More Than a Papa

It's Father's Day here tomorrow, and I want to dedicate this post to the first man I ever loved: my Dad.

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Neither Jeff nor I grew up with grandfathers in our lives. Jeff never knew his, and by the time I was five years old, both of mine were gone.

Evie is lucky to have four grandparents who love her - and she loves - very much. 

But there's one who holds a very special place in her heart and in our life.

When he pulls into the garage and opens the door to come into the house, he is met with a greeting from Evie that no one else receives. No matter where she is in the house, or what she's doing, she ceases all goings on, and screams, "PAPAAAAA!"

She knows that when Papa arrives, she's going to get some very special one-on-one time with him.

I happen to know all about this special one-on-one time. Because when I was Evie's age, I got that same special treatment. But back then he wasn't known as Papa. I simply called him Dad.

My dad has been there for us from day one of Jeff's injury. He was the first person I called after Jeff had been loaded into the ambulance. He met us at the hospital, and he drove Evie back to our house that night while I dealt with the shock and confusion following Jeff's accident.

A couple years later, when my family moved to Las Vegas to be closer to Jeff's parents, my dad followed suit. And over the last few years, I've not only grown closer to my father, I've also watched him develop special relationships with both Jeff and Evie.

He's not just a father-in-law to Jeff, he's also a great friend. And that means so much more than I can express - to both me and to Jeff. While Jeff still has his buddies in his life, he mainly interacts with them online. So face-to-face interaction is rare. That's where my Dad comes in. They watch sports together, and love talking about football, basketball, and golf. If there's days where Jeff can't get out of bed, my Dad pulls a chair into the bedroom so they can watch TV together. A couple years ago, Jeff got my dad hooked on Game of Thrones, and while Evie was at school, and I was busy doing work around the house, they binge watched the entire series! They talk about everything, even things you aren't supposed to talk about like politics and religion. Their views might not align exactly, but they respect one another and can have a level-headed discussion. My Dad's ability to intelligently engage with Jeff on a variety of topics is invaluable. And it's something Jeff needs. It's the type of interaction that fills Jeff's tank and keeps him looking forward to another day. 

And then there's his relationship with Evie. They are two peas in a pod, and have made some lasting memories together over the past few years. On the issue of full transparency, Evie bosses him around something fierce. But that's what I love about my Dad. He lets Evie decide what they do. He lets her call the shots for once. He does things with HER in mind. Some days they swim. Some days they bike ride. Some days they paint. Some days they do all of these, and more! And on those days, my poor Dad is worn out by the end of the day. And so is Evie. But on those days my and Jeff's hearts are so full.

Because on days where my Dad spends a lot of time with Evie, those are the days Jeff and I can't spend time with her. Those are the days when Jeff needs me by his side - either because I have a lot of maintenance work to do on him, or because he needs extra care, like this wound that has been pestering us of late. There is nothing - and I mean nothing better - than when Jeff and I are stuck inside, forced by necessity to put his SCI first, and we can hear Papa and Evie laughing in the backyard together. There's no better feeling knowing that your child is happy. And on the hard days, Papa makes that possible for us.

About a week ago, I was putting Jeff back to bed. We'd had a great evening with my Dad. He'd played with Evie earlier in the day, then we had dinner together, and watched a movie as a family. And as I was putting the sling around Jeff to transfer him into bed, I noticed tears welling up in his eyes. I grabbed the tissue and wiped. He looked up at me with so much emotion on his face and in his voice. "I'm so thankful for your Dad," he told me quietly. "I mean, you're my hands and feet in a way that you keep me alive every day. But he's my hands and feet in a different way. He plays with Evie in ways I can't anymore. And I'm so grateful for that."

My Dad has often told me that being my father is one of his life's greatest accomplishments. Learning from him and applying characteristics he instilled in me like responsibility, independence, and compassion are among mine, especially in recent years. We always try to tell my Dad how much we love him and how much we appreciate his company and his help. But I don't know if he realizes he's so much more than that. 

More than a Dad.

More than a Father-in-Law.

More than a Papa.

We love you so much, Dad.

xoxo

I'm a Caregiver and a Wife and a Mother - Here's What I Want

I wish I could say that the new year has started off with a bang - that we're all feeling good and heading into this new decade with smiles on our faces.

But writing that would be a lie.

This month has been hard. This last week has been incredibly trying. Maybe it has something to do with the heaviness felt, especially here in the US, since the tragic helicopter crash. When things like that happen, life for everyone else is supposed to take on a new perspective. Make us feel grateful for the things we have.

And I am. My god, I am truly and deeply grateful for my husband and my daughter.

