Last night

Last night, I put my son to bed unsure if he would be alive this morning.

When M feels okay, he wanders at night. After a fateful night when he wandered from his bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, in the laundry room in the basement and back again without my waking up, I realized that it was only by the grace of God that this child had not wandered out the front door and been lost Since that day, he sleeps with a baby gate in his doorway. As he has grown and gotten more advanced in his Houdini skills, II has built our own baby gates to contain him. We use that gate to both keep him safe at night and to have place to contain him when he rages. Some nights, M rages and screams all night and never sleeps. Other nights, he sleeps like the dead. Long before his current march to the end, we learned we had no choice but to carefully potty him and then sleep regardless of how he sleeps. Rarely is he up screaming all night, but about half the time he is dead to the world.

There was the night last fall when he had surgery scheduled in the morning when we got one hour of him not frantic. While II and he needed to leave for the hospital by 4:30, II ultimately got up and left at 2am simply to allow the rest of his to sleep. He spent the entire night screaming he was going to be late to the hospital and he HAD to go NOW. II got a little bit of rest at a rest area on the road and then listened to M scream in the car for nearly two hours in the hospital parking lot when they got there so insanely early.

So, there's little predicting what M will do at night, and when he is sleeping well, you are loathe to risk waking him. Since January, I've worked to come to peace with the reality that at some point he will simply not wake. Since the most likely way that M will die is from hepatic encephalopathy it means that at some point he will get tired and simply not wake up. That is far preferred to the lung exacerbations when he rages out of control because he cannot breathe and he is terrified. It's also better then possibility that he will have a sudden, unpredictable bleed and pour blood out of his body until he is dead.

I can only cheat death for so long. I can't even do that if I stay up every night listening for how M sleeps and trying to determine whether tonight is the night he dies. I've come to an impasse with death on these nights he is not doing well. I don't like it, but I take a melatonin, say a long prayer and then put myself to bed to wait and see what the morning brings. On the mornings afterward, unless I am greated by the normal M screams for the bathroom (typically said after he has confused his bedroom for such), I or II check on him before any of the kids get near his room.

Yesterday, M deteriorated throughout the day. His lungs were stable and healthy but his liver symptoms continued to escalate throughout the day. He was supposed to start his antibiotics that keep the ammonia levels under control on Sunday. Thus far, while he's shown signs of rising levels, he's made it to the scheduled start of these meds each time. Two days ago, he started inducing vomiting and starting the frentic bizarre behaviors that warn us that another crash is coming. Yesterday afternoon, he started rapid breathing. However, examining him showed me that his lungs were stable. By bedtime, the puking behaviors were out of control, he appeared to have a fever and his pulse was up to 142. I made the decision to start his antibiotics early.

We kept him in the living room for 30 minutes past giving him the meds, even though he was screaming he was tired and wanted to sleep. I knew there was a risk he would throw the meds up once he hit his room, but he had been screaming at the top of his lungs all day and I was beyond the ability to function with the screaming. So, we put him to bed. I immediately heard him retching. There was no point in checking for the meds. If I start pushing when he gets like this, he goes violent. Plus, as I said, I can only cheat death for so long. When I am fighting suicidal behaviors, I cannot fight death AND him.

So, I went to bed unsure if the antibiotics made it into his system and knowing that if they had not, then the ammonia would rise in the night and he would be beyond helping by morning.

Hospice doesn't understand why I fight in the first place. They would prefer I simply let death come. They seem incapable of understanding that M would not last a month without the fight I put into his care. I won't take extraordinary measures. I'm working hard to avoid more hospitalizations. However, I cannot justify not taking ordinary measures to prolong what little life M has left. I give him the meds, but I don't hold him and stop his raging all night so guarantee the meds can work. Thus, I didn't know if my son would be alive today.

He awoke me with the normal screaming behaviors for me to know he made it through the night again. His breathing and pulse are restablized this morning which tells me he didn't vomit his meds last night. Since its the weekend, we get to handle the lovely duty of cleaning him and the bedroom today.

