SuperBowl Sande

This is the second to last post of my mother's story before we start the new installments in March. Even sitting here writing about the fact that March is next week fills me with anxiety and sadness. We are headed into the last month of her life, a life that meant so much to so many.


PS ... The One Sentence I Wish I Could Take Back ~ Chapter 11 in her life

On a lighter note, please check in tomorrow for my Oscar picks and a pic of what I have come up with to wear to the Oscar Bunco party tonight. Trust me, it is sooooooo worth seeing! HA!

It's a Tuesday with Sande....

I know, not as catchy as Sundays with Sande, but I am realizing that March is next week and I have to get you all caught up on the story. So this week there will be quite a few past posts that are all about her story, that amazing woman who raised me, supported me and was a Hero to me all my life. This was one fantastic woman who always reminded me that I was her proudest moment in life. That's funny, because no one was prouder than I to call her Mom!

PS ... Bruce Scores Brownie Points with Pretty Sande! ~ Chapter 10 in her life

Sundays With Sande

Not only is it Sunday, but it is the last day of the week that started off with Valentine's Day. Oh yes, that day made especially by Hallmark to get all of us to buy cards for our loved ones, not to mention chocolate galore. How about a nice little Valentine story before we get into this weeks re posting of the life of Sande, my mother.

I boast that my mother is still with me to anyone who will listen. I am not kidding here, she comes around from time to time to let me know that she is still watching, still proud and will always do her best to protect me and guide me when she can. Then, sometimes .... she just comes around to show me that her love for not only me, but the love that she has for my children will always be with us.

My kids had Valentine's Day off this year because of Lincoln's Birthday. While rummaging around the house, attempting to get everyone to clean up a bit I was approached by my youngest son. He had something in his hand and I could tell he was rather curious as to what it was and where it came from.

"Hey Mom? What is this from Grandma Sande?"


Intrigued I asked to see it while asking "I dunno, where did you find it?"


"Right in the middle of the floor in my room. It wasn't there this morning, I haven't seen this before."


He handed it to me and I felt warm inside.


"It is from a box that Grandma Linda sent me after my mom died. It was a white box that had three little angels inside of it. White cotton lined the inside so the angels looked like they were floating in the clouds and tucked into the lid was a saying that angels will always be with us, whether or not they left us on Earth ... that they would always be watching over us."


"Wow. So she is watching over us right now, because I found that and I think she is saying Hello. Don't you?"


"I sure do buddy, in fact I know so."


GASP "It's Valentine's Day! That is why she left this in my room, she is telling me she loves me!"


I looked into his excited little eyes like he had just witnessed magic or something.


"I think so!" I said choking back tears swelling in my heart and eyes.


He took it back from me and looked at the gold plaque.


"I just wish I could have met her. She sure was a special lady."

I watched him walked back into his room. I then sat back and glanced the ceiling. She was there. She was all around. "Happy Valentine's Day to you" I said softly. "What a perfect gift."

This is the plaque he found on the floor.

and on with the story of her life....
 
PS ... Got Any Fruit? Long, Strange Journey to Cali 

Sundays With Sande

I am taking the time on Sundays to catch readers up on the story of my mother's life. It is an important one in adoption, because she was the one who taught me that life is what you make of it. Her support was unmatched and her heart was ASTOUNDING!


Last week was the adoption, this week is the new beginning. It is rather long, so go get that cup of coffee....
PS ... Sande's Baby Loves Bruce ~ Chapter 7 in Her Life

Sundays With Sande

This is the re posting of my mother's life story and how she handled being a Birth Grandmother. Last week, we covered the divorce of my parents and the death of my Grandmother. This week, we delve a little deeper and learn about one of the most traumatic events of my life, how my mother helped me handle it, and why I know so much about secrets and lies in families. Then, the second posting is all about when I discovered I was pregnant.




PS ...The Big Secret ~ Chapter 4 in her life

PS ... Mom, I'm Pregnant ~ Chapter 5 in her life

Sundays With Sande

Sundays With Sande is the reposting of my mother's life story. I began to tell it last year, but did not complete the tale. This series is a way to catch up on who she was and why it is important to tell about this incredible woman who supported adoption with her whole heart. New posts will begin in March.

This week the story continues with two installments. The first is the love story of my mother and father, a quick account of the love that was once there. The second installment is the fall out of that love, and the ever changing aspects of Sande's life. You will beging to see PS in front of all the post titles while you are reading, that simply stands for Pretty Sande.

Pretty Sande and Phillip The Goose ~ Chapter 2 in her life

PS: Sande Leaves for St. Louis ~ Chapter 3 in her life

Sundays With Sande

I know, the title is a total rip off of Tuesdays with Morrie. But it's so catchy ... I like it, and since it is my little world here I am going with it! Who is Sande? That's my mom. Why do I call her by her name? Because everyone I know refers to her as Pretty Sande, or Sande so I have come to call her that as well.

