Mom in the Mirror

Heading to the hospital

As some of you may remember, I had surgery a year and a half ago to remove benign tumors (adenomas) in my liver, and now I am scheduled to have surgery on my liver again to address more adenomas that have grown since my last operation. The surgery is scheduled for Friday, Jan. 11 at Shands Hospital in Gainesville, Florida. They expect I'll be in the hospital there 7-10 days, then recovering at home for 6-8 weeks.

You can keep track of my progress and send messages by going to: http://www.carepages.com

Once there, click "Visit a CarePage." You'll need to register the first time you use the site, then you'll need to log in to view updates. To access my information, enter this exact CarePage Name: JulieMMoos

Be well, and I'll be in touch soon on this blog or elsewhere.

Julie

Still here

Forgive me readers, for it has been many months since my last blogfession. Since it's the Days of Awe, between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I ask your forgiveness. I've neglected you not because you are unimportant, only because I have been focusing my attention elsewhere (mostly on work and family). In the spirit of t'shuvah, I return. May you be sealed for a good year. May we all.

"My I Poem"

As his elementary school years come to an end, one of Colter's 5th grade projects has been to write a memoir. It's been a fascinating process and yet another reason I love his teacher -- she knows so well what kids need at this stage in their lives, and what parents need to help us all have closure and move forward. Here's a poem Colter wrote as part of his memoir:

My I Poem
by Colter Lee Moos

I love life
I love video games
I'm 10
I have brown eyes & hair
I'm [in my opinion] funny
I enjoy math
I trust in my brain
I'm prepared for middle school
I play basketball
I hate green food
I dislike sushi
I watch TV
I know I'll die
I will create video games
I want to be rich
I have good friends
I like fun
I enjoy company
I'm turning 11 this week
I'm happy
I can sail
I can speak another language
I believe in myself
I've lost 3 grandparents
I taught someone to sail

Now, write your own "I" poem.

One shining moment for moms everywhere

Whether or not you're a Florida Gators fan, last night's national championship victory was notable, if for no other reason than this: Joakim Noah celebrated on the court with his teammates and coach, then headed up (and up and up) into the stands until he found the one person he most wanted to hug, his mother. And he looked like he'd never let go. What mother wouldn't be proud of that?

(Photo shown above courtesy of the Associated Press, taken during a tournament game last month. Noah is hugging his mother while his father watches in the background.)

It's all a blur

Gary took this picture of Colter playing basketball. See how quickly time passes even as we try to capture & enjoy it?

If at first you don't succeed...

I heard Colter's voice calling me from the bathroom the other day, "Mommy, 'If at first you don't succeed, redefine success!' I read it in The New Yorker."

My 10-year-old son was sitting in the bathroom, reading The New Yorker. OK, it was a cartoon. But honestly, that's why I buy the magazine, so who am I to judge?

Plus, the cartoon's caption captured perfectly my feelings about 2006 as it comes to a close.

These days, I define success as:

• Surviving
• Enjoying the moment: Reading a lot, rediscovering television, knitting
• Celebrating my son for snuggling softly and carefully with me, developing his unnatural athleticism so well he was drafted in the first round for a Community Center basketball team, receiving straight A's during his most emotionally difficult semester
• Appreciating my husband's strength, sensitivity and sense of humor
• Connecting kindly with the world

I've been inspired by many great quotes about life, love, work, success, failure and more, compiled here. I've learned that success often looks and feels like failure. But as long as the clock is ticking forward, we go on. And the clock always ticks forward. We can't know where its progressing path will lead us. We can just follow it, one second, minute, hour, day at a time.

If there's one song that describes this year for me, it's "Another Day" from "Rent."

There is no future
There is no past
I live this moment as my last
There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret
Or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today ...

There's only yes
Only tonight
We must let go
To know what's right
No other course
No other way
No day but today ...

There's only now
There's only here
Give in to love
Or live in fear
No other path
No other way
No day but today.

May the days to come be healthy and happy ones for you and all you love.

Back in the driver's seat

As I sat reprogramming radio stations in my car, I remembered the early days of my relationship with Gary, before he was my husband, when he was my friend and I bought him tickets to see Bonnie Raitt in concert for his birthday.

