Getting what you ask for

Over the past 11 months, I have become a master at both addressing and avoiding this thing called grief.  In the beginning Nate and I went to a great grief group called, Grief Share and we both really liked it and got so much out of it.  It really felt like we were dealing with our pain head on. Then summer came and we were just busy doing family things and being out enjoying the season that we stopped going to group.  We had every intention of starting back up in the fall when we returned to our routine.  Then fall came, Noah started swim club and it just so happened that practices were on Mondays, which was the night that we went to group.  I became great at being busy and being on the go... rushing from one activity to another... each night filled with something to do.  If it wasn't an activity for the kids, it was a tv show that I looked forward to.  Then this weekend happened.  It was our first weekend staying at home in... I don't even know how long.  Saturday was ok... we were busy cleaning in the morning, doing little things with Big love in the afternoon and bowling and supper with a dear friend Saturday night.  Then Sunday happened... we had NO plans. Nothing to do... and I couldn't avoid the hurt that is there.  I had nothing to take my mind off Declan's death... it was tough.  I found myself feeling wore out, bored, and I wasn't sure how to fill my time.  I realized today, I've become a master avoider of the pain I still carry with me.  I have my moments  - mostly in the car.  Get the right song on the radio and I am a bawling mess, but then I get to daycare, wipe my tears and get the kids and it's go go go the rest of the night.  I am not sure how I got to this point, but I know that a few months ago there were times when I would start to drift into thought about my loss and I would cut myself off from thinking about it, saying I don't want to go there... I think it's easy to do... pushing those feelings down and being so busy that there is no time to process and heal.  I have allowed myself to take the easy road and am getting exactly what I've asked for... keeping the pain at bay and feeling as happy as I can, yet avoiding true healing and acceptance... but, I am not sure how to fix what I have created... except now that I have identified my avoiding behavior, all I can do it work on changing it... asking God to help me face my grief head on...

Looking ahead...

The days are drawing near to our one year anniversary of the passing of our sweet boy. I struggle with it... I am in disbelief.  I lack the words to express how I feel.  I have always been able to put into words the emotions I carry in my heart, but not today... not lately.  Besides being able to identify my extreme feelings of discontent.... I don't know what these feelings are that I am experiencing.  A mix of anger, longing, self-pity... the list could on, but as I try to make sense of the ickiness I feel every day I have come to a cross roads.  We are at the one year anniversary, but what does that mean?! What does that matter?! He is still gone... I am no more or no less the grieving parent I was 6 months ago... or that I imagine I will be 6 months from now.   Does coming up to the one year passing define anything, change anything, make me stronger or weaker or make it any less real or more true?! No.  He's gone.  My son died.... February 14th, 2013 doesn't change that.  My pain is still here, my heart is still broken, and I still go on figuring out how to survive.   Yet, I know the day will be impactful.  It is a "special" day (for lack of a better word).  I am looking ahead with much anxiety and sadness to this anniversary and looking back on the journey I have been forced to live every day.  I have handled and dealt with the loss of my child and I have become a better person, a better mother, a better wife and a better friend because of this road I have traveled... and I am not sure  how that makes me feel.

Living with longing...

More and more I am feeling... for lack of a better word - icky... I want something more, but I can't quiet put it into words.  I know I want this journey to be over... I want someone to tell me it was a bad joke and it is finally coming to an end.  I want more than I have right now... I know there are all those inspirational signs out there saying things like "the secret to being happy is not having what you want, but wanting what you have" and something about 'accepting what you have...' and I know it.  I get it.  I wonder though, did the person who say that experience a child dying?  Did the people who say those things ever watch their child die? Probably not.  Great advice is so easy to give, following it is another story.  I don't know if its because I am coming up to the one year anniversary of his passing that I am feeling so out of sorts or what, but it's really hard for me to be ok with the situation I have been put in.  I want someone else to carry this heavy burden... but I really don't want this to happen to someone else, I just wish it hadn't happen to me.  I don't want to be the mom whose baby died.... I want my family complete again.   How do you live wanting something you know you will never have again? How?! How do I move past that feeling?  How do I move from wanting, longing, and aching for your son to accepting what I have been given? I am still trying to figure that out...

Wrapping up the worst year ever

Over the holiday season, we got a few Christmas letters from some dear friends and family members... talking about how their year went and all the wonderful things that happened to them.  I thought about what our letter would say if we created one.  How would we talk about the worst year of our lives?  What words could be said that would do 2012 justice?  I feel like a good ol' "F*** YOU" would be the easiest way to sum up my feelings.  However, then I think about the year... the first 6 weeks of 2012 were truly wonderful.  Every day was filled with laughter, smiles, love and happiness.  As a family, we got along better than we ever had.  The kids loved having Declan in our family.  Both Noah and Courty were great siblings to him... and were SUCH big helpers for me.  For 6 weeks we were the family I had envisioned growing up... I had my hearts desire, life was good.   Then that day happened to us....the day our lives changed FOREVER! The day life slapped me in the face, sucked all the breath out of me and ripped out my heart.  The day my family was torn apart and my kids learned about death and the unfairness of life the hard way.  The day Declan died.  The day our son's heart stopped beating in our arms.   February 14th, 2012....  I feel like saying, "what else matters?!" Life at our house stopped that day... every day since then has been about survival... it has been about overcoming fear, anger, extreme sadness and disappointment.  It has been about making a decision to let his death sink us or make us stronger.  It has been about discovery and healing, it has been about finding ways to make his memory live on and making an impact on this world that is as meaningful as he is.   Every day has been about accepting our fate and what has happened to us... it has been about piecing together Noah and Courtlynn's hearts and letting them know that we still love them and that we are going to be ok.  It has been about coming to terms with our situation... about leaning on each other in ways we had never done before.  SO... yes, 2012 sucked. 2012 hurt terribly.  2012 will never be forgotten... but overtime, what I hope I remember are the 6 weeks Declan was here with us and the incredible way Nathan, Noah, Courlynn and myself pulled together to get through this... Thanks to those three, I can say confidently that I was able to laugh, I was able to smile and I was able to see my blessings amidst the rain even during the worst year of my life. 