Everyone in adoption should be so lucky to have an amazing woman like my mom. She, and she alone, is the reason I am so healthy, so content and so confident in my life. She was THE person that I loved the most, trusted the most and poured my heart out to more times than I can count. She loved me and was more than proud of me, she was me. I began to tell her story last year and it was very healing for me. I was enjoying revisiting all of those beautiful moments in my life with her, smiles abound as I recalled the giant cushion of love that woman was. Perhaps it was all too much for me and soon I found that I could not bring myself to tell about the end of her life, which is a very important part of the explanation as to why I am the way I am. Last year was the 10th anniversary of her death and the combination of writing about her and remembering that horrible time in my life proved to be too much for my little soul.

This is a new year, and with the new year I take on new challenges. This writing project, the one that once started out strong and slowly lost it's steam will be my personal project this year. I want to finish what I started, tell the story that I have been avoiding. Since it has been so long, I will begin early and post all those anecdotes so that either A) your memory will be refreshed or B) if you are new then you can catch up on the true journey of my life. I am excited to be starting this again, what a wonderful love story it is on all levels: the love of a mother to child, the love of a child to mother, and the love of a man and woman.

So if you are around on Sundays, know you can come over here and read a previous installment each week leading to March when I will begin new posts and continue her story....

March, My Least Favorite Month of the Year

Pretty Sande ~ A Born Rebel

PS ... It's too soon. I thought there would be more time. ...chapter 12 in her life

February 11th, 2000. My mother called me and she sounded funny. She mentioned that she was moving furniture and pulled a muscle in her stomach. She told me that she was finished for the day and that she would go to the doctor on Monday. She was asking all kinds of questions about how I was feeling, was I sleeping well, was I eating enough fiber, always the mother she was making sure that I was taking care of myself.

"I cannot tell you how thrilled I am about this baby. After all that you have been through, all your struggles, all your heartaches. Now you are married and welcoming your own child. A child that you will be able to raise with your husband. Your family is finally here and I want you to enjoy every single second of it. I am proud of both you and Bruce for the wonderful people you have become, and Bodde will be spoiled rotten once I get out there so you will have that to deal with." She had been working for the government for over 30 years so she was going to take early retirement once Bodde was born, pack up her things and move to California. The plan was that we were all going to buy a house then build her a cottage house in the back...her own self professed Granny House. She was getting uber excited about life with baby and left us endless messages about equal opportunity football rearing, how we had to get rid of the leopard diseased lizard we had so the baby would not contract salmonella in the bathtub, and little hints at how she would teach Bodde all the little ways to make his parents nuts. She herself had waited for so long to be the grandma that she knew she could be. Her joyous spirit was infectious and all who were around her on a daily basis were loving her bounding energy, lively smile and countdown to baby comfort food that she endlessly paraded around on cute plates. She was the kind of person you loved having at the office, always able to take the edge off while doing a fantastic job with own responsibilities. But the closer it came, the more she relished in what the months and years ahead held for her.

She saw the doctor and told me that she was going to get a second opinion. She expressed concern that her doctor was not taking her pain serious enough and she wanted to see someone else to ease her mind. I called her on a daily basis for three days, several times a day, to see how she was feeling. She had also been battling a congestion since January and she once referenced how it surprised her that she could not kick the cough that she had. Thought nothing of it. She told me that she was planning a baby shower for me in St. Louis for my family and friends, and she would take pictures and call so that everyone could wish me well. She had planned it for the last weekend of the month and sounded optimistic regardless of her irritation with the pulled muscle that she had.

Feb 15, 2000. I woke up at 5:00 and my back was aching. I had to go to the bathroom, so I rolled out of bed...belly and all...and shuffled off. Finishing, the toilet paper had just a hint of pink. Maybe labor? I went back to bed and laid there. I had just had a doctor's appointment and he told me that we could go any day even thought the due date was March 16th. He believed that we were off on our original estimation but everything showed a fully developed baby, so the reason I was thinking it possible. I felt a dull ache in my back that seemed to get stronger so I looked at the clock. 5:20 am. My first thought was I am in labor. My second thought was how hungry I was. I got up and took a shower. I did not want to wake Bruce up because I knew that there was nothing open yet, food wise, so I wanted to bide time to get me some sausage egg mcmuffins. No kidding. If there is anything that I learned with the first two births is that you need to go in on a FULL stomach because you will burn an unbelievable amount of energy pushing life from your body. The shower was great, and I continued back to bed to lie down. I was facing away from the clock and when the aching in my back started again, I woke Bruce and asked him what time it was.

He said "Why?" I told him I just wanted to know the time.

"5:45. Why?" I told him that I was in labor, not to panic, we had time to get ready. He flipped over in bed wide awake.
"Your in labor? Are you sure? Do we need to leave right now? Are you okay?" he was starting to freak out. I convinced him that I was fine, he had time to take a shower, the contractions were only 15-20 minutes apart so we would be fine. He leaped out of bed and into the shower. I lay there for a few more minutes.I picked up the phone and dialed my mother.