Even my own children and nanny do not understand that I live with this daily reality now. People ask me how M is doing and I don't honestly know what to say. When he is not crashing, he is typical for M. When he is crashing, I lose sleep and I lay awake hoping it's a night that he is screaming and not sleeping well just so I know he is alive, but then have to question is it standard screaming or pain screaming that requires pain meds. Sometimes, those are very hard to distinquish. Dying is proving to be torture for him behaviorally. It tortures me to watch him live with this. Yet, this is my life in this season. I just don't talk about it much. I tend to see people backing away with big eyes if I do. Better to leave others to not walk the path I must walk these days.

No good deed

While we knew that M was dying now, and not some theortical point in the future, we pulled inward While we have always suspected that there might be one or two more children for our family, we knew during this journey that needed to not be the case. We need to focus on our dying son and his grieving siblings.

Yet, another quiferful exile crossed our paths. This was one whose story has been told dozens and dozens of times, a story whispered but not spoken aloud. This exile was an adoptee, specifically a West African just like our A. The family was looking to ship this child back to their homecountry, or simply dump them in US fostercare. Because I have known a dozen of these adoptees who were quietly shipped back to this specific homecountry from the quiverful movement, I knew the threat to be credible. The child's issues mirrored our son's and we felt we were capable of helping this child and we offered to do so.

We believe in adoption ethics. We believe that adoption is borne of loss and every loss a child suffers is another trauma that can be avoided. The family wanted us to move foward with adopting this child, we suggested instead we try to work with this child for a year, if the family could be reunited, then that would be less losses for this child, and if not then we would know by then whether it could be a permenant situation.

I forgot my own assessment of what the Patriachal movement does to men. Either they become abusive or they self implode with the effort of not harming their family. I also forgot the lessons my LMB has taught me, that Narcissists are highly drawn to the movement because of the power and control it automatically provides them. If I had remembered those lessons, we would not be heartbroken today.

S came into our home and quickly stole all of our hearts. S is an amazing person, and the issues that caused S to be removed from the home very quickly showed to be issues with the quiverful culture that S was exiled from. Even more startling to me was that S's very name, the name given by their birthmother in their birthcountry is the ONLY name God ever laid on my heart for one of my children that never entered my home. It's a long story, but ultimately that there was never meant to be an S amongst my children. When we adopted M, we severed his name from the S name and assumed S would never exist. Yet, here was S, and S entered the US the same week M came into our home.

Maybe God meant for S to be ours and man changed things for evil. Certainly, it would have been an honor to have called S my child forever, and even as we are grieving and saying goodbye, S has stated their own desire to stay in our home. However, when we forgot the lessons I've written in this blog, we engaged the family that was moving S as if they were logical, asne, and had S interests at heart. I should have remembered that people who have a child's interests at heart do not treat that child like garbage. I remembered all of those lessons too late to save this placement.

Ultimately, II refused to stand in the face of evil doings and call them good. When II refused to call them good, the legal father of S realized that S meant something to us, though this child meant nothing to him, and has removed S from our home as punishment for daring to speak truth.

The story of this amazing exile is just beginning to be written. Someday, when S is fully safe, I hope to share a lot more. Though S will not be a forever member of our family, this child has stolen our hearts. More important, when II heard the call to stand in the gap and help S, he also found his faith in God again. He momentarily lost it again when the legal father used S as a weapon and a pawn but is holding onto shaky ground in his faith as we watch S's story unfold and we be used to help this exile to ultimate safety, even if it is not with us.

I do not regret to opening our home and hearts to S. I do regret that once again I let that world hurt my children. They are losing a child they have fallen in love with completely and totally. My poor baby J is heartbroken. He has spent the last three months in weekly art therapy coming to grips with losing M and now cannot figure out what the difference is between losing S whom we cannot have continued contact with, and losing M, who is dying. He wants to know if S is going to heaven to be with S's new mommy. He is absolutely devestated because he wanted this child to stay in our home forever. He does not want S to leaave, and I cannot tell him that we will ever see S again.