A few months later, our song became "Something to Talk About." When we got married, it became "All I Have." And once Colter came into our lives it was "The Things We've Handed Down." Still, our musical tastes are decades and genders apart. Time and compromise help us bridge the gap.

I was reprogramming the radio stations because I'm reclaiming my car. Last week we bought Gary a used Volvo station wagon to replace his old Toyota, which hasn't run since summer. We finally need two cars again because I'm heading back to work tomorrow.

I'm starting with half-days for a few weeks, in preparation for returning fulltime after New Year's. I'm excited. Nervous. Excited. Nervous. Excited. And nervous.

But mostly I'm so grateful for my good fortune. I'm finally healthy enough to concentrate on something other than when I can next take my medicine; I'm finally healthy enough to sit at the computer, respond to e-mail, write a little, edit a lot. I'm finally healthy enough to drive again.

I'm going from being driven to being driven: energetic, moved, motivated. I'm back in the driver's seat, with a license to live, love, laugh. And listen to whatever music I want.

Stitch by stitch

This has been a long week filled with firsts:

• I drove for the first time since my surgery.
• I spent a half-day at work for the first time in almost eight months.
• Colter got straight A's and made "principal's list" for the first time in his academic career.

These were some challenging days that reminded me why closets have doors and people have skin. Life is messy. And fragile.

Our old bodies, older dreams, and oldest emotions gather dust; our good intentions no longer fit, yet still pile up in the closets of our minds and our bedrooms. We need ways to let go -- of who we were, what we wanted, what was.

We need to knit.

I spent some time this week with a woman who taught me to knit differently than I remember my grandmother doing decades ago.

As my new teacher showed me how to handle the needles and yarn, I felt so stupid and so wise, doing nothing and everything at the same time. With each movement, I learned when to tighten my hold and when to release it; I learned to trust the pattern to emerge, row by row; I learned that bold threads, soothing textures, and warm women can create a community of faith and patience.

With my wooden needles, I felt myself knitting together a new life, stitch by stitch.

What faith is

I feel like I've been falling.

Sometimes it's a slow fall, and I can almost feel the bungee cord pulling me back up to the bridge that carries me across days filled with pain, disappointment and frustration.

Sometimes it's a fast fall, and all I feel is my rapidly-beating heart, racing out of my body on some flight plan it hasn't filed with my head.

Most times it's somewhere in between, a medium fall that disorients, confuses and confounds me so I lose track of where I am.

I am afraid I will never stop falling. Or maybe I'm afraid of what will happen if I do stop falling. Where will my fall end? Where will I end up?

I'm a veteran of the trust wars. I've battled for years against trusting myself, trusting other people, trusting God. And that's why faith has been my safety net. Faith doesn't require trust. It just requires itself; it requires faith.

Faith that no matter how hard or fast I fall, I will always be caught.

Lightning strikes for the first time

Early Saturday morning, the phone rang. Colter's friend was inviting him to the Tampa Bay Lightning game that night. The crowd, the fights, the noise, the smells, the strangers, my baby. How could I say yes? The excitement, the freedom, the junk food, the thrill of victory, the new experience. How could I say no?

For 10 years I've been holding on to my son, protecting him. But this weekend I knew the time had come to start trusting he could begin protecting himself.

We left the decision up to Colter. Because he's never been to a hockey game, we described for him what it might be like in the arena: very loud, very bright, very sticky. We told him if he went it'd be with his dad's cell phone and asked him what he'd do if he got separated from his friend and his friend's father. He thought for a moment, then said he'd call his friend's father, whose number is programmed into the phone. His smart solution confirmed my confidence in him.

I called only once early in the evening to see how things were going, then he called twice to tell me about the score and the foam finger he bought. When he got home late that night, he woke me up to kiss me and then told Gary it was the best night of his life.

It may have been our finest moment as parents.

Colter needs to start living more independently, and I've got to start letting go. I will struggle with when and how to hold on loosely and let go safely, how to help him recognize risk and manage it. I will help him ask questions rather than assume I know all the answers.

Because it will be the choices he makes that determines who he is, not the choices we make for him.

Someone's growing up, and I'm pretty sure it's me.

Inspiration wherever I can find it

I'm a bit of a quotation collector. I find inspiration wherever I can, from my favorite cards to church marquees, I'm not picky about the source.

This week, I found inspiration in McDreamy and McCann.

