The Sins of the Fathers..

I don't know what I did right when I was about 12 years old, but the decision not to have children may have been the smartest decision of my life.  Most 12 year old girls would be dreaming about boys and high school and love and marriage and having babies.  I went the boys route, didn't think much about high school, but was thinking of a career.  I certainly did not end up doing what I thought I'd be doing back then, but I knew a career was a must.  Love and marriage, too, was a dream, but the idea of kids was not.  Was it because, at age 12, my eldest nephew was born, and I was faced with what it was like to have an infant around?  Don't get me wrong, I love my nephews and their families! But tending babies?!  And then dealing with toddlers and all?  No, that wasn't for me!  Was it the fact that I nearly died from my first asthma attack that year and knew that the allergies I'd inherited would be passed on, and would be worse?  (Mine are far worse than what my dad and granddad ever had.)  Struggling for each and every breath is a horrid way to live, and I'd not wish it on anyone.  Was it a revelation from my Heavenly Father that it would be best if I didn't go out and multiply?  I always knew that I'd not make a good mother.   Could it have been a combination of these things?  Likely, it is a combination.

Whatever the source or sources, I am so very thankful that I never gave birth to a child.  While my brother's sons were healthy, there have been health problems from there on.  My eldest nephew, has 3 children, the youngest 2 with the amino acid deficiency that forbade them meat proteins and dairy products while they were growing up.  Not surprisingly, both of those kids both have some maturity issues, but one is dealing with it far better than the other.  The eldest of the 3 may have already made the decision not to have children of her own, which would be a very wise decision, indeed.

My youngest nephew, fathered 3 healthy kids, but the 2 eldest, both girls, each have given birth to kids with birth defects.  His youngest has not yet had any children, but I don't hold out hopes for defect free children there.

I never believed in the Old Testament God who visited the sins of the father onto the children, because I knew the New Testament God who gave us the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ.  However, as I look at my great nieces and nephews, I have to wonder if I have been wrong.  I have to assign the sin of the father mostly to my brother, and to my father, because he initially set all this in motion.  But my brother...  His treatment, no, his abuse, of his sons set up his youngest son to carry on the abuse.  And it is that side of the family which is experiencing the latest birth defects.  We've lost one great-great nephew to a birth defect, and the future is not the rosiest for my newest great-great niece, who, at 6 days old, had open heart surgery, and faces at least 3 more.  She may have immune problems, speech problems, skeletal issues...  I am praying that her heart is her only issue, but I won't be surprised if she has other issues.  Right now she has a feeding tube down her nose, and it may be a month or more before she can get rid of it; she has to consume 60ccs from a bottle before it can come out... 

These innocent babies are being hurt.  My only great-great nephew narrowly survived a seriously premature birth, which was an physical issue of his mother.    He is now thriving, and seems to be free of the problems which killed his older brother.  And I am starting to believe that my father and brother are indeed at fault.  Yes, my decision to remain childless was indeed very smart.

Weakness, weariness

OK, call me weak.  I'll admit it. And oft times I believe it.  I am tired, so tired.  Tired of struggling, feeling inadequate, failing.  I am not inadequate, but people are beating me down and intimating.  Not easy to swallow after having worked so hard for 30 years to be hard to replace.  And it took 6 people to do all the parts of the jobs I did when I retired, and there were still things not getting done.  Hardly useless.  Tired of hurting all the time. Tired of not being able to breathe properly because I can't afford to go to the specialist, let alone afford the scripts that would ease the problems.  Tired of feeling alone so much of the time.  Tired of being yelled at much of the time, of enduring grouchiness from others when all I want to do is be grouchy, too. 

I do have Faith, but it does waiver.  There is always a - but what if...  I've always had trouble accepting things purely on Faith.  Been burnt so many times when told to "trust me", or even "trust in your Faith, "Trust the church".  Nearly always to be let down.  I know that God answers all prayers, but the answer may not be what we request, or even one that we can discern.  And I know that God doesn't answer all prayers.
But at least I do have Faith, imperfect as it is, imperfect as I am. 