This man who has used this child as a weapon to teach us a lesson for opposing him, who operates in a religious movment that supposedly puts children has having value and being blessings, cares nothing for his child nor mine. He has no care that he has destroyed the heart of a little three year old who only did what this man wanted us to do, to love this child and try to help this hurting child heal. This story will have a happy ending eventually, but it won't include us. J will be heartbroken and not instead of losing merely one sibling, he will lose two.

I hate that we ever found that lifestyle seductive. I hate worse that children are still being hurt in that world I'm not sure if I have the heart to ever open myself to help another one after this. After a decade of passionate fighting for these hurting kids, I'm not sure I can do it again.

Yet even in this, God has thought of my broken heart today. In the midst of our pain tonight, as we celebrate S's birthday before we say good-bye, today I got my letter from my BSN program. After two months of fighting them to get all of what they supposedly need, having to go through one appeal and having them lose my transcripts thrice, I am OFFICIALLY accepted to my RN-BSN program, the one that has all but the preceptorship online so I can work around M's issues. My dreams move forward, even if today my heart is breaking and my bitterness towards the world I left is hard to let go of today.

Balancing act

I've been getting up every morning to walk. I had one minor fiasco when I realized I had set my alarm for a one time thing and got up too late. I did attempt to walk that afternoon but being outside of my routine I forgot to use my inhaler before setting out and forgot to bring one with me as well. I managed to trigger an asthma attack and limped back home instead of finishing what I started. II said I deserved credit for simply putting my shoes on and attempting it. I felt better realizing later that I had actually made it halfway through the walk, despite my mistake. Wasn't quite what I was hoping for, but at least it's still moving and pushing ahead. So, this morning J showed up in the bed at 3 am. He is awaiting an appointment with a Pediatric Pulmonologist because he shows clear signs of asthma as well, and since moving this spring it has gotten worse. He was supposed to have his appointment in September. However, smart mother that I am, I made his appointment with M's Pulmonologist. II spoke to his nurse yesterday and he's willing to work J in after M's appointment in June. For now, we use the rescue inhaler and half of my adult dosage of nebulized medications when he needs to use the nebulizer. The pediatrician threw the prescription for the rescue inhaler on our way out of our last state because it was the fastest and easiest way to help him breath until I could get him to a specialist. This morning he was coughing and puking and wheezing. II held him while he coughed the rest of the night. When the alarm went off at 5:20, we were hoping he would fall back asleep and we could sneak out to walk. Instead he went hysterical on us. So, we made the spot decision. Exercise, even for the most noble of causes, can wait. Sick children come first. I'll walk this evening. This time, I will remember my inhaler so I can walk the entire route. Nothing is so important that I leave a sick baby hysterical to do it, not even my health. Exercise in the evening is still exercise and this morning my baby needed me to hold him a little longer. These are the hats I wear. Sometimes I can focus on me, but other times I have to focus on those who need me. I am a mother, just as I am many other things. Motherhood has been the defining role of my life. My journey to find me came from trying to find a space where I could see me inside of the motherhood. It wasn't able setting aside that motherhood but finding a balance that allows me to be me and not merely someone's mother. Sometimes, the balance goes the other direction and I still really do have to set aside my own desires, needs, wants, or identity to simply be someone's mother. I've been doing the mothering thing a lot this week, and I have to do it alot more before my week is over. It is what it is. So long as I don't forget that I'm still in there, the balance will come back to center again eventually. It was when I forgot that I lost myself in the role.