"Hello?"

"Hey, do you think today would be a good day to become a grandmother?" I asked with a huge smile on my face.

"What? Kelsey are you serious?" She was half excited and half worried.

"I am pretty sure that Bodde is coming today. The contractions are 15-20 minutes apart and they are too strong to be a false alarm."

"Did you see bloody show?" she asked.

"Yes. Just a little..."

"That's all you need. But it is almost a month away from your due date. You're not due until March 16th, do you think something is wrong?" She was sounding less excited and more worried now, I could tell that she was thinking of something else.

"I saw the doctor last Thursday and he said that from all accounts the baby was fully developed, it could be any day now and he would not be worried. I am sure this is it. Bruce is in the shower and once he is done we will load the car and head to the hospital. Everything is good, mom. I just wanted to call you."

"It's too soon. I thought there would be more time." She was very somber in her tone.

"Mom, don't worry about the shower or coming out here. Whenever you can make it will be fine. Hey, you can still have the shower in a couple of weeks then come out to see us after that. Let's just get this baby here, healthy and happy, then we can talk specifics. I am going to get dressed, I will call you from the hospital to let you know the phone number and room number. I love you!"


" I love you too. Ready?"

"Yep"

In unison..."1....2....3....I love you. I miss you. Goodbye!"

What is up with that, Kelsey???? Well, when I moved to Cali my mother and I could never get off the phone because neither of us could hang up on the other. One day we came up with that little chant and we were able to get off the phone after that. It just stuck. So Bruce is now running around collecting things for the hospital. We have a boom box for relaxing music during labor, a bag with clothes, a bag with bathroom things, a blanket, a pillow and a small bear that his grandmother bought for the baby. Oh yeah, I think we had enough but I was not going to say anything to detour him from enjoying this nesting moment. It was adorable to watch my husband do this, his attention to detail, his making last minute adjustments such as magazines and after delivery snacks. Oh, to think of it now just makes me love him more. He was so ready to be a daddy, ready to see his son be born. The truck packed, cat fed, light left on...we left for the hospital around 6:15 am. I told him he needed to stop by McDonald's so I could get something to eat. He said no. I said in my most polite Exorcist voice to "Go to McDonald's now...I'm starving!" He had never heard me talk like that so he did as he was told, mostly out of confusion and a hint of fear. Drive thru order of a sausage egg mcmuffin, cup of coffee and a coke. I had everything but the coffee. That was for Bruce, and it helped his demeanor and choice of words for his in labor wife. I think he was a little grossed out at how I wolfed down that sausage patty.

Bodde was stubborn. We were waiting for a while. Contractions, but no movement. Nothing past 3 cm. I said that I did not want an epidural, but would gladly accept some Staydol to take the edge off the sharp contractions. They agreed and once that sweet nectar was released in my veins I was a much more pleasant person, down right happy and carefree. Bruce and I chatted, my mother called 6 times...literally. And soon it began to rain harder than we had seen it rain in over a year. The nurse told us that it was good luck to have a baby in the rain, it was supposed to bring compassion in a child. (BTW, I am a believer because my Bodde is the most compassionate kid you have ever met!) The time was getting closer and I was starting to drift off, an effect of the drug, so Bruce told me he was going to get a cup of coffee. Actually he asked if it was alright, if I was alright alone. Yeah, yeah, yeah I said off to la-la-land. I woke from that nap to the smell of three things mixed together. I rolled over to see his face right next to mine. He was smiling and relaxed. I looked into his eyes and said...

"You had a cup of coffee, a tuna sandwich and a cigarette, didn't you?" His cute little puppy dog eyes turned into frightened little boy caught in the cookie jar eyes.

"Uhhhhh..." as he said that, his breath proved all those things to be true.

"Dammit Jim!" I was referencing Star Trek when Doc would get all mad at Captain Kirk . He apologized and reminded me that he did not inhale a mcmuffin that morning. We both laughed.

Time finally comes for him to be born. Things were going well, except I changed my mind about the epidural but was too late catching the anesthesiologist so it was all natural for me. My mother kept calling, so Bruce just picked up the phone, hung it back on the receiver, then laid it off the hook on the table. "I am having no part of that! You can explain to her why she could not call." Bruce laughed and said he would take responsibility, he had witnesses to prove it. I will spare you the details, and tell you that Bodde was born at 1:43 pm on February 15th and was a healthy 6lbs 15 oz at a length of 19 inches. It was a good delivery and I told Bruce he had to put the phone back in the cradle so we could call her and let her know. The phone did not even ring after I dialed and I heard...

"Well you better have a weight and length for me if you are going to torture me like that!" I gave her the information and she balled like a baby. We both cried. She asked what he looked like (a baby boy), who he looked like(Good mix of both of us, but heavy on the Kelsey genes) , how was Bruce (Great! Off with the baby to clean and clothe), how was I (sore, exhausted and never happier in my life), when would they be able to get me something to eat (good question!) and the last thing she said was ... "My baby finally has a baby of her own to love. Oh Kelsey, I am so happy for you."

