There is a resident at work that I call "sister" sometimes. "N" is almost exactly 10 years older than me. We're about the same body style/shape and now that I've gotten my hair cut, we look the same there too (except my hair is naturally curly and hers is not). She is non-verbal, but I've learned over the course of the past year that she sings monosyllabic (duh-duh-duh) versions of "Jesus Loves Me" and "Happy Birthday"!
I get frustrated sometimes because she can't tell me when or where she hurts. But it is easy to tell when that is the case, because she becomes very obstinate (almost combative at times) ... gee, that sounds familiar too! *lol* My husband will probably tell you that I get really, REALLY quiet when I'm upset or in pain and can be quite the biotch.
"N"'s birthday is 5 days before mine.
She has myriad physical and medical issues as well. She can walk, but requires two helpers and a gait belt and is still extremely unsteady. Most of the time she is in a wheelchair, a recliner or her bed. But she tries to assist in her care anyway. Some of the other residents cannot or will not help, the former being one of those things that is what it is and you just have to deal with it, because if it was you ... or a relative of yours, you would want them to have the very best care possible. Some residents go out of their way to make things more difficult and that can be downright aggravating sometimes, but we walk a delicate line between assisting them in becoming more independent and allowing them to exercise that independence. (I'll get back on topic now.)
"N" is also prone to seizures. I've had to help hold her at times when the nurse has given her a shot of anti-seizure med and it has not been easy.
"N" is a good hugger and her smile can light up my day.
*****
Now, for my daughter.
This is my little angel at a couple of months old. I was beginning to think that I would never have the chance to have a little girl of my own. I was getting towards the end of "traditional" child-bearing years (whatever that means) and it had been four years since I had been preggers. I began to suspect that I was pregnant, but didn't even want to tell my husband until I was sure.
So I got a home test and took it to work with me one evening. (I was working nights transcribing reports at a police department in Texas at the time.) I took the test and tried not to tap my feet too loudly in the bathroom stall, not wanting to leave until I knew - because I didn't want anyone to walk in on me with my stick out (ooooh, that sounds bad, doesn't it? *LOL*) at the sink. THEN I had to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the shift; well "had to" is relative, but I thought DH should probably hear it first. When I walked in the door the next morning, he was sitting at the computer (I know, big surprise) and I said, "Oh, good! You're sitting down."
We decided NOT to tell his mom right off that time around, halfway because of comments she had made relative to our being able to afford any more children, and partially because of my health concerns and would the pregnancy go to term.
When we got the news from the amnio that she was ok genetically (and that she was a girl), I went straight to Wally World and got a little pink and white striped sleeper for $3.48 off the sale rack. A couple months down the road, when she came to town to visit her sisters and grandchildren, we went to her sister's house where she was staying to visit her. The sleeper was in a WalMart bag and we handed it to Brian and told him to give it to Grammy.
She opened it and saw the outfit, pulled it out of the bag and held it up. "What is this," she asked. "IT'S FOR MY BABY SISTER," Brian replied.
Then the water works came.
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