{"id":694,"date":"2009-12-09T10:50:00","date_gmt":"2009-12-09T15:50:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wednesday-december-9-2009\/"},"modified":"2009-12-09T10:50:00","modified_gmt":"2009-12-09T15:50:00","slug":"wednesday-december-9-2009","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wednesday-december-9-2009\/","title":{"rendered":"Wednesday December 9, 2009"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Yesterday was one of those perfect, stay at home days.  It was shivery cold outside and so much fun to be in a warm house.  Between loads of laundry, baking granola (umm, I love how the house smells when I do that), and watching the boys, I felt like a domestic queen.  I love when it feels like that at our house &#8230; happy, restful, cozy, fun.  Candles burning, Christmas music in the background, the boys&#8217; new roaring fire truck with it&#8217;s obnoxious siren, the dryer beeping, giggles  ~ it just all felt so right.<\/p>\n<p>I wish it always felt like that.  I think it helped that (aside from a quick trip to the post office) we stayed home all day and that my to do list was manageable instead of trying to cram two days into one like I do too often.  I have pared back my expectations for myself so far from what they used to be, and yet it seems it is never enough.  Like last week getting ready for the banquet I gave myself three days to get ready.  But I didn&#8217;t factor in sick baby time and ended up doing a 9-1-1 call to my SIL for some help Friday afternoon, David came home early, and I still didn&#8217;t get it all done.  Should moms just not do anything?<\/p>\n<p>How do you know how to find balance between pursuing dreams in your life and just cutting it all out to keep things peaceful?<\/p>\n<p>When I was a teenager my dreams morphed from school teacher to being a nurse.  Apparently it runs in the genes; three of my great aunts are nurses.  My parents stood behind me 101%.  Dad paid 3\/4 of my way through college and Mom did everything from serving me freshly squeezed half frozen orange juice at 5:00 in the morning (I would often get up at 2 or 3 to study a few more hours on exam mornings) to stumbling over words like &#8220;benzodiazepines&#8221; and &#8220;lymphadenopathy&#8221; to quiz me while we did jam deliveries.<\/p>\n<p>Three years later my dreams became reality.  I graduated summa cum laude, was awarded with the highest GPA certificate I&#8217;d worked and worked and worked for, and passed state boards.  But far better then all of that, I got paid to do work that was so much fun for me.  I&#8217;d worked as a patient care assistant the last six months of college to get a feel for real hospital life and to scope out job options.  It didn&#8217;t take long to figure that one out. Hands down, I wanted to work in the CCU.  The excitement of an intensive care unit without a lot of open wounds or post op nausea, and the majority of patients came in very ill but saw rapid recovery.  Plus, the staff there was amazing.  <\/p>\n<p>Oh there were bad days.  Especially in winter when the MICU decided to use us for their overflow and sent us their 500 lb (I am not kidding) patients with contact droplet isolation and multiple decubs.  But even at the end of my three years there, I often felt thrills of delight at being allowed to walk through the &#8220;no admittance past this point&#8221; double doors, to watch an ECHO, to draw blood.  When the nausea in my first pregnancy forced me to quit a few months earlier then I&#8217;d planned, I was devastated.  I said goodbye in a daze, not really believing I would never go back.<\/p>\n<p>The next morning I sat on the couch and cried and cried and cried and cried while David held me.  It felt as though everything I had worked so hard to achieve was gone and I had no dreams in front of me.  I never resented the baby inside me for the death of that dream because I knew it was not that baby; but the fact that we&#8217;d chosen to start our family.  And I still don&#8217;t resent the fact that we have a family.  I just wish there were some way to do everything.<\/p>\n<p>There are still days I miss work terribly.  As clearly as though it were yesterday I can hear the whir of a CVVHD machine or the bump and rattle of the food cart as it thumped across the doorway into the CCU.  I miss Marian&#8217;s million dollar smile and the way everyone held their breath when the overhead alarm started &#8230;. then let it out when it went on to dong four times instead two.  I miss working with other adults.  People who made me laugh, who jumped in to help when someone was swamped, who dispensed advice about work and gardening and life in general.<\/p>\n<p>Some people have insinuated that it&#8217;s a waste.  As soon as I started college people would smile and say, &#8220;Oh, and what are you going to do if you graduate and get married?&#8221; (Mennonite women don&#8217;t work, you know.) My mom was the best at combatting this.  From day one till now and probably till the end of time she will remind me, &#8220;It is never a waste to learn new things.&#8221;  I agree.  Neither is it ever a waste to fulfill a dream.<\/p>\n<p>Most of the time that&#8217;s how it feels.  A dream fulfilled.  It&#8217;s part of why I don&#8217;t go back to visit ~ partially because I&#8217;m scared the staff has changed so much I won&#8217;t know anyone and partially because I don&#8217;t want to deal with the enormous longing that wells up inside of me every time I smell the hospital.<\/p>\n<p>As time went on, I developed new dreams.  To write books.  To travel to Europe.  To learn photography.  To be a good mommy.  I love that life holds so many possibilities.<\/p>\n<p>The last while I&#8217;ve been wondering how much to pursue my dreams and how much to lay everything about me aside and just be a mommy.  I don&#8217;t think this answer is the same for all women and neither does it stay the same for one woman over time because our families and their needs change.  I could swing to one end of the pendulum and say I should pursue nothing else.  This works beautifully for some women.  It doesn&#8217;t work so well for me.  When I pursue no interests, I dry up as a person.  (Even my husband starts telling me to get out.)  It feels as though there is nothing to talk about.  Nothing to get passionate about (and even though he rolls his eyes when I get too excited to sleep, he likes that better then when I turn into my self-termed &#8220;meek and sweet&#8221; person).  Being excited about something helps me to bring passion to all the normal areas of my life.<\/p>\n<p>But when I swing to the other end of the pendulum (or my family&#8217;s needs increase and I haven&#8217;t yet caught on to that fact), I burn out and \/ or get grumpy.  I think I&#8217;m sort of there right now (or rather was the last few weeks).  So once again I am trying to evaluate what is right for me and for us and to find my way.  Sometimes I wish God would audibly speak specifics.  <\/p>\n<p>These domestic days are perfect for evaluating.  Liam is playing with a fire truck and Adam is stirring food coloring into glasses of water and getting all excited about seeing colors emerge.  It&#8217;s cold out and warm in.  The candles are burning and Christmas music is playing. It&#8217;s the perfect time to think.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Yesterday was one of those perfect, stay at home days. It was shivery cold outside and so much fun to be in a warm house. Between loads of laundry, baking&hellip; <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-694","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p39ynQ-bc","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/694","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=694"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/694\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=694"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=694"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=694"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}