After I came home from the hospital she would call and tell me in a whisper..."I know you are resting, just lay the phone next to him and let me hear him breath." I would, and had no idea how long she listened because I fell asleep myself. She would call and leave messages for Bodde telling him that she was going to be there soon to love on him and spoil him. She even told him that she was going to bring along NFL films to show him how real football teams win Super Bowl's. She called all the time for the next week and a half. Then the calls slowed. On Sunday the shower, she called.

"Hello sweetheart. I am cancelling the shower because I really don't feel very good at all."

"Mom, are you okay? What is it? What hurts?" I could hear people in the background, I knew that my cousins were there helping her.

"I just cannot shake this cold and my left side is really bothering me."

"Still? Is that from the pulled muscle that you had?"

"Yeah, I think so, I'm not sure but I know that I just cannot have this shower and I won't be coming out next week, either." She had planned to fly out for a few weeks to help me and of course, spoil Bodde rotten. Bruce and I were so looking forward to her coming out. We kept talking about how we would probably never get to hold him once she was there.

"Mom, what is going on? Have you been to your doctor? What about the other doctor?" She had been referred to another doctor who she said she saw at the end of the week, but she was not feeling as bad then. I could tell that she was having trouble breathing. She told me that indeed my cousins were there helping her put things away.I was in a daze because all of this was news that I was not prepared for. She had been waiting a lifetime to have a shower for her grandchild. She had been waiting a lifetime to see her daughter as a mom taking care of, feeding, comforting and soothing her child. She had been waiting to retire and live life in California with us, and with her brother's children. Everyone was so thrilled for her, she was finally going to be living out her life the way she wanted to. Her daughter was married, her grandchild was here, her retirement was in the approval process, she was on her way to just living life as a grandmother. Wait, reliving her life vicariously through her grandchild, that would be a better description to what I think she was looking forward to.

"I will go see him tomorrow. I am so sorry honey..." she was crying. "... I wanted so badly to be there and to have this shower. I am sorry that I couldn't do that for you. I have to go, I need to rest, okay?" her voice was soft, her voice was venerable. There was something she was not telling me, and I knew it.

"Mom, I just want you to feel better. Do not apologize. Bodde came a whole month before his due date, this took us all by surprise. I just want you to take care of yourself. I will call you tonight but in the mean time you go rest. I love you."


"I love you too." she hung up. No chant. Just a click. That hadn't happened in about three years. Remember that feeling I had that I could not shake? That bad feeling that was rearing it's nasty head, bugging me, filling my heart with some kind of darkness during the pregnancy. I thought I was free and clear of it once Bodde was born. I was afraid that spooky feeling was related to my fears that he would not be a healthy child.

I now knew that it was my beloved Pretty Momma that was in trouble. She was very close to the end of her life and the following week would prove just that. This is where my heart began to ache amiss the joy of my new family.

PS ... The One Sentence I Wish I Could Take Back ...chapter 11 in her life

"I got a bad feeling about this." ~ Han Solo, all three original Star Wars movies.

Ever get that weird feeling that something just isn't right? You don't know what it is, you can't pinpoint it, but you know that there is something that is off in some way.

Bruce and I getting married was such a wonderful time, being home with family for a few days after the big weekend was a great unwind to months of stress and planning. Now we were finally husband and wife, with baby on the way, and we felt elated, refreshed and relieved. When it came time to go back to California, my mother was the one who wanted to drive us back to the airport. We had been spending most of our free time with our mothers those last couple of days and she was all smiles telling us her favorite parts of the big day. She looked truly happy to me, very at peace with where she was in life. She parked right in front of the airport, as you can at Lambert International, and Bruce insisted on getting all of the luggage out of the car. She and I were starting to say our goodbyes, thanking each other for such a meaningful time. Bruce paid the curb check and came back to say his goodbyes to my mother. He gave her a big squeeze, kissed her and told her that he was going to take care of me the best he could. She told him she knew he would and turned to me. I hugged her tight, I did not want to let go. She was whispering in my ear how proud she was, how much she admired my heart and how much she loved me. She said that she knew that my marriage would work because Bruce and I truly loved each other. She said that this gave her great joy, knowing that I was honestly loved by the one I admired most. She told me all kinds of things. She put me on top of the world and then gave me one last giant squeeze and let me go. She was crying a little, but had a huge smile on her face. I told her I would call her when we got home safe, but to go and get some sleep in the mean time, she looked exhausted.

I turned and walked to the terminal with Bruce. I stopped and looked back to see if she had gone, and she was still there. She was crying so hard that her body was shaking and she was just standing by the car. I had never seen her like that, I started to go back but Bruce said we had to catch the plane. I thought about her the entire flight, she looked so upset. When we got home I called right away. I mentioned that I saw her crying and asked if everything was alright. She told me that for some reason ... "it felt like that was the last time that I was going to see you." I told her she was talking crazy and all I did was get married, not leaving the continent. We laughed. I did think it was an odd statement for her to utter.