In a TV Guide interview, Patrick Dempsey said: "I don't need to know where I'm going, I just need to know where I'm coming from." He was talking about acting on "Grey's Anatomy" without knowing future plot twists, but who among us has the script for the rest of our lives?

Before I had surgery in July, I put together a collection of healing quotes to keep near me during my hospital stay. While I was recovering, I saw a TV commercial for some medication and was moved and motivated by the song playing in the background. I've since learned the song was "I Will Be," sung by Lila McCann:

I will be here
I will be strong
I'll face my fears when the night is long
And still go on
I will be brave
I will be bold
Follow my faith to a higher road
And I'm not there yet
But I will be

I will be.

For great quotations about writing, see "And I Quote" by Chip Scanlan, a friend and Poynter colleague. He includes this collection of his favorites.

What inspires you?

That's just life sneaking up on you

How did my days get so full? It seems like only yesterday I was in bed watching TV and recovering, venturing out to get my hair cut or buy books (wait, that was yesterday), and suddenly here's what's coming next month:

• My sister is visiting (I can't wait!)
• Gary is going to travel for the first time since I got sick (I'm excited for him, but I'll have to be Colter's chaffeur for two days and I haven't yet started driving again!)
• I'm returning to work (I'm excited for me!)

Then in November, Gary is going to travel after I'm back at work (still excited, but now worried about rushing around too much between my job and Colter's school). And after I get through that, we fly to Chicago for Thanksgiving. I can't wait to see my family, I just can't imagine that I'm capable of all this activity.

I keep telling myself to take it one breath at a time and then I will be ready when each moment arrives. Or, if I'm not, I can adjust accordingly.

But change is hard. And I wanna live easy.

Day 3: Withdrawal

For the third day in a row, I'm taking no morphine so I can slowly get weaned off the heavy narcotics and return to work at the end of next month.

As a result, I'm finding life a little rough around the edges. Part of it is the pain I feel between the time one of the short-acting pain relievers wears off and the next one takes effect. Part of it is other stress.

Recovery is slow, but sure. The best therapy so far: At Colter's student-led school conference yesterday, in front of his peers, he pulled me and Gary into a family hug and said, "I love you." For that and his excellent academic work he got dinner in the TV room while we watched the season premiere of "Gilmore Girls." This week, I liked "Studio 60" better. It surprised me more. And in entertainment, surprises are good.

May you merit many years

I learned earlier this week that "May you merit many years" is the traditional New Year's greeting of the Calcutta Jewish community. It says so much more to me this year than L'Shanah Tovah (which means "Happy New Year") or even "May you be inscribed and sealed in the book of life for a good year." Although, just to be clear, I definitely want to be inscribed in the book of life for a good year.

I also learned that in many Jewish homes, the traditional apples and honey are accompanied on Rosh Hashanah by a pomegranate, so "its many seeds can symbolize our hope that each of us will do many good deeds and enjoy many blessings in the coming year."

However you celebrate the holiday, if you do, I wish you and your families peace, good health and every happiness.

Tween tales

The end began when we discovered the children's menu at Outback is for kids under 10 years old. Then, we went to Joe's Crab Shack last week and even though their children's menu is for kids ages 12 and younger, Colter ordered off the regular menu and ate an entire plate of steamed snow crab clusters. He's become a very expensive date.

But just to remind us that he's still a kid, he called Gary into the room the other night to kill a mosquito for him. Of course, shortly after, I did the same thing and I'm supposed to be a grownup. Who's your family's bug killer?

Scary setbacks

It could have been cracking crablegs for Colter, it could have been walking in the heat to the Renaissance festival, but most likely it was sitting down in the grass (then getting up) that set my lower back into spasms which kept me in bed from Friday night until this morning.

The thing is, even though I knew it was my back, I felt terrified that it was really my liver, complications from the surgery, the beginning of the end. Again. Granted, I'm prone to catastrophic thinking. And the increased medication only depressed me further, even though it helped relax my muscles and heal them. Nevertheless, there was no rationalizing away the terror that surrounded me and the blame I carried (I was feeling so well I got arrogant, careless, stupid).

Not coincidentally, Colter's behavior began to deteriorate Saturday when he spent hours off and on screaming because we didn't have Chef Boyardee cheese ravioli or Popeye's biscuits and then screaming again Tuesday when Gary wouldn't go to Smokey Bones to get him a cheeseburger.

