Thursday, November 12, 2009


Whenever I'm quiet here it almost always means I'm overwhelmed. I'm lacking time for reflection and writing and instead I'm speeding through the days in a fog.  Last night, after I'd given Oscar his growth hormone injection and brushed my teeth, I started to put my contact lenses back in.  This morning, when I dashed home between appointments to drop off a half-baked pizza for dinner I took it straight to the bathroom utterly convinced it belonged atop the white wicker hamper.  With the pizza finally stored in the fridge I hopped back in the car and drove across town, right past my destination.  That was the third time this week I'd lost track of where I was going and had to do a u-turn.

Overwhelm is:
  • A husband in Brazil and three kids in Berkeley
  • Posting an ad for a new aide and receiving 80 responses, conducting phone screenings from the car, and squeezing interviews in around 19 other commitments.
  • Watching my nearly 9 year old stutter so badly his whole face contorts as he wrestles with each word
  • Not having a plan for the 9 year old's birthday in 4 days.
  • Reading about PWS deaths and H1N1 and deciding, still begrudgingly, to get the vaccine
  • Scheduling that vaccine and three other MD appointments in one week.
  • Wondering why the 11 year old has been so quiet and lethargic for three days.
  • Writing a two page letter to my 5 year old's pediatrician about her obsession with food because I can't possibly explain all of the nuances of the situation with her present at tomorrow's checkup.
  • Wanting to edit my workshop piece for the class anthology but knowing I'm not going to have time.
  • Wondering why my hair is falling out, I've gained 10 pounds, and I'm dizzy again.
  • Other things I can't write in a blog for fear of upsetting certain individuals.
  • Wanting to just forget it all and crawl into bed with a good book.

Heck. I think I will do that. 

Check back tomorrow for an update.  Will I use sunscreen to brush my teeth? Put the milk in the cupboard? Confuse the school start time and deliver the kid 15 minutes late?  Or will I add a new blooper to the list?  I bet you can't wait to find out!


  1. Hang in there. Lean on us in spirit, at least. It's just way, way too much. And it will pass -- you know it does, deep down. I'm thinking of you, wishing I could somehow offer more than just solidarity...

  2. I feel your exhaustion through reading this post!

  3. Hi Mary. I have just joined this site today after just hearing about it. I also have a son with PWS who is 2 and a half. I too have been overhwelmed since he was born (he is a twin so I have been even movre overhwelmed!). I read your first blog posting with interest remembering how hopeful I was while pregnant and wondering what happened when we heard the diagnosis. The grief and loss has been acute and chronic!
    I look forward to corresponding with you and others who are surviving this major life change.
    Thank you for sharing.
    Genevieve in Canada

  4. Genevieve, welcome! Somehow I just saw your comment here (from December) while I was printing old posts. I don't know how I missed it before. Thanks for getting in touch. You sum up the grief well -- acute and chronic! I look forward to connecting and hearing more about you and your family.