The months we spent pregnant were wonderful. Bruce was not with me for the previous births and he was enjoying the growing belly as much as I was. He got into it just like a new father should have. He catered to me, bought little things for his son and glowed at times, just like a maternity glow for a mother. He was very excited about the life we were starting together, telling me often how much he looked forward to being a father. It made me feel so good to have him, maybe too good. I began to get the feeling that things were going just TOO good for me. I could not have all of this without something happening to pop the balloon that I was in. I started to worry that because Bruce was so lighthearted and hopeful that perhaps there was something that was going to happen to him. Then when I really started to think about it I would worry that there was something that was going to happen to the baby. Maybe I had pushed my luck with the first two pregnancies and this one was not going to end well. I know that sounds so pessimistic of me to say, but I really thought that things were just coming together so well that it was bound to all come to a crashing halt.

I talked to my mother probably two times a day when I was pregnant with Bodde. I told her all the time that I thought something was a mist, something was just not sitting well with me. She asked all kinds of questions: Are you feeling okay? Are you getting enough sleep? Do you think Bruce is doing something he shouldn't be? She meant well, but I told her it was beyond any of that, especially the Bruce one. I told her that he was so happy and carefree that he was the only reason I wasn't a crying mess. She told me that I was a 'nervous Nelly' and that it was just hormones that were kicking in the closer I got to the third trimester. It was around Christmas, so she was sure that had something to do with it also. Just emotional from the pregnancy, getting bigger, getting more difficult to get comfortable, she told me that I needed to get a massage and relax, things were going to be fine. She told me to keep in mind that God loved me and was not going to let anything happen to this baby. She had been praying for a healthy baby and that was what He was going to give me.


We moved closer to the due date and I got much larger. Bruce thought it was cute, I thought it was getting a little over done, and my mother was enlisting my boss to take pictures of me at work and email them to her so she could see her grandson grow. It was hilarious, she was so excited about that baby that she was leaving all kinds of messages for him, telling him that he had the coolest Grandma ever and she would soon be there to spoil him to pieces. She left messages for Bruce with my favorite recipes and movies to rent, even if it was a chick flick he would have to watch them because I was the Queen with the baby in my belly so he had to do what she told him. It actually worked because he did end up watching some of my favorite movies, and yes, he did like a couple of them! ( By the way, I never spoke of this...) She was sending me chicken n dumplings in the mail because I could not find Sweet Sue in the stores, and had not nearly enough patience to cook them all day long. She was planning to take early retirement from the VA a couple of months after Bodde was born so she could come to California and live with us. She was going to help us buy a house with her pension and retirement, as long as Bruce would build her an Grandma Bungalow in the back of the property. That is what she called it, her GB back in the yard. She said that she wanted a place to get away, but wake up to the laughter of her grandchildren in the morning. She was getting more and more California crazy with each passing day. And I, of course was thrilled that we would be together with this baby, after so many years of watching from afar we were finally going to be able to see my children grow. I was going to be a mommy, and she was going to be a Grammy. We were busy planning life, but I still had a sense that there was something there, something just waiting to come along. The closer we got to delivery day, the more it festered in my head.


The end of January was my mother's favorite time of the year. Know why? Super Bowl Sunday! If there was ever a woman who loved football, it was my mother. She knew every rule, every player, every play...she just loved her football. She was a lover of Terry Bradshaw and the Pittsburgh Steelers. I was a Dallas Cowboys freak. To say that Super Bowl Sunday in our house was quiet and lovely would be like say that Jerry Springer and Barbara Walters have a lot in common. Oil and water, baby, oil and water. So later in life, when I fell in love with another Dallas Fan my mother took no mercy on us when the Boys were doing bad. She would call during a game when they had just messed up in some way and taunt us on the phone, or in most cases...a message on the answering machine. "Hey! Why aren't you answering the phone? Are you crying? Are you wishing that Troy Aikman wasn't so old and he could magically reappear and save this sorry team?' or "So, do you think it says in the playbook to blow the game in the last 30 seconds, keeping them out of the playoffs again yet again?..." (hysterical laughter following) or "When you think Jerry Jones will buy a whole new team? He sure needs one!" She was relentless. She was hysterical. She made Bruce laugh really hard, and he loved to laugh. She called at least three times on Sundays, just to discuss games and certain plays. Football Freak!

So in 2000 when the St. Louis Rams went to the Super Bowl, I was sure that she would be calling all throughout our Super Bowl party. The Rams scored. No call. The Rams score again. No call. We were hosing a lot of people in our tiny apartment that year so I really kinda didn't pay attention. I did think it strange, but maybe she was watching it somewhere else. All I knew was I had chicken wings to sauce and potato skins to dress. Being pregnant during the holidays and Super Bowl Sunday was the best! Finally, the Rams win the Super Bowl and I thought for sure she would be calling. We watched the ceremonies, saw Kurt Warner, got a phone call from friends at a party in St. Louis, but no call from my football loving mother.