While most would think it wrong, the thing that keeps me anchored here are my cats, especially Ptera.  Her exuberance, her lust for life, her complete adoration of me causes me to want to stay.  I am incapable of causing her mental anguish.  It is the most difficult thing to even gently reprove her for bad behavior.  If I do touch her physically to let her know she behaved very badly, it is a gentle poke.  We've teased her harder than such a poke.  But she understands the displeasure, and will steer clear of us for a while until she recovers from her indignity at being corrected.  Stern tone of voice elicits the same response.  At least when she chooses to "hear" us.  Spoiled brat.

Why Ptera?  Sometimes I think that Smude found his way home through her.  She certainly ended up in our yard as opposed to all the other choices.  But she was feral, and it took several days to be able to capture her so she'd not suffer from the cold and rain and being outside.  That first day inside she let the household know that I was hers.  And she won my heart so quickly.  I am almost frightened at how much I love that cat.  I never thought I'd love a cat as deeply as I did Smudge, or at least this soon after his demise.  It was  nearly 20 years between Zade and Smudge.  It has only been 5 between Smudge and Ptera.  Zade kept me grounded all those years ago, then Smudge.  Now Ptera. 

Ptera is so innocent, so totally enraptured with us, especially me.  She doesn't reject Kent, but he is the reason she runs and hides far more often than I.  He terrifies her if he is wearing a hat.  His entry into the house nearly always causes her to panic and run and hide, albeit not a far nor for as long as when she first entered our home.  The person who tore her from her momma must have been a man wearing a hat... it had to have been traumatic for her.  If her fear isn't related to being torn from her first home, then someone in a hat had to threaten her so severely that she can't forget it.  But she found herself in our yard, and wriggled her cute little self into our lives.  Kittens grow up to be adult cats and lose their kittenish looks and size. God granted me a great boon when Ptera turned out to be a mini-kitty. At nearly 2 years old she is the size of a 3/4 grown cat. She is such a petite thing, and will forever be part kitten because of her size. Maybe that is why I care so much for her.  She will always be my kitten.

Breathing problems kept me from my bedroom for over 6 weeks, and I slept nightly in a recliner.  Ptera might deign to sleep near me, even on the back of the chair, and very seldom, within arm's reach on the foot rest.  Once in a while she'd curl up on me, but only for a few minutes.  When I slept in the bedroom, she'd normally curl up in the small of my back, or the curve of my torso when she decided to sleep with me.  It used to be that it was all the time, but in the past few months, it was few and far between.  I sleep better with her curled up next to me.  But in the chair, she would not curl up with me.  I returned to the bedroom 5 weeks after the death of my father, and she returned with me, to either stretch out along my back, or to drape herself across my neck.  And she has been more attentive since we've returned to the bedroom.  

Are we addicted to one another?  Perhaps.  We do need one another, and I don't know who needs the other more.  But leave her I cannot do.  Ever.  For any reason.  She is what is keeping me sane, or at least able to maintain some semblance of sanity.  Perhaps the only thing.  I am a cat lover, and I do love the other 4 cats, but not like I love Ptera.  I know they would all adjust without me, but Ptera may not.  I am her world, the one port of safety in her world.  I will suffer what I have to suffer to be here for Ptera's sake.

Riding Is Such A Waste Of Time!

I absolutely HATE riding in a car for a distance over a few minutes to an hour.  There are days that even an hour seems like forever.  I know that driving/riding is the only way to get from one point to another, but that does NOT mean that I have to like it.  And believe me, I don't!!!!

It may be the result of the fact that I become nauseated if I try to read while in a moving vehicle.  I can manage for a few minutes, such as for reading a map, but anything more than that is not pleasant.  Therefore, as a child, I slept as a defense against the boredom of riding.  And as a result I often fall asleep when riding to this day.  I try not to, especially when the driver is relying on me to stay awake, but sometimes I just can't.

Yesterday, however, I managed to stay awake for over a 3.5 hour trip, both directions.  When there are stops along the way for gas, a meal, a stretch, it certainly helps!  Plus, there were 4 of us, driver included, so the converstation really never stopped.  And I know that Molly appreciated the company and the converstation to help keep her alert.