Jeannine Seery

Why ask Why?

Jeannine Seery — Sun, 31 May 2009 19:32:05 +0000

Saturday was one of the most precious days of my life. My husband and I took our girls to the Bronx Zoo and spent the day together. Perfect weather, loads of fun, and memories I'll cherish for life.

By around 8pm last night I recognized the symptoms. I was getting a migraine headache and it was going to be a winner. After 18 hours of fitful sleep and intense pain, here I am semi-conscious writing this blog.

I am done asking why.

I laid on my sickbed for the first few hours wondering-- why did I get this headache? Was it something I ate? Too much stress? Not enough sleep? Too much sun? Not enough water?

I have laid on sickbeds for 22 years wondering the same thing. And yet, I find myself on the sickbed once again, and I suspect I will find myself there many times again before my life's end.

At the risk of sounding cliche, I never once asked why I had such a beautiful day with my family yesterday. I just drank it in, appreciating every moment, wishing it would last a little longer. If I'm not going to question why I was given such a gift, why should I question why I was given such pain?

Pain is a part of this life. I have my theories, but I"m not sure why. I don't think it really matters. I think what I need to do is roll up my sleeves, and figure out how best to live my life through it. And I know that there will come a day when it will all be gone. I live for that day.

Caution!!!

Jeannine Seery — Fri, 15 May 2009 21:31:20 +0000

Sitting at our local park today, I watched as a group of children (my own included) played with a few old strips of yellow caution tape. Some benches had been painted earlier that day and the tape had been used to prevent parkgoers from sitting on the wet seats. But the paint had long since dried and I sat and watched as the kids had their fun with the discarded yellow ribbon, playing tug-of-war, fashioning bandanas and headbands and having an all around good time.

No sooner did I sit back to soak in the sun, than I was bombarded by a fellow park mother, huffing and puffing and gathering up bits of caution tape as she went. "Do you see what the children are doing with this tape?", she asked. "Someone could get hurt! They're tying it around their necks, for goodness sake! Why isn't anyone stopping them.!!"

I think that last statement was directed at me.

As she collected the last bits of tape from the disappointed children and threw it in the trash, I thought about how my perspective had changed since I first began this parenting journey. I think that at one time, I would have agreed with my compatriot at the playground and tried to insulate my daughters from anything that might be even remotely dangerous from them, while I closely tracked their every move. That was back when I thought that my viglience was somehow related to their safety. The more I've parented, the more I've begun to wonder if the two are related at all. Try as I might, I can't protect them from every evil in the world. And I'm not sure that I should. A little pain can be a pretty good teacher, from as I recall.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not an advocate of careless parenting. Maybe its just that I've just become lazier over the years. But I'd like to think that I've grown to realize that sometimes to experience life to the fullest you have to be exposed to a little danger. Maybe even scrape a knee or two. Sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind. Or at least a little caution tape.

Casting the First Stone

Jeannine Seery — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 01:04:35 +0000

Have you heard the latest sensationalized news story? A 45 year old suburban mom, tired of hearing her 10 and 12 year old daughters fight in the back seat of the family car, made good on her threat to leave her kids on the side of the road in the business district of White Plains, NY. Thankfully, both children made it home safely; the mother of the children, Madlyn Primoff, is being charged with endangering the welfare of a child. You can read the full story here.

Public reaction to this woman's behavior has been extremely strong. I've heard all kinds of suggestions on how she should have dealt with the backseat bickering, coupled with expressions of intense anger regarding how irresponsible her actions were. Personally, when I first heard the story, one thought ran through my head. There but for the grace of God go I.

Perhaps I'm in the minority here, but parenting my children often proves to be far more frustrating than I ever imagined it would be. Couple that with the fact that it is a 24/7 job and it sometimes becomes more than I can bear. I have often had thoughts of walking out of my house, down the street and getting on the first bus to Anywhere-else-but-here. No, I haven't acted on these thoughts. But I don't believe for a second that it is because of my own virtue that I haven't. I believe that a combination of adequate coping skills, prayer and the mercy of God have served to get me throught those seemingly unbearable parenting moments. And I pray that they will continue to do so.

Honestly, I feel sad for Ms. Primoff. I'm sad that she felt that the only option she had at that moment was leaving her girls on the side of the road. And I'm sad that she is now the victim of a thousand pointing fingers. I have no idea what circumstances drove her to do what she did. I can only be thankful that I haven't had to walk a mile in her shoes. And I pray that God would bring some good out of this situation for this family.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

Jeannine Seery — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 03:35:05 +0000

Lately, I have been fighting what feels like a losing battle. I am a parent of an 8 year old with a learning disability that effects her social, emotional and academic development. That's the technical way of saying that life with my little girl is often very, very difficult.