In my head, I know we can help him manage his behavior better  -- especially after a session by phone yesterday with his psychologist that reminded us of the bottom line on setting and enforcing limits: Gary needs to soften up and I need to toughen up. It helped that Colter came home very happy from school yesterday and so it was easier for him to be on his best behavior all night.

And I know there's no reason to believe I'm slipping down the kind of downhill decline I've seen others face after a difficult illness.

But in my heart, I'm still so afraid. And the slightest setback is enough to unlock the bad dreams and monsters that haunt me. The fact is: the future is uncertain -- Colter's, mine, our family's. And there's nothing scarier to me than that.

The afterschool snack

In case this secret hasn't yet been revealed: I'm not the cook in our family. Gary is the chef and worth his weight in coriander. He always has been and always will be, because the food I'm capable of serving is barely edible and the dishes he creates would make us millionaires if he ever wanted to open a restaurant.

So, although Colter has become accustomed to afternoon snacks like cheese quesadillas or grilled tuna sandwiches, he doesn't generally require haute cuisine at 4 p.m. Theoretically, I'm capable of feeding him this one mini-meal. Except that until this month, I've never been home to provide it.

Now that I am, giving him a plate of carrots with Ranch dressing brings me more satisfaction than I ever would have thought possible.

I'll miss many things about being home when I return to work in the next month or so, and the afternoon snack will definitely make the list.

Happy birthday, baby

Gary (see below, left) turns 49 today, but he doesn't look a day over 10 (see below, right). Or maybe it's just that he doesn't act a day over 10. Whatever. I love him.

Guided by goals

For so long, my only plan has been to wake up in the morning, get out of bed, and walk around a bit. Then, I started feeling better and was able to eat meals at the table, read books in my big, stuffed chair, even answer e-mail and keep my blogs updated. Soon other responsibilities crept in (seeing friends, writing thank you notes), and before I knew it, I had goals again.

I'm trying to limit myself to one a day so I don't overdo it, but of course these aren't mico-goals, these are medium to large undertakings, driven mostly by time-sensitive events, so I suddenly also have deadlines for these tasks:

• Revise job description (due today)
• Prepare for Gary's birthday (tomorrow)
• Send Jewish New Year's cards (by Friday)

On the one hand, it feels fantastic to have real and meaningful things to do, and it feels even better to see progress as I cross things off my list. On the other hand, I feel pressure for the first time in months.

Somehow, I need to find a mode between turbo speed and total rest so that I can accomplish what's important to me without sacrificing my health and homelife. Suggestions?

Asserting independence: From bath to shower

Except for those rare times when he's sick and regresses to a state of infancy, Colter showers each morning, instead of taking baths at night. Like most milestones, this one arrived unannounced. He never warned me, "Hey mom, this is going to be my last bath, enjoy it while you can. I'll be a young man soon." If he had, I might have felt the way the fictional Juliet Applebaum did, as she describes it in Ayelet Waldman's latest Mommy Track mystery, "Bye-Bye, Black Sheep":

"I knelt down next to the tub ... I wondered, how old were little boys when they began demanding protection from their mothers' gaze? It seemed so impossible to imagine. I'd grown him inside of me, created him. Those toes I nibbled on, the knees poking up from the water, didn't they belong to me? Isaac dunked his head again, striking out with his legs and catching me in the stomach. The air escaped from my lungs in a rush, making it dramatically clear that this little person was asserting dominion over his own body, that it was separate from me, and belonged to him alone."

I can tell you how old they are when they start protecting their bodies from prying eyes: 10. The real mystery is: At what age do they start putting down the toilet seat, flushing, and washing their hands after they pee?

The danger of Mommy Mode

No matter how nurturing I am to Colter during the day, if I let him he'd kill me in my sleep. Not no purpose, of course. But still.

Last night after his fever went down slightly, he fell asleep and I waited to hear the wail. It came a few hours later, accompanied by vomit (now that he's 10, at least he makes it to the bathroom before spewing). I gave him a bath, read to him, and then let him curl up in my bed to rest.

Colter's been kicking me in the stomach and back since before he was born. And for many years he slept with me and Gary and did the same. But that was then. And this is now.