But even with tragedy looming large, that doesn't mean my family's difficulties are any less. I wish I could sweep our stresses under the rug. I wish I could take off my husband's spinal cord injury like an old worn out suit, put it in the trash, and watch it be whisked away every Monday morning.

But stresses like that, caregiver stresses in particular for me - cannot be discarded so easily.

I've been so angry lately - my emotions so close to the surface. Quick to cry, quick to let out a defeated sigh - with even the smallest provocation.

Jeff spent a week in the hospital in mid-January, and even though he's home now, he still isn't feeling great. He came home with a wound on his rear end from his hospital stay, and it took us the last two weeks to get it to the point where it's almost healed. That's a lot of extra patience for him (he's only got out of bed twice in the last fourteen days) and a lot of extra diligence for me (daily wound care, propping of legs, checking for pressure relief, etc.).

In addition, I've finally admitted that I'm drowning in the administrative side of Jeff's care. And things like self-care, quality time with our daughter, and sleep have all gotten lost in the goulash of life.

Last night I had a breakdown. As a caregiver, as a wife, as a mother. I cried in front of Jeff and Evie. I told them bluntly that I need more from them.

I absolutely hate turning the spotlight on myself. I am acutely aware that I am not the only person in this family suffering. We are all trudging down our life's path, each saddled with more than we can handle.

But one of my jobs is to keep us all on track. And one of the ways I do that is by asking my husband and my daughter every single day, multiple times a day, "What do you need?"

Last night I stood in front of the two people I love the most and told them I feel like a broken record. I am constantly asking them "What do you want? What do you need?" And If I'm not actively asking the question, I'm anticipating what their answers might be, and I'm acting on it.

Then I told them something else. My voice was shaking and my tears were held back only because I was angry too: "No one ever asks me that question."

I sat there in silence for a moment, then said out loud, but really more to myself, "Honestly, I don't even know how I would answer it."

An hour later we all went to bed. But I spent several hours that night thinking about what my answer to that question might be. What do I need?

I immediately thought of the essay "I Want a Wife" by Judy Brady. I first read this essay in college. And my 19-year-old self naively thought upon reading the title that the author was making a statement about her sexual preference. She wasn't. She was making a statement about feminism, particularly listing all of the things a traditional housewife does to keep things running smoothly. The message goes much deeper, but this isn't the post to expand on that. The reason I thought of the essay is that the thing this woman wants isn't too far off from the things that I want.

So as a caregiver, who also happens to be a spouse and a parent, here are the top five things I want:

- I want to stop time so I can catch up on everything that is half done, that's come undone, that hasn't even been started yet. Time is the nemesis of a caregiver, the one who has to be the arms and legs of not only herself, but of another person as well, so being able to manipulate time would be at the top of my list.

- I want five hours of uninterrupted sleep. Just five. I don't want to be greedy and ask for eight. That would probably be too much anyway. I can't imagine what five straight hours of sleep would do for my physical and mental well being.

- I want a clone - an actual physical copy of myself that could do the things I don't have time for. She could schedule and attend my overdue mammogram appointment. Or earlier this month when I was in the hospital with Jeff, she could have kept the follow-up appointment I had to cancel with a cardiologist to check on the status of the fluid around my heart that was discovered on an ultrasound a few months back. She could deal with the stress of this kind of important self-care appointment, then she could come back home and tell me that everything is okay, all while I spend the afternoon tending to my husband and getting him out of bed.

- I want someone to keep me on track. Someone who knows every medication I take, when I take it, and who gives it to me at the right time. I want someone who asks me if my phone is charged before I leave the house. I want someone to remind me to wash my hair. I want someone to tell me when the toilet is going to break and when I'm going to need to schedule in extra time to fix it. I want someone to tell me I need a nap because I've been extra grumpy and could use a little lie down.

- I want someone who worries about me as much as I worry about my husband and my daughter. I want someone who can't sleep at night because they're not sure they're doing everything they can to make sure I am happy and safe. I want someone who puts me first and themselves last because they know they are strong enough to be the engine that pushes me forward.

As you can see, my list is rather preposterous because none of these things exist in my current life. It might be outlandish, but it's true. Because the things caregivers need often aren't tangible. Yes, I can always use help with things around the house, and errands, and dinners, etc. But what I really, truly need is listed in detail above.

Right now though, I would settle for things to go back to the way they used to be. I'm not even talking pre-injury. Jeff and I have fully accepted that his SCI is here to stay. What we'd really like is for things to just get back to him being paralyzed and stable.

This morning as I was getting ready to take Evie to the bus stop, she came up to me and quietly said, "Is there anything you need right now?" I looked into her eyes and smiled. She was listening, and she was trying. I told her, "The only thing I need right now is a hug."

And it helped.

Here's hoping that 2020 starts looking up.