I finally picked up the phone and dialed her number, feeling full of pride for my hometown and ready to give her some trouble for not calling me on this of all days. It rang. It rang again. Several more times it rang until finally she picked up.


"Hello?"


"Well, I guess you can die a happy woman now, huh?"


There was silence.


"What?" she asked in voice of disbelief. Almost as if she were shocked. "Why would you say that?"


"MOM! Your Rams won the Super Bowl! Why didn't you call? I thought for sure you would have called during that amazing game...what's going on?!" I was still carefree in my tone. I was sure that she would be happy that they won, that she finally was in a town with a Super Bowl WIN! She, however, was not.


"I'm not feeling too good. I don't want to talk right now. I will call you later. Love you." She hung up. I stood there motionless. It was the shortest conversation I ever had with my mother. I had a bad feeling, a real bad feeling after that phone call. Bruce told me to say something to her, but the look on my face told him that something was wrong. I told him about the exchange of words that I had with her and he assured me that she was just not feeling well. He said that I should have a good time, stop worrying, eat some food and relax. I was able to do that, and soon I was lost in conversation with good friends. I called much later in the evening, but she did not answer. I figured she was just tired and sleeping. I told myself that I was just being paranoid and I should just go to bed myself, it had been a very long day.


I know now the repercussions of that sentence. What I said to her was nothing short of a kick in the gut to her. You see, what I did not know, what no one knew, was that the cancer was spreading throughout her body at that point. It had been growing tentacles and worming itself through organs like they were fertilized pockets of health that needed to be destroyed. It was taking over her body and she knew it. She was not telling me, but she was telling a few of the people around her that she just did not feel right after her gallbladder surgery 5 months earlier. She was complaining to her doctor back in the summer that she was having pains in her side. He chalked it up to gallbladder because first, there was family medical history of gallbladder problems, and second was the fact that my mother was overweight. I remember the day of her surgery. I was working and I specifically asked my boss to use his phone at his desk to call and check on her. Her surgery was delayed for some reason, but she eventually had it and recovered from it just fine. Two months later she was at my wedding, and I could not see anything that was different. She didn't look sick to me. She was hiding it all from me because she did not want to worry me. She probably was also not wanting to admit it to herself. She hated cancer. She lost her brother to it and also had had to watch the slow, horrible demise of her sister who battle with the beast. It was a huge fear of my mother's. She was always sending me information about Ovarian Cancer because my paternal grandmother died from it way back when. She was always telling me to keep up with my OBGYN and get my tests done, you can never be too careful. Well, somehow in all her literature and all the signs that she had, she missed the warnings. Or perhaps she expressed those fears and her doctor did not listen because of her obesity. We will never know. What I do know is that this is now the beginning of the end. This was where I started to see real signs that my gut feeling was not such a fantasy fear of mine. It was very real, very intense, and it was happening at a time in her life that should have been so happy and hopeful. Her life was rapidly coming to a pain filled end in a shocking sequence of events that left me, and everyone who knew her, with a tidal wave of pain, disbelief, anger, and catastrophic sadness that still washes over me from time to time. I had no idea this was coming. No warning at all. And to think, I spoke those words to her. "I guess you can die a happy woman, huh?" I don't think I will ever be able to get past that.




Next part of the story gets harder. I find wonderful joy and immense grief are two hard pills to swallow simultaneously. Bodde is born and one month later, she's gone.

PS ... The Big Secret ~ chapter 4 in her life

Years passed and my mother and I grew closer. She was focused on raising me as best she could despite the fact that my father was absent from the home. My father was coming to see us less often and often those visits would produce long periods of time that I would question what my father's role was in my life and why, if he loved me so much, was he gone. My mother always told me that they grew apart, that there were circumstances that happened and they could no longer live together. She told me that she still loved him and always would because he was my father and without him she would not have me. I knew that I was important to my mother. There was no denying that, it was evident in everything she was. But as I was heading into the meat of the teenage years, my 15 year old mind could not understand what was so bad, what was so difficult about working out your differences to raise a child with both parents. I was beginning to feel anger towards my father, not because of anything my mother said or did, but because I could not get a straight answer out of him as to why he was not in our home. He was vague when I talked to him, he never really had all that much to say. So I spent many hours with my mom asking questions, telling her how I felt about it all and often crying out of frustration that my heart was so confused and hurt. Chalk it up to hormones and the teen angst syndrome, but for whatever reason I began to take things out on the one that I loved the most, Pretty Sande. I began to rebel, I began to disrespect her, I was heading for trouble and I did not care. I wasn't a horrible teenager, but I was sneaky and dishonest about where I was, who I was with and what I was doing. I began on a little downward hill that would become a giant slalom with so many gates to maneuver through it is a wonder that I ever made it down in one piece.