From the moment she wakes up in the morning, until she goes to bed in the evening, much of my day is spent trying to organize my daughters life so that she doesn't become completely overwhelmed. At this point in her development, she lacks the capacity to do that for herself. Even the smallest frustration can set my child into a tailspin that will take her hours to recover from, and cause division and pain between the members of our family. My husband and I are constantly trying to tailor our parenting approach to best suit both of our childrens needs and create the most healthy environment possible for each member of the family. Some days, it seems like it might be easier to turn water into wine.

I've struggled a great deal over the past 8 years as I've watched my daughter develop into the child she's become. I had great visions and dreams of who she would be when I first held her in my arms. Very few of these have come to pass. I have spent a lot of my my time as her mother agonizing over the mistakes I've made along the way-- did I wait too long to get her the help she needed? Are there other methods or practices out there that I haven't explored that would suit her better? I feel as though I've spent eight long years searching for the keys that will unlock the mysteries of my daughters heart and mind. And much to my chagrin, I'm no closer to finding them today than I was when I first held her in my arms.

Lately, though, I've been entertaining the thought that perhaps she is not my puzzle to solve. The God who created her knows the number of hairs on her head. He formed her in my womb and He knew each of the challenges that she would face long before I did He is not surprised by her disabilites, shocked by her behavior, frustrated by her unresponsiveness. He knows how to reach her heart and I am confident that He will. He loves her ever so much more than I ever could. And he will not let her go. He has engraved her on the palm of His hand.

What If?

Jeannine Seery — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 03:23:57 +0000

I'm mulling over my belief system lately, specifically as it has to do with the role of prayer in my life.

I've had a lot of amazing things happen to me in the brief time I've been on this earth. Some have been very, very good and some very, very bad. Which of these things twere delivered to me by the hand of God? Which have been the consequence of living in a very fallen world?

What if, somehow, the steps of my life have been ordained for me from the beginning of time and the role that God has played all along has been that of comforter and keeper? What if the primary purpose of my prayers have been to connect me to the only source of solace I could ever find and enable me to find meaning in the sometimes meaningless events that have befallen me? While it seems somewhat irresponsible to adopt the mindset that 'Whatever will be, will be.", it also feels quite freeing, knowing that the God who loves me with an everlasting love appointed my steps before time began. Even when my personal universe seems to be crumbling, He holds me in His hands and will make things right-- if not in this life, then in the next.

Thoughts? Anyone??

Beyond Comprehension

Jeannine Seery — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 13:10:56 +0000

¹ Who has believed our message
and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?

² He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
       and like a root out of dry ground.
       He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
       nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

³ He was despised and rejected by men,
       a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
       Like one from whom men hide their faces
       he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

⁴ Surely he took up our infirmities
       and carried our sorrows,
       yet we considered him stricken by God,
       smitten by him, and afflicted.

⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions,
       he was crushed for our iniquities;
       the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
       and by his wounds we are healed.

⁶ We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
       each of us has turned to his own way;
       and the LORD has laid on him
       the iniquity of us all.

⁷ He was oppressed and afflicted,
       yet he did not open his mouth;
       he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
       and as a sheep before her shearers is silent,
       so he did not open his mouth.

⁸ By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
       And who can speak of his descendants?
       For he was cut off from the land of the living;
       for the transgression of my people he was stricken.

⁹ He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
       and with the rich in his death,
       though he had done no violence,
       nor was any deceit in his mouth.

¹⁰ Yet it was the LORD's will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
       and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering,
       he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
       and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.

¹¹ After the suffering of his soul,
       he will see the light of life and be satisfied ;
       by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
       and he will bear their iniquities.

¹² Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,^]
       and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
       because he poured out his life unto death,
       and was numbered with the transgressors.
       For he bore the sin of many,
       and made intercession for the transgressors.

Isaiah 53

Seedlings

Jeannine Seery — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 17:23:41 +0000

I've been sitting as the guest of honor at my very own pity party lately, thinking of all of the ways that life isn't working out the way I've hoped it would. That is, when I'm not taking Facebook quizzes that tell me Which Molecule I'm Most Like or What Name My Parents Should Have Given Me or What Part of the Digestive Tract I Most Resemble (OK, I made that last one up, but the first ones are true.)

About a foot from where I sit is a small container garden where my daughters and I are making our first attempt at growing our own vegetables. Sure enough, little sprouts are starting to peek out from the soil. I was looking at these seedlings after completing my last Facebook quiz (FYI- I should have been named Brooke) and thinking about my forefathers and how plants like these would have made the difference between life or death for them. A successful crop meant enough food for the winter. Enough to sell or trade for the goods needed to make it through another year. Crop failure would equal death. For me, it simply means I'll be buying my tomatoes at the Stop and Shop this year.

