by macewan on October 24, 2007
Hey there I'm Robert MacEwan the author of Ideal Absolutes. If you're new to macewan.org, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed.
I realized a long time ago that having kids just wasn’t for me. This was a conscious decision based on my knowledge of my family’s genetics and not those of my neighbors (don’t get me started).
That doesn’t mean I don’t like kids (I have two grandsons that I absolutely adore). However, I’ve watched my step-daughter go from a teenager, to a married woman, to a mother. There have a few bumps along the way, though. She had a rough time after her second son was born, just 19 months after her first, and was really fortunate to recognize it for what it was. She wasn’t a bad mother or a bad wife, she was suffering from postpartum depression. We’ve had some family experience with depression and my step-daughter was lucky enough to have access to a great doctor. I know, though, that not every woman is in that position.
BlogHer.com has set aside today to make people aware of postpartum depression and express their support for The Mother’s Day Act. Here’s a link to my step-daughter’s story Reflections on The Mother’s Day Act and please, take the time to check out BlogHer.com’s site, as well. With family support and maybe even medication, postpartum depression can be just another bump in the road of becoming a parent and the new moms suffering from it can go on to be the great moms they always knew they could be.
by macewan on September 12, 2007
Val woke up at 4:00 a.m. this morning with a horrid migraine. As usual, she tried to medicate it away without waking me. Imitrex (100 mgs) will do the trick almost every time. Not today — by 6:00 a.m. — I knew she was in big trouble. I brought her another round of meds, this time supplementing the Imitrex with Vicodin and Phenengren so she would sleep and maybe get some relief.
Taking care of my wife, Val, is my number one objective. We’ll be married 10 years on Oct. 1 and together for a few more than that. A few years into our relationship, we found out Val had fibromyalgia, four herniated vertebral disks, and a particularly aggressive type of osteoarthritis attacking her hands, knees and feet.
When Val has a flare-up from the fibro, a migraine, or a particularly bad time with the arthritis, I try to help as much as I can. Today that meant staying home and keeping the house going while Val recovered.
Keeping the house going? What does that involve? I’m so glad you asked. In between worrying about Val and making sure she could keep some food down and was comfortable in bed, there are two Jack Russell Terriers, a Scottie, a severely developmentally challenged cat, and my mother-in-law. Ruth. When I have to actively participate in Ruth’s daily care, it’s necessary for me to leave “son-in-law” behind and don the cape and tights of “Super Home Health Primary Care Man”. (Val made the suit for me, it’s really nice… kind of a Green Hornet meets Swamp Thing look.)
First thing this 90 year-old greets me with is a discussion about how constipated she is. She’s “got to have some relief!” and she means NOW DAMMIT. Val is passed out from her meds (that’s a good thing, if she were awake, she’d be practically screaming with pain, those of you who love someone who suffer from migraines or who has them knows what I mean.) I’m searching through all the cabinets, wondering what to do. I remember a few months ago when Ruth took 12 tablespoons of Milk of Magnesia and we thought she would die. Heck, she thought she would die. Today it’s just 3 tablespoons.
While Val slept, I began an Internet search for an ergonomic mouse. My search took me to a 1997 design joy-stick. Obviously this is going to be harder than I originally thought. More on my ergonomic mouse search in a post this evening or tomorrow. Let me see what else I find…
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by macewan on September 11, 2007
We made plans early last week to host a cook-out on Saturday. Hot dogs for little boys. Alaskan salmon burgers for the adults. Frito chili-pie for desert. Jane helped Ruth travel slowly down the backporch stairs as Val got the charcoal going. I moved the furniture to the center lawn of the backyard. Tables, chairs, Tonka trucks and other amusements for Oliver and Emmett with special attention paid to Ollie’s “tools” because he said, “Let’s get busy. We need to work. This place is a mess…” I brought out all the food and plates, made a quick second run to Food Lion for some more buns…
The coals were ready. The meat began to sizzle. Everyone laughed. Life was good. The un-storm would not be paying us a visit. In the garage, Val found yet another Tonka truck from her 1950s childhood to give to Emmett for some backyard flowerbed backhoe work. I just realized something as I typed that — the unmentionable fiends who emptied my garage of all tools, screws, nails and lawn implements did not take the most valuable items. 
Photo of Ruth, Val’s 90 year old Mom, who lives with us. And the dog? Linus the Jack Russell terrier.
So the world was a fun place for our family. For about five minutes. Then the flies came. Their numbers increased exponentially within about 45 seconds. Unbelievable. It must be the drought. No point to this ramble, actually… except possibly about how nice it is to have family. And the disappointment we all felt when we couldn’t let the boys run around the yard and play while we ate and enjoyed Val’s amazing garden.
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by macewan on September 4, 2007
Ruth memorizes poetry and rhymes. It’s been a mental hobby of hers since she was a little girl. Being 90 and suffering from mild dementia seems to bring the poetry back, makes it important to her.
She told me “I listened to and then memorized just about everything my family said. Much to their chagrin. When I was around four years old, my sister Helen was practicing for a part in a play. She left her playbook at school and was in a frenzy to remember her lines. Apparently my mother told her to put little Ruthie in the bathtub with all of the bath toys. Then she should close the door and wait. Sure enough, as Helen stood outside the door, I repeated word-for-word almost all of her lines as I staged my own play with my waterbabies.”
I can hear her voice as it faintly echoes up the stairs from her room. She often repeats childhood rhymes to the cat, Thisbe who is a very avid listener. Here’s the one I just heard (I admit, I had to get Val to transcribe it for me.)
“Jaybird tote a two-wheeled wagon,
sparrow why don’t you?
My little legs so slim and slendah
‘fraid they break in two.”
The only time I ever hear her use a southern accent is when she repeats childhood rhymes. Her family is from Cincinnati, Ohio. So was Val’s dad’s family. They didn’t move south until 1963. Her mind is filled with poetry so we buy her compilations of verse when we go to BAM.
Yesterday, Val told me she heard Ruth singing this:
“Who takes care of the caretaker’s daughter while the caretaker’s busy taking care?”
I’m encouraging Val to join The Family Caregiver Alliance. I should also join, since I take care of Val… odd circle, isn’t it?
