HLHS: Old Soul vs Old Before One's Time

Hopefully, this is the last in my 4-part series of "dealing" with several things that had been pushed aside in the course of life-changing events (returning from Mongolia, getting married, having a baby, our journey with HLHS, becoming a full time mom, etc). Now that the dust has settled a bit, many things have been catching up with us and demanding our attention.

One of the things I hear parents in the HLHS community say over and over again is that their experience with HLHS has aged them 100 years, or that they've aged beyond their time, that they feel an irrevocable sense of loss of their youth and are unequivocally adult now. I have a very old friend of the family whose grandson died of a CHD when he and I were teens, and when I talked to her about Himal's HLHS, the first thing she said was, "you're going to grow up really quickly now." I wasn't entirely sure what she meant, since I was already 29. Indeed, it has taken me a long time to fully understand just how having a child with HLHS can age a person so quickly. Is it the maturity required to go through something like this? Is it the stress and responsibility that ages us? Is the fact that most of us find ourselves at the crossroads of our relationships with God, spouse, family, friends-and some of these relationships grow exponentially, while others fall away--and become older, wiser souls?

It is all of these things--after standing at the crossroads with God for months, maybe even a year, my relationship with Him grew deeper and I learned truths I might not have otherwise. I became a lot closer to my parents and certain other family members, and left others behind who had no ability in them to provide even emotional support. I found out quickly who my good friends were versus who couldn't "handle something like this." I found out, and find out every day, which people in the world see light in tough situations and which do not (and by this, I don't mean those who provide cliches and false optimism, but those who see God's love in everything).

But, I've also realized that the HLHS experience has aged me in another way: I've become averse to change. Unfortunately, when it comes to change, I feel like a crotchety 78-year old lady. Maybe I have a touch of PTSD, but I've come to associate change with upheaval and disaster, filled with uncontrollable variables and unintended consequences. I've even become a bit of a Luddite, not wanting much more technological change in my life, thinking about starting a letter writing society (!), wishing I could go back and live in the 1970's!

I confided my thoughts on this to Esposo last night, because in the course of talking about the future lately, we've debated buying a house, debated going to day shift, etc--big changes--plus, I am starting to feel some anxiety about Himal's 3rd surgery. I feel like we've finally started cruising at a our status quo, we've finally really adjusted. I'd adjusted to our family being 2nd shift. Now, again, an opportunity or 2 has arisen that might allow him to go to a day shift--and while it's what we'd been wanting for awhile, suddenly the thought of yet another re-adjustment makes my stomach turn. It's the same feeling that made/makes me not want to move.

Anyway, in the course of our discussion I realized that disasters always seem to occur when I try to follow the herd, when I try to listen to what others say, when I try to tread the path that others do. Everyone keeps asking us "so when are you going to buy a house?" and suddenly we felt that yes, maybe we should, but then we realized that the only pros to buying a house would be having our own yard and being able to get a dog. I've always thought, long before the housing market crisis, that home ownership was a money pit, yet bosses and teachers would absolutely insist that I was wrong, that a home was the best economic investment one could make.

I love condo living. I really do. It allows us to have more amenities than we could afford in a home. It makes more economic sense--we don't all have to buy our own lawn mowers, for instance, we don't have to spend money on external repairs and upkeep, we don't have to make a time investment in the yard work. No, I can't have the garden of my dreams, yes, we have to deal with some pain in the neck people in the building, no, we don't have a yard for Himal. But plenty of people raise kids without their own yard--and we live close to parks, schools, and a nature preserve.

Our conversation went something like this:
M: I never imagined myself a homeowner. I don't want a frickin' lawn mower. That sounds like a nightmare to me. How lame, owning a lawn mower.
E: That's true. And we'd have to spend $ on other big appliances, and repairs.
M: Homes are money pits.
E: We'd just be another home in a row of many homes. On a block, within a row of many blocks.
M: And you'd be like some Ward Cleaver, marching off to work everyday.
E: God.
M: Would you expect me to iron your shirts and make you dinner?
E: Hell no. That's not why I married you. That's not what I want in a wife.
M: THANK GOD. That's so awesome.
E: Let's just keep living in condos.
M: Are you sure?
E: I think that's best.

That makes me feel better. Esposo and I have always done best when we do our own weird little thing, despite the pulls of convention, just being ourselves. I loved being in rural Mongolia, despite the horror expressed from some. We loved our Vegas wedding, despite the pull to include friends and family in something so personal. We love our condo, despite the "don't you think you should move to a house?" I love WI (Esposo a bit of a different story) despite "don't you think you should move someplace a bit more happening?" I love our beautiful little lakeshore town, despite "don't you think you should move closer to the city, you guys spend way too much time driving back and forth?" I love Esposo's funky work hours and days off, I am infinitely glad I chose to stay at home with Himal for awhile despite the pressures nowadays to be a working mom and "do it all."

I guess I shouldn't feel pressure to change and live up to others' expectations. But I do want what's best for all of us. I'm not quite certain if I'm being a stick in the mud, or allowing us to just be us. But I do know--I'm still adventurous...but for now, only when those adventures are temporary. When others around me either have gone or are going through changes, moving forward, why do I feel so content to just stay here? Do I lack ambition? Or do I just refuse to chase the elusive, knowing I have what I need for now?