I never really hung out with the wrong crowd. As a matter of fact I was the kind of person who could hang with any crowd be it jocks, geeks, beauties or stoners, I was able to associate with any and all people. I was overweight, not by a lot but I was not the girl that everyone wanted to date, so my humor went a long way when it came to socializing. I was always looking for acceptance among my peers because in high school a lot of who you are is based on looks and body image. I was cute by most standards, but having extra weight meant that I was a better friend than girlfriend. I was at the popular parties, at the football games, at the social dances and quite involved with drama. I kept active in sports playing both racquetball and softball for my school and I was a high B average in my studies. I give all the credit to my mother for those accomplishments because she was the one who was always there cheering me on no matter the event. Softball was as much a passion for her as it was for me, she could never understand how I moved so fast and accurately in racquetball, she told me that I was smarter than she ever was when it came to school and what joy she got from seeing me on a stage. She again, was always my champion and told me often that I could do anything that I put my mind to, that I could accomplish anything. I was so fortunate to have that, but like most teenagers I took it for granted and began to take out my anger, disappointment, and sadness on my mother.


As I said, I saw less and less of my father through these years, but my mom was fantastic about keeping in touch with family. At least every other month we would take about a two hour drive into Illinois to visit my paternal grandfather and various aunts, uncles and cousins. I liked my father's side of the family. There were great stories, great food and always lots of laughter. My favorite times were when my aunts would begin to tell about the wild side that my mother had, something I did not ever see. My mom was funny, outgoing, personable and well liked, but she was a homebody. In all my formative years I never saw my mother go on a date, have any parties at our house except the family during holidays, or go out with the girls (well maybe when I was really little and did not know it) because she was always with me. So to hear the tales of when she was dancing on a table, sneaking out at night to cruise the strip or drinking shots with the boys well past the the point of tipsy was always a treat for me, if for nothing else to see her squirm and try to silence her fans to evade questions from me on the long drive home. I enjoyed visiting with my extended family and I got along great with my long distance cousins. But it was at that familiar table in my aunt's kitchen that our world, meaning my mother and I, changed in one sentence.


I was 16 and on that particular day I was getting along with my mom very well. We were talking and enjoying the cold cut spread that was familiar and always welcomed. The talk was about family and all the funny and crazy people in it. Someone started talking about my father and there was some banter about how he was not keeping in touch with my mother and I as often as he used to. Then, out of one of their mouths came this sentence:
"Well, he has his hands full with A and T." Now, I had always heard names in conversations that I did not recognize because, like in any family, there were so many cousins, second cousins and so on that sometimes it is just hard to keep track of who everyone is. I did not notice the silence that fell on my other aunts and my mother, I was just curious as to whom they were talking about. My grandfather was there, sitting behind me and he was also very quiet. I looked at one of them and I asked, "Who is A and T? Some long lost cousins that I have never met?" At that moment I knew that I had asked a loaded question because now everyone in the room was silent, most were looking down at the table and only a couple were looking at me...and their mouths were dropped open. No one said anything. "What's going on? Why is everyone so quiet?" Still no answer. "Wow! A and T mush be some really crazy relatives if you all do not want to talk about them..." Still nothing. I looked at my mother and she was in a state of shock. Now I was worried. I had never seen such a look of desperation on her face, she looked like she wanted to talk but if she did she may just throw up if she opened her mouth. I glanced at my grandfather and he could not even look at me. Everyone else was just frozen, it was a stark change from the minutes before when everyone was laughing and reminiscing.


"What is going on?" I asked again, almost panicking at the thought of what was so horrible.
"A and T are your brother and sister from your dad's marriage to Judy."
"Judy who?" Some one told me that was my dad's wife. "He has other kids?" I asked to myself but it must have been loud enough for everyone to hear because my aunt replied, "Yes he does." "What?! My dad has another family?" No one wanted to answer that one. The mood had shifted from lighthearted to brokenhearted. I could feel all those eyes on me at that moment. Even my cousin, who's parents had been trough a bitter divorce battle that very year, was looking at me with that 'Oh, I am so sorry look'.