I hurt

For the last 15 months, I have woken up almost every single night with my back burning. The pain has been so bad that I have to leave the bed and finish the night in our Pappassan chair (thank you Pier One) so that I can put my back in a neutral position and stretch out the burning. When I started having weekly massage, the pain went away. However, it came back a week later and even the massages aren't totally getting rid of it. I won't see a Chiropractor for it. The last time I tried that, I couldn't walk for a month until I stopped seeing the Chiro, who was supposed to help it. I've always had back problems The curve in my lower spine curves much like a gymnast's, except mine is genetic. When I was smaller, I could use strength training and lots of walking to keep my back healthy. Ever since I had three epidural insertions with J's birth, everything I could do to manage that back pain has been pointless. I've been at the mercy of the pain when it comes and stay at it's mercy until it goes away on it's own. It's been here for 15 months and just not getting better. Yesterday, I had the brillant idea that I would use the Pappassan to hold the overflowing clean laundry while I work to try and get it caught up. That meant that last night I didn't have the chair to go stretch my back in. By sunrise, I was in so much pain I could barely move. So, I threw some clothes on, tossed my hair back, grabbed a water bottle and sweater (it was in the 30s here this morning) and went walking. By the time I was 2/3 of the way through my walk, my back was starting to move and not burn so badly. It still hurts. It still hurts pretty badly, but it's better than it's been in awhile once the pain starts. I'm hoping a warm shower will help as well. I really do think if I focus myself to move when I hurt instead of curling up and hiding, then I might help this pain somewhat. I just don't have time in my life to be stopped by pain. Everyone around me keeps telling me that I have to take care of myself. Really, I try. However, when it gets like it is today, I don't have time to stop and be IN pain. Today, I have too much to do. I have to conquer that chair of clean laundry. The children wash and dry the laundry. I sort and fold it and then they put it away. If I have anyone else sort it, they do strange sorting and everyone loses clothing. So, I'm the only person who can do that sorting process. II doesn't know which clothes belong to whom anymore than the kids or the nanny do. It's my job, and it's one job I cannot delegate. It's piled up right now because I ran all last week and my laundry hero for the week didn't wash the stuff. So, this week's laundry hero has to wash a ton to catch the clean clothes up, and I have to sort and sort and sort until I want to pull my hair out. It's the only option. In addition to Mt. St. Laundry, we're doing work on M's bedroom. We thought we had it secured well when we moved here. He's autistic with major behavioral issues and the medical advantage that he can have his behaviors. He has bad habits involving body fluids--all of his body fluids. His room had carpet in it. So, we've pulled all of the carpet up. Underneath was old tile. We weren't sure how old the tile was until this morning. Whomever laid that tile floor put newspaper between it and the old hardwood. The newspaper was dated November 1945. The hardwoods don't need sanded. However, they need to be scrubbed well, any loose boards secured. Then, II is staining his hardwoods and sealing them with polyurethene. I know there are more environmentally sound options. However, poly is the only option that keeps hardwoods safe from M. Poly hardwood survives M quite well. Nothing else really does. We have to re-do the acrylic casing in front of his window. M also has a habit of destroying windows. So we cover the entire windowframe in acrylic so protect him. It wasn't secured quite as much as it needed to do for M's needs, so we'll reattach it properly. Then, we're painting his baby gate. M has to have a homemade baby gate. It's basically a dutch door made of plywood. We didn't paint it when we moved it. Raw plywood does not wash M's bodily fluids off well. This morning while II is working on those hardwoods, I will be painting M's babygate with a high gloss fire engine red paint. Red is M's favorite color. He'll like the color of his safety gate, and we'll like how easily those bodily fluids wash off of the high gloss shine. This afternoon, someone gave our family tickets to the circus. We took the kids for the first time a year ago. Now, we're going to take them again. It's odd. People find out about M and they gift us with things to bless us. At this point in the process, I don't try to stop anyone. Every bit of joy that can be given to these children is something they should have. I remind myself that the days of joy with M are running low. We need to embrace them as much as we can.

