All Through Life

It is Sunday + we keep reminding our boy he is one year old.  May God watch over our darling boy all through life.  And each successive birth-day find him as pure + sinless as he now is.  And may God help us to live right + train our little darling up to be a noble christian man.  - Frances, April 1891

Birthdays are a cause for celebration, but particularly so in the 1890s.  Frances had 6 children - one little girl died as a baby, and from what I can gather, she had a stillborn or miscarriage as well.  Birthdays were a celebration of life - and survival.  People didn't talk much about the losses.

Even today, miscarriages are considered a taboo topic.  I have had friends and family members go through this terrible loss, and each one of them has said how lonely it felt.  They felt they couldn't talk about their experience.  

Who do we turn to in the horrible times?  What about the joyous times?  Frances's faith in God was central to her identity.  On her son's birthday, she offered up prayers to God to help her protect, teach, and care for her young child.     

What helps us through the celebrations and and the sorrows?  How do we connect?  Or share?  Or ask for help and guidance?  Some people choose religion.  Others a network of family and friends.  Some have faith in something else altogether.  I don't believe that there is a right answer.  I do believe that sometimes the hardest thing in the world is feeling alone.  What if we all took a moment to share in someone's joy?  Share in their tears?  Share in their anger?  Share in their fear?  Share in their hope?   

He Is So Feeble

Well here again have I arrived at another birth-day.  The come around only too fast.  Why I'll soon be an old woman.  I am looking for Annie + the Dr. on the 17th - their first visit since they were married.  Pa came over when Annie was married, he is so feeble.  I fear he will not live long - but we all pray that the good Lord will spare him to us yet many years longer.  - Frances, February 1892

Frances has arrived at her 28th birthday, and already she feels like an old woman!  Twenty eight seems so young, even to me as a still-young person in my 30s!  How many times do we tell ourselves we are 'too old'?  We have so much to handle in our lives - sometimes, it does seem like the years start slipping away.  Frances is excited to see her sister, Annie, and her new brother-in-law.  Remembering their recent wedding, she thinks back to how her father looked - feeble, frail.  So often it is the burden of adult children to worry about their aging parents.  It is painful, and often overwhelming, to watch a loved one move through the last years of their lives.  It can certainly make you feel older than you are.

I Don't Want Him To Be Scared

Trying to keep my regular life going.  Worked today, went to the gym, practiced 1 hour.

But Daddy is dying.

All that work and planning for Assisted Living facilities, budget, disability, social security.  Now the cancer is back.  And here are the options:

1 - no treatment - die soon

2 - methotrexate into spine - 3-4 months

3 - port into his brain to do smaller doses of methotrexate - 3-4 months

I just want him to talk about it.  I'm scared he won't be ready for death.  But he has never dealt with the reality of his body.  I don't want him to be scared.  I don't want him to be alone.  He's in denial or maintaining hope.  I want someone to tell me how to deal with this.  I'm angry.  I get angry at people.  And I'm angry with God.  It's not fair.

Look at me, trying to tell a dying man how to feel about death.  I just don't want him to be scared.  to be afraid until the very end.  - Miranda, July 2007 

I had just turned 26.  This was my dad's third round of cancer.  Tumors on his adrenal glands were treated with chemotherapy.  The metastasized brain tumors brought rounds of radiation.  During all those treatments, I was handling his finances - making sure bills were paid, etc.  My brother, sister, and I were looking at facilities for my dad, because he could barely walk and was becoming increasingly blind.  I learned all about different chemo drugs, ports, radiation masks - information I wish I never had to learn.  I wish that no one had to learn about that.  I was trying to live my life, just like anyone else, but I was also a caretaker.  Emotions came in waves, or all at once.  Reading (and writing) this makes me cry.  I don't really remember much from that time in my life.  Grief is a funny thing.  The things I remember are the simple ones, like a stranger holding the door for me at a store.  You never really know what someone else is going through.  Patience and kindness can sometimes do more for someone than we will ever know. 

And Every Woman Should

Our dear little baby girl is three weeks old to-day and we love her just as much as if she had been here three years.  It is strange how a mother's heart will "go out" towards the dear little creatures.  We are so proud of our son and daughter.  Mrs. Cleveland is no prouder of little Ruth that we are of our little Gesna.  Our boy too is a perfect little man just learning to prattle.  I ought to feel so thankful for Gods mercies - and every woman should.  - Frances, October 1891

Strange.  Creatures.  Should.  Are these loaded words?  Or phrases common at the time?  There is love there, but also a hint of obligation.  Even in her personal writing, there is comparison to other families.  Maybe she is surprised by the motherly feelings she experiences.  Thankful to God, yes, but also wrestling with what she 'ought to feel.'  So many emotions.  How often do we compare ourselves?  How often are we conflicted by what we feel and what society expects?