"How long has he been married?" I asked with no emotion in my voice. No one could look at me, they all realized that I had no idea that he was living with his new family, his new wife, in his new life . "How long mom?" I asked her point blank. I felt sick, I almost did not want to know the answer. I could not believe my ears and my head was starting to hurt because I was screaming internally. "Mom, how long has dad been married?" She was strong and looked me in the eyes.
"He married Judy right after our divorce." I could not breath, my heart started to pound, I am sure I was looking shell shocked and I felt like someone had just hit me in the gut with a baseball bat.
"So, he's been married all this time? My whole life he has been married?" Those questions came out of my mouth like screeches from an owl. " How old are his kids?" Oh, the tension in that room was thick. No one moved. No one spoke. No one looked at me. Everyone was feeling like an ass and did not know what in the hell to say. My mother again was to only one to speak up.
"His son is 4 and his daughter is a year old."
'Oh really, he has a daughter? Another daughter?' is what I was thinking to myself. I sat there among his family, his kin and they were all realizing that he had never given me the respect that I deserved by telling me that he was married for 13 years!!!! 'What a Lie, what a coward, what a dick!' I was thinking to myself. So many thoughts ran through my head that I could not keep track of them all. Everything changed that day, all that I knew and thought was a big lie. And it was apparent that everyone in that room knew except me.
"When were you going to tell me? I am pretty sure I asked before if you and he would get married again. I know I have asked that before." She took a deep breath, looked around the room almost mentally wishing them all to leave so she could have this conversation in private.
"I told him a million times to tell you. I wanted him to tell you when you were little, but he thought it would be best to tell you later..." I did not let her finish.
"Later? Like now? Here? In front of a room of people who already knew and have been keeping quiet all this time? When do you think he would have told me if I did not hear it here?"
This was obviously a question that she would like to know the answer to as well as me, and she did not try to answer it for him.
" I don't know sweetheart." Her eyes were welling up with tears. "Have all of you known this?" The silence answered my question. "Well, I guess there are things that I do not know about my own life. I can't believe no one said anything to me", I said looking around the room. My grandfather was motionless. I could tell that he was hurt, that he was at that moment so disappointed in his son, so disappointed in himself.


We did not stay long after that. Usually our visits there would extend into the early evenings before we would say farewell. That day I think we were gone within an hour of the secret being released. It was a long drive home, filled with tears, yelling, disgust, confusion and most of all, disappointment. I was pissed that I had been lied to for so long. That my father came to visit us, slept in my mother's bed, told me he missed me and all the while knew that he had a wife to go home to. I was pissed that my mom didn't tell me, but I totally understood why she was wanting my father to tell me. He was the one who left, he was the one who got remarried, he was the one responsible for his actions so he should have the balls to tell me what his life was like. I remember when she would answer the phone at his house and when I asked who that was, he would tell me a friend. I felt like my whole identity had been ripped from me and everything that I knew about my parents and their life together had been a lie. And all those people in that room that knew, who understood the consequences of that moment when that sentence was uttered, they all knew that the afternoon was taking turn for the worse. I was so embarrassed, I was so shocked and I was so hurt by it all. By everyone that was there. I knew that they were trying to protect me from pain, but hiding it from me was worse than just telling me the truth. I was ashamed for being so naive, so stupid! The signs were there and I never saw them. I was gullible in my thoughts, gullible in what I saw in my father up to that point, I was gullible to never have asked the right questions that would lead to the truth. I was so livid that I really cannot remember what the conversation was driving back to St. Louis, it is all a blur.


What wasn't a blur was the next day when I sat down with my mother and started asking some questions. She held nothing back because these were the questions that she WANTED to answer about my father. In our discussion, it was revealed that he was having an affair with a gal from work. Oh, it gets better. My mother found out about the two of them from me! I was three and one day driving around I said very happily ... "There's Honey's house!" My mother said she thought I was talking something crazy about Whinny the Pooh and did not think anything of it, until she asked, "Who is Honey?" To which I replied, "You know, dad calls her Honey." And that was the moment that my mother found out that Phil had been unfaithful. Nice way to hear about it, from your three year old daughter. See, she realized that he had taken me to her house to spend time with her when she was sure he was supposed to be somewhere else. Then she realized that I was with her, in her house. My mother was a woman scorned in every sense of the word, I mean, her own child just told her that daddy was with another woman! But she handled it with grace and her head held high. She let him go so that she could keep life somewhat normal for me. She took her responsibility as a single mother in the world and she was doing a great job, just a wonderful mother.


But, even though she was remarkable and strong, she would have to see her daughter through a deep depression that lasted for years. It took me a long, long time to come to grips with my father and his behavior. I took it very personally and internalized so much of my anger, guilt and self loathing. Yes, I took the blame for it all because I did not know any better. IN my head I was thinking that I was not good enough for him to stay, not good enough for my own father to be honest with me, not good enough to want to know. I went into treatment for depression and this was when my mother got really scared that she was going to loose me. She was devastated that this had all come to the ugly head that it was and she too was feeling guilty for standing by her convictions that it was my father's responsibility to tell me of his other life, his other family. I was not mad at her, I was clearly f-ed up because of his lies and deceit. But she took it just as hard as I did in guilt. She felt so guilty that it happened the way it did, that I was embarrassed the way I was and that she could not find a way to tell me before that fateful day. She also could not find a way to help me deal with it all, and that was a first. She was always able to help me with anything, but this was beyond her. It was well beyond what she was ready for and beyond what she could have imagined. She watched as I self destructed into a very lonely, sad, depressed girl who was heartbroken by the only man she had ever loved in her life. Sande felt awful, and she had to send me to treatment to get the help that I needed.


Next time, the renewal of my soul, and the comfort of our relationship returns even better than it was before. Followed by the biggest challenge in either of our lives so far...adoption.