Slight modification

So, I'm trying to understand my body, my past, and the labels that I've allowed to shape my understanding of me for so long. In a dicussion of my son with Dyspraxia, I realized that I have the same major symptom he has....and Dyspraxia would explain so much of my own challenges with exercise in my lifetime. With Dyspraxia, it's not that you cannot exercise, which is something I've sought to teach my son. It's something you need to be aware of. It helps you understand why your diaphragm starts to hurt with exercise. In my case, I cannot recall ever having that pain in my diaphragm that isn't also accompanied by coughing and gasping....my asthma. In walking this morning to just start moving, I treated the asthma. Eight minutes into the walk, I had that pain in my diaphragm anyway, but no coughing and gasping and wanting to puke. Well, that certainly explains why I would rather poke my eyeballs out than run. Even when I was young and in terrific shape, I preferred gentle exercise. I used to walk three miles every morning, but if I was expected to jog or run it was horrible. I hiked long, complicated mountain trails, but weight lifting had to be built up very, very slowly. In that case, a couch to 5K program is not going to be a good option for me. Running may be something I can do, but it's not going to be something I can jump into immediately. With Dyslexia, you have to build endurance. You have to start slowing, don't stop when you feel the pain in the diapragm per se, but slow down until the pain subsides, and continue to build tolerance every day. Instead of the couch to 5K, I'm going to approach this differently. I discovered this morning that my doggy loves to go for walks. It's a bumpy country road here, so it's perfect for walking. When I headed out the drive-way, Lady Jane came running to me and whined to come with us. The entire time we walked, she kept checking on me. She'll make an excellent companion for my exercise. Plus, the vet told me before that the best thing I could do for my Golden Retriever doggy on her beagle body is to keep her at the lower end of her weight scale so that she can avoid the typical beagle aging issues from the weight. With the Golden Retriever part of her, she's broad and inclined towards the upper end of her weight scale but her poor beagle legs and spine are going to respond just like a beagle legs and spine would for a fat beagle. So, walking with me will be good for her and for me. II typically exercises in high intensity. He stopped when we moved here because it took time away from the family, but he needs to exercise for his health and well being. He also misses going to the gym and pushing his body. Right now, he's walking with me. My legs are something like a third as long as his. Even when I was in great physical shape, he had to crawl to stay at my pace. It's not real exercise for him. However, for now, he wants to be with me. I'm sure he wants to watch over me. Given how shot my lungs are from the asthma, and given what I've realized about the Dyspraxia, I cannot argue that a human walking partner is a good idea for me right now. The goal is to set aside the running training program for now. Every day until Labor Day, I'm going to get up every morning and walk for around thirty minutes. Today, we set the marker for where I will walk to. Given how out of shape I am, I expect it will take more than thirty minutes for the next week or two, but I have a visual marker for my pace. It puts me at 1.1 miles to start out. I'll walk to my marker at my pace, then turn around and go home. When I can do that and it's consistently less than the 30 minutes, then I'll push to a new marker point. On weekdays, II and I will get up at 5:20 and he'll walk with me. By Labor Day, the sun will be rising later around here. I'll have a habit formed, and my lungs and dyspraxia should be rehabilitating. At that point, I'll push my walk time to 6:40 for the school year. The early bus kids have to be at the road at 6:40 to catch their bus. When I send them to catch the bus, Lady Jane and I will go for our walk. They get a LOT of snow in this area. Sometime this winter, I might have to put a treadmill in my bedroom for days that I cannot navigate around the snow. However, I'm going to walk even in the cold of winter. At that point, II will go back to the gym. That's where he enjoys working out, and there's one very close to his job. Once he knows Lady Jane and I have our routine and my lungs are working better, then he can go work out and shower there, and leave Lady Jane to watch over me in the mornings. Having her expecting to have her morning walk will be as much a motivation to keep me going as having him to nudge me out the door this summer once I'm in the habit of it. I can re-evaluate later and possible add more exercise. However, I'm not doing this to get into shape. I'm not doing this to lose weight. I'm doing this because aerobic exercise is one of the few things you can do to improve asthma. I need to rehabilitate my lungs. This is something I can do. I need to respect my body. I need to recognize that exercise and well being is not a one size fits all proposal. I've always known that I do better with walking, hiking, dancing, and slowly building weight training. I've just accepted the explanation that I do better with this because I'm still lazy and out of shape even when I'm consistently exercising and in shape. Now I realize, I do better with this style of exercise because I am a unique individual with unique challenges that I need to acknowledge and accomodate for. It's not out of shape to walk three miles a day. It's simply NOT. I wasn't out of shape simply because it hurt to run those three miles when I could walk them in an hour. So, I'll honor my body and realize that exercise can look any number of ways for different people. This is how it needs to look for me. Walking is aerobic if you walk at least a mile. It still rehabilitates my lungs without running.