Now, when I've just let Gary return to our bed because I've been so sensitive to the slightest movements since my surgery.

But I sympathize with the sick -- especially when the sick is my son -- so I let him sleep soundly while I stayed half-awake all night guarding my abdomen and its 23-inch scar. Until 7:30 a.m. when I gently touched his forehead (still feverish) and he woke up to find Daddy and play video games.

I went back to sleep, unguarded.

The things we do for love

Colter came down with a fever today, and suddenly the fact that I was tired and uncomfortable and in some pain myself became irrelevant as I cocooned him in his favorite blanket, contorted my body to wrap it around his while watching "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," and got up and down for medicine, drinks, and washcloths to cool him.

Hours later, he's not as warm, his eyes aren't as glassy, and I know he feels secure enough to be by himself for a little while. I'm exhausted, but so grateful I could take care of him after he spent months helping take care of me. I feel like a mom again for the first time in so long. How ironic: it was sickness that reversed our roles and sickness that normalized them.

Honoring simplicity

As I continue recovering, I learn over and over to appreciate the tiniest details of daily life -- waking up well-rested, a good book to read, that steaming cup of tea beside me. Since this blog is my "life reflected," I've streamlined the design and removed some extra elements from the margins. I also want to start writing more regularly again. Some topics I plan to tackle:

• Which cat am I?
• "I love you unprovisionally."
• The virtues of the phone
• You gave me a son and I gave him back
• All in or all out: "Gilmore Girls" premieres

I'm not sure whether I'm up to writing daily, but I'll commit to more often than monthly now that I'm out of bed more than I'm in it, out of the house a few times a week (browsing bookstores, seeing my new therapist, shopping at Super Target), and generally rejoining the world. Thanks for being a part of it.

Beginning again

Colter started 5th grade yesterday and I was home to hear all about it.

Actually, I've been home for a few weeks, but it was in body only for the first little while, when I mostly slept and took my medicine. The surgery went well, but the recovery will be slow nonetheless.

Little by little, I'm coming back.

Right now that means I'm walking a bit more, writing the old-fashioned way (on pencil and paper!), reading, watching TV.

I don't have much energy, and what I have I try to save for Colter, who has been amazing all summer and is so glad to be back to the structure of school, and for Gary, who has been shouldering a load heavier than anyone should have to, and has been so quiet and strong about it. The gift of these last few months has been how much we've grown together as a family and how much closer we've grown to friends and all our other loved ones.

Tomorrow, Gary and I make the three-hour drive to Gainesville to have the staples removed from my incision and then we'll come back home for more recovery.

Every step of the way, I feel so fortunate to have so much support. I don't know where I'd be without you all.

And by that I do mean YOU. Thank you all so much for the e-mails, comments, good wishes and prayers. They remind me that I'm connected to a community that is pulling for me as hard as it can. You inspire me with your resilience and grace at starting anew each day.

And speaking of new beginnings, here's some information on the upcoming season of "Gilmore Girls":

• Season premiere: Sept. 26, 2006 -- "The Long Morrow"
• TV Guide's Michael Ausiello has read the season premiere script and describes it
• Ausiello interviewed new GG show runner David Rosenthal about what viewers can expect this year
• Scoops from Ausiello beyond the Rosenthal interview
• Spoilers (actual script pages) from Genevieve
• For those of you wondering what happened to GG creator Amy Sherman-Palladino, she's got a development deal at Fox now

I'm gonna be OK

Because tonight at around 3:15 a.m. while I was watching "Sports Night" on DVD, I saw a mama racooon and her half-dozen babies walk through a small pond in our backyard looking for food.

Because last week a mama bird left her two babies in our backyard and we watched them learn to fly.

Because I have a son to raise and he's planning to sing this blessing to me Saturday morning when he first sees me after surgery.

Meanwhile, if you're someone who prays -- through music, words, watching the sunrise -- here's one for anyone who is sick, broken, in need of healing. In other words: for all of us.

Mi she berach avoteinu
M'kor hab'racha l'imoteinu
May the source of strength,
Who blessed the ones before us
Help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing
And let us say: Amen.

Mi she berach imoteinu
M'kor hab'racha l'avoteinu
Bless those in need of healing with r'fuah sh'leima
The renewal of body, the renewal of spirit,
And let us say: Amen