing on the physical genes but it became more about passing on the “cultural” DNA. I wanted to pass on the “touch”, for my hands, the hands that were “touched” by my mother and by my Grandmothers to have an opportunity to touch my grandchildren.
You may wonder “Where the heck did this convoluted wish arise from”. Don’t give it much thought, but I believe it is partly due to the fact that my fondest and most distinct childhood memories are those of my mother and grandmother. The opportunity to pass on their character and sensibility to my grandchildren would be my tribute to their very special lives. If I were to get “lost“ so to speak, there would be one less “Murphy-Moran-Turcotte” to represent and convey our “founding” sensibilities. Not just “why” the Lord put me on this earth, but about what makes us the people who we are. That our “culture" is not just about the smells, sounds and colors, but it is also about a way of walking proudly in this world, about compassion, justice and kindness towards all. It’s about generational “wisdom” and family stories, favorite recipes and holiday traditions, shared joys and sorrows, support not offered and not received. This “lumpiness scare” and my newfound insight into my motivations for wanting to live to be old and grey have brought me comfort. At the very least, I am dealing with it rationally and thanking the good Lord for the challenge. It helped me “map” what I need to do for the Lil Momma, Precious and Webbman. Thus, the evolution of the Webbman blog . . . . . “rising to an unexpected challenge”, realizing that if nothing else, the time pondering my humanity due to the “unknown state of lumpiness” spurred me to see the “blueprint” for what I should take up next – start writing the long “thought” about, continuously “talked” about . . . . “LOVE STORY” between a Bitsy and her little man! So, stay tuned . . . . . Bitsy has got lots of “generational wisdom” to bestow upon Webb!
I began to obsess about the Bitsy I may not become! As for the disappointment to the possibility of not being able to become an “engaged” grandmother, for me, it was not so much about passing on the physical genes but it became more about passing on the “cultural” DNA. I wanted to pass on the “touch”, for my hands, the hands that were “touched” by my mother and by my Grandmothers to have an opportunity to touch my grandchildren.
You may wonder “Where the heck did this convoluted wish arise from”. Don’t give it much thought, but I believe it is partly due to the fact that my fondest and most distinct childhood memories are those of my mother and grandmother. The opportunity to pass on their character and sensibility to my grandchildren would be my tribute to their very special lives. If I were to get “lost“ so to speak, there would be one less “Murphy-Moran-Turcotte” to represent and convey our “founding” sensibilities. Not just “why” the Lord put me on this earth, but about what makes us the people who we are. That our “culture" is not just about the smells, sounds and colors, but it is also about a way of walking proudly in this world, about compassion, justice and kindness towards all. It’s about generational “wisdom” and family stories, favorite recipes and holiday traditions, shared joys and sorrows, support not offered and not received. This “lumpiness scare” and my newfound insight into my motivations for wanting to live to be old and grey have brought me comfort. At the very least, I am dealing with it rationally and thanking the good Lord for the challenge. It helped me “map” what I need to do for the Lil Momma, Precious and Webbman. Thus, the evolution of the Webbman blog . . . . . “rising to an unexpected challenge”, realizing that if nothing else, the time pondering my humanity due to the “unknown state of lumpiness” spurred me to see the “blueprint” for what I should take up next – start writing the long “thought” about, continuously “talked” about . . . . “LOVE STORY” between a Bitsy and her little man! So, stay tuned . . . . . Bitsy has got lots of “generational wisdom” to bestow upon Webb!
Speaking of the Webbman, and I am - Happy 4 month birthday to you fella!
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| Do that to me again Nurse Nancy and my Bitsy is coming to whip your butt. Updated 4 month stats: The Webbman weighed in at a whopping 15.3 pounds, 50% weight growth range. The Webbman heighted in at another whopping 25.3 inches at 75% growth range. He will begin to dine on fruits tomorrow! |
You have shared such happy news, and such sweet memories. I need some kleenex but that's not a bad thing. Love you.
ReplyDeleteAwwwwwwwww Jj, thanks, but put the kleenex away unless you have a cold. This Bitsy is A-OK. I sure hope your Momma recovers nicely and is feeling good. Love you.
ReplyDelete