Might be crazy

I just suggested to II that we get up at 5:20 every morning (he normally gets up at 5:40 these days and I normally get up at 6 to wake the early bus riders) and we start a couch to 5K program. I just learned that there are podcasts to go with the program. Now that I'm not using my rescue inhaler daily, I really want to focus on exercise again. While I could definitely use it for weight loss and lifestyle issues, what I am most concerned about is rehabilitating my lungs. The vast majority of my thyroid symptoms appear to have calmed down with the switch to Armour Thyroid. The new asthma meds are doing well for controlling my asthma. However, I don't want to spend the rest of my life worried that every cold will knock me out and require oral steriods just so I can breath again. So, I've been debating something for exercise out here in the country. We don't have sidewalks, but half of my neighbors walk, jog, or run on these country roads every day. Normally, I've always been a walker, just a straight out walker. It may prove to be that I need to just stick to the walking. I have horrific memories of high school gym where I was forced to run a mile every week and was wheezing and gasping for air, feeling like I was going to suffocate and pass out. I'm not sure why my gym teachers never recognized that I was having asthma attacks. However, I accepted a label that I was lazy and incapable of running. I don't want to accept that label anymore. II needs running shoes. So, he's going to buy them this weekend and we're going to start this on Monday. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I will wake the early bus riders then walk solo. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday we'll do the C25K, which means we only have to get up at 5:20 twice a week. II does well when he exercises three times per week, especially with the stress he's under at work. I know me. If I let myself not exercise more than one day per week, I stop doing it. I like walking. I like the alone time. So, three days per week I will simply walk (unless I actually CAN learn to run and eventually will work up to running), three days we'll train together, and one day I will rest. I may regret this, but I need to exercise for my health, not merely for my weight struggles. I have to start somewhere. I'm assuming that I will likely have to take more than the nine weeks normally recommended. However, II is going to sign us up for a 5K for Labor Day. So, I have until Labor Day to at least be able to job a 5K even if I cannot fully run it. If I start the habit now, then when the weather gets cold and dark, I will already have the habit established....even if I have to buy a treadmill for winter weather.