These same forefathers didn't have the time to wonder if they were living their best life now or whether or not they were achieving the utmost job satisfaction. Interestingly enough, they don't seem to have been any worse off for it. Nor do we seem any happier for all of the self fulfillment we're now able to pursue. Kind of makes me wonder. ...

GO RED!!

Jeannine Seery — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 18:30:07 +0000

Tomorrow, February 6th is National Wear Red Day, a day set apart to raise awareness for heart disease in women. http://www.goredforwomen.org/ Needless to say, I'll be all decked out in crimson. How about you?

Obviously, this cause hits very close to home. Not only am I a woman and a heart attack survivor, I was almost misdiagnosed, in my opinion, due to my age and gender.

On the morning of January 1st, 2005, I experienced severe chest pain, shortness of breath and tingling in my left arm. The ambulance came, took my vitals and asked me a few questions. I was 2 weeks postpartum- had I been unusually stressed or anxious lately? (Yes) Had I ever have a panic attack? (Yes) Did I think I might be having one right now? (Possibly) As I answered the paramedics, the tightness in my chest began to subside. Finally, they asked me the most important questions of all.

Do you want to go to the hospital? Do you think you need to?

Had I been a 50 year old man presenting with the same symptoms, I would have been on my way to the ER, no questions asked. But because I was a 'healthy' young woman, it was assumed that my problem was probably psychological. I was an overwhelmed Mommy with too much on my plate- there was no need to go to the hospital to diagnose that.

Fortunately, I could feel the tightness in my chest beginning to return and I decided to get it checked out. Something just didn't feel right. Better to be safe than sorry, no? Less than 4 hours later, they were sawing open my sternum in an attempt to repair my badly damaged heart. Had I decided to wait it out at home, I would have died.

Just today, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine who has been experiencing shortness of breath. It's probably nothing, she said, stating that she was embarrassed to go to the doctor if the problem was 'all in her head'. Its a sentiment I hear echoed by many women I speak to. Our ailments are often dismissed by the medical community and are attributed to stress, anxiety or our imagination.

So tomorrow, I'll be wearing my red V-neck sweater that shows off my very real surgical scar. I wear red to remind myself and every woman in my life that it is we who know our bodies best and when our instincts tell us that something within us is going awry we deserve to be heard.

Breathless

Jeannine Seery — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 04:38:28 +0000

I went out with my husband this evening, our first date night in who knows how long. We were enjoying a leisurely dinner together when we realized that if we didn't hurry, we would miss the movie we were planning to catch. We quickly paid our bill and set out to begin the 15 minute walk from the restaurant to the theater. With little time to spare, we began to pick up speed in an effort to be seated before the opening credits.

Crossing streets, running briskly up and down stairs I could feel it. Rapid breathing. Quickened heartbeat. All within the range of 'normal', I suppose. But to me, regardless of the circumstances, rapid breathing and a quickened heartbeat will never feel normal. What the average person experiences during exertion feels like a heart attack to me. It brings me right back to that awful day, sitting on my bed trying desperately to catch my breath. It scares the life out of me.

I've never enjoyed exercise, but over the past years I've had a really difficult time getting myself to work out. When I push my body, even to within 'normal' limits, I begin to wonder if my heart can take it. It doesn't matter that I've been told that it can. I feel my scarred heart pounding within my chest and I wonder how long before it gives out. How bad does it have to get before I call the ambulance? I start to map out the route to the nearest hospital, envision the scene inside the ER when I arrive. I tell myself its illogical, but my mind goes there every time.

We got to our destination just in time this evening, and although it didn't take me tlong to catch my breath, it took me longer to shake that feeling of something being terribly wrong inside my body. I guess I've come to accept these experiences as collateral damage from my heart attack, yet another way my life won't ever be the same. That doesn't make it any easier.

14 Days

Jeannine Seery — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 00:14:33 +0000

In the past 14 days I've been quite busy. I've driven my children to and from school eight times. I've served about a dozen breakfast, lunches and dinners. I've gone to the grocery store, the pet store, our local Mall, Dunkin' Donuts and a variety of other local businesses. I've accompanied my kids to two doctors appointments and my dog to one vet appointment. I'm sure there's more I could add, but I won't bore you.

Four years ago today, I returned home following a 14 day hospital stay. I look at all that I've been able to cram into this two week span and I can't believe I spent that much time away from my home, my family, my life. More significantly, I remember tthe uncertainty I came home to. I had no idea what shape my life would take from that moment on. I was limited in everything I could do- from sitting in the front seat of a car, to going up and down stairs. How much 'normal' activity I'd be able to resume was a mystery. Considering how weak I felt, I wasn't hopeful.

Yet here I am, four short years later, a full participant in the life I almost lost. I remember being told, by those with greater faith than I, that I'd get to this place eventually, but I didn't believe it. Just another example of God trading beauty for ashes, I guess. I pray this reality never gets 'old' for me. I can't imagine it ever will.