Going back to school

I'm going back to school this fall. Not really a surprise. My Bachelor's degree was only a stepping stone in my career goals from the get-go, so it's no surprise that I'm taking the next step. However, the next step is RN-BSN. I hold an Associates in Nursing but my Bachelor's is in Sociology. When I went back, I didn't think my nursing could be salvaged. I wasn't certain I wanted to be a nurse again. It was easier to finish the first Bachelor's in Sociology than try to salvage the nursing when I wasn't even certain where I was going. I'm still torn on where to go. On one hand, I dearly want a PhD in Sociology, to become a college professor and to teach. On the other hand, I realized I love nursing and I have a tremendous gift with mental health care. I'm still not certain which path I'm going to turn down. However, I'm leaning heavily towards the PMHN, Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner, program. Whichever path I follow, I have to take my GRE by fall and apply for graduate school by January. However if I want to pursue the nurse practitioner route, I have to do one step that is really essential. I have to complete the Bachelor's in Nursing. Any Masters program I could pursue would require I earn it en route, and many programs are unattainable to me without the BSN in the first place. While it might be less helpful if I opt for the PhD in Sociology, it is still a smart decision to complete it. With my Bachelor's in Sociology, the BSN becomes a second Bachelors and I only require the upper division nursing coursework. For about 30 hours of nursing classes, I can have my BSN locked in and forever held if want to expand upon it or not. It's just a smart decision to finish the BSN. However, with M's current health issues, attending a classroom option is risky. I truly cannot predict what will happen with M in the next year and what won't. I wanted to continue my educational pursuits, but I don't want to jeopardize them with M's medical needs, nor neglect M's medical needs. The best option was to pursue an online RN-BSN program for the next year. I'm not about to consider a for-profit school; I'll save my diatribe about such programs for when someone directly asks my opinion. I needed a reputable option from a non-profit College or University. I would prefer a public option, as I don't like the costs of private school tuition when I know I have graduate school beyond this to accomplish. I had several options. They do exist. Most of the state schools which offer online bridge programs have clinical requirements that you must arrange locally yourself. With the children and their specialists, I expect I can accomplish clinicals without significant difficulties. I will work the connections I have in the medical community for preceptorships. However, about half of the options I could identify require you have taken a Statistcs class before admissions. Well, that may be fine and danddy for the standard nursing student who happily takes statistics to avoid College Calculus. However, I already have Calculus. When I went back for the Sociology degree, my college entrance test scores were "expired" by the school and I was required to take College Algebra to meet the math requirements. I didn't take a Statistics course. I did take multiple semesters of Sociology Research Methods, which is more advanced research and stastistical work than a Statistics class is. However, generally you have to appeal to get it to meet the Stats requirement in most programs. The one I applied to openly stated they accept any Social Science Research Methods in lieu of Statistics, so I felt it would be easier than having to go take statistics. Saturday, I recieved a letter from the program I applied to stating that I was rejected due to inadequate academic requirements. I had no idea what they meant by that and was completely confused since by their published admissions criteria I more than adequately met their standards. Yesterday, I called them for clarification. It wasn't the statistics class at all. It was the Microbiology class I feared didn't show up on the transcript as it should have. Nope, they required a "C+" in all nursing coursework and a cummulative GPA of 2.8. Way back when, I did earn two Cs in Nursing courses. I was burned out and ready to give up. In my last two semesters, I missed the B that should have been easy by less than two points. I distinctly argued my last semester since my grade was less than a point from the B, merely that the professor round up and not down. I lost the argument. However, my school did not grade on a +/-system. I cannot prove those two grades were "C+" when that grade did not exist at my school. Then, because those two classes were nine hour classes, those two Cs tanked my GPA. I graduated with a 2.71. I wasn't proud of that GPA but back then I truly had quit caring. Yes, well, I went back and I corrected that issue. When I graduated with my Bachelor's in December, my cummulative was 3.41. I made Dean's List twice in my return, missed it the summer because it wasn't awarded and in the other two semesters because of ONE B each semester. I was inducted into the Criminal Justice and Sociology Honors Societies. Clearly, the sum of my academic abilities today is far better gleaned from my current GPA and not the one I graduated nursing school with so long ago. I don't even understand WHY they were taking my graduating GPA since their criteria stated cummulative GPA. So, the admissions coordinator told me if I could track down my actual number grade in those two nursing classes, as well as the grading scale for those classes--to prove it wasn't an +/- system. If I could prove that my Cs would have been C+, then they would discuss whether they would accept my current GPA instead of the one I graduated nursing school with. This morning, I got another phone call. The admissions coordinator took my file to the Director of Nursing this morning. The Director of Nursing says she doesn't care whether I pulled Cs or C+s in those classes. She says my academic performance in the last two years more than sufficiently shows what I am capable of at this point, including their program. I am unofficially admitted into the program. It is unofficial because I accidentally forgot to sent the transcript of the Astronomy class I took as a transient student last fall, and to officially admit me they need transcripts of ALL of my former college work. As soon as they recieve that transcript, then I will be officially accepted. It goes without saying that I already submitted for that transcript to be sent. Hopefully they will recieve it next week and I might have my official acceptance letter by next weekend. I am going back to school. This time I will lock in my BSN, while deciding what I'm going to do for graduate school. It's a strong, solid step in my career and education regardless of what path I take afterward. It is also flexible enough that I can accomplish it while still being available for M and his siblings through the season we are in now.