It's tough to be happy when your child has died... but day by day, we are coming to a place were we are starting to find a new happiness.  The only new years resolution I will be making for 2013 is to make the most of what I have, give thanks and praise for Declan daily and to move in a direction that sustains his memory and strengthens the bond my family has.  

Happy New Year to all... may God's blessing pour out on you. 

Reflecting on Christmas

Christmas has come and it has passed... I was curious to see how the holidays would shape up for us.  I had lots of anxiety about seeing the kids open their gifts, knowing we should have a squealing little toddler trying to steal everyone else's presents and who enjoyed playing with the wrapping paper more than the toy itself.  I think overall we did ok.  Christmas Eve was hard for me... the music at church brought me to tears at every song and when I got home I took a moment to have a good cry in our room, but then it was back to the hustle and bustle of getting ready for supper and getting the kids settled down enough to enjoy the moment.  I found myself to be extremely sleepy over most of the holiday. I think that was stress and emotions weighing heavy on my shoulders.   I don't know what I expected, but sometimes I am overwhelmed at how I think people don't want to make me sad (or themselves sad) so they don't bring up Declan... I think that is one of the worst ways to deal with grief... I want someone, other than myself, to bring him up, to let me know that they too are missing him over this holiday season.  I don't know what I would want someone to say... I am not sure how people should act, but I anticipated an acknowledgment of our first Christmas without our son and we didn't really get that... or maybe we did in the form of extra hugs, arm squeezes, and longer gazes, but hardly anyone said his name... in fact maybe only one, my brother.  I understand it is hard and I am not upset or trying to call anyone out, it's just more an observation I made and am sharing.   I guess overall, Nate was my rock,  the two of us spoke about  him, cried about his passing and visited his grave... the two of us together dealt with the pain and the sorrow the only way we have learned to - by leaning on each other and helping each other when the other one is struggling... how lucky I am to have someone to travel this journey with... a person who 'gets' it at my side... As I sit here, looking at the Christmas tree, knowing the season is almost over, I can't help but think about what Christmas really means... the gift of a baby, meant to save the world by giving up His life for us... to ensure that I will get to see Declan again.  I have much to be thankful for... and I can take comfort in knowing that GOD himself, knows what it is like to lose a child.

The places grief takes you

After Declan passed away, I wanted to be surrounded in my grief... I wanted the hurt because it meant that I was still alive and that he had been real.  I wanted to 'feel' what I could of him and for those few months after his passing, all I had of him was grief, it was the most tangible thing I could find.  So I held on tightly.  I remember saying, I don't ever want to feel better, I want to feel this sadness in my heart forever.  Not because I enjoyed feeling broken hearted, but because I was afraid if I didn't, it would mean that I had forgotten or that I had "moved on"... the last thing I ever wanted was to move on, like the life and passing of my son was some sort of terrible thing I should forget.  As I have taken the steps of this journey, I have come to a new place... a place I don't really like and am working on moving through... now it feels almost like the opposite of before, when I start to think about Declan, really think about him.... envision his birth, his smile, his voice, his laugh... really move to a place where he is all I am thinking about,  I can be happy and thankful for his life, but only for a few moments before a deep deep sadness take my heart over....and then I say to myself, "I can't think about that right now"... because I don't have the energy or the desire to be consumed with grief.  I'm in a place where my reality is starting to sink it... it's starting to become real and I am understanding he isn't coming back... which I knew in my head along, but my heart couldn't go there.  It's slowly catching on and the pain from that is 'harder' than in the beginning.  The pain now can be crippling... it can also just be silent tears flowing... I just never know which direction my grief will choose to take.  I think in those few months after Dex's passing, I needed to be a crying mess... I needed to take those moments, with my eyes shutting out the world, to just be sad and to have what I called "Declan" time... I don't feel like I need my 'Declan' time to look like that anymore.  On occasion I am perfectly content with shutting out the world and running wild in my dreams with my sweet son, but I don't have to anymore... my body doesn't require it of me.  I am at least at a point where he can be in my thoughts and I am not breaking down... where he can come up in conversation and I can get through it with only a minor lip tremble, where he fleets in and out of my mind, like a game of hide and seek, and I can smile at his memory.  I am presuming, as my grief continues to take me down this journey, I will come to a place where I can allow myself to think deeply about Declan without crippling pain... a place and time where I can sit and watch my memories playing like a movie in my head and instead of being overwhelmed with sadness, enjoy the moment.

When hate happens

Friday’s tragic events obviously have been unimaginable… many, many people are sad and unable to understand how someone could do this, including me.  I am sad. My heart is breaking for the 20 empty beds that those parents now have in their home.  My heart is weeping at the Christmas trees full of presents for children whose squeals of delight will not be heard.   I know everyone is ‘imagining’ how terrible it is to lose a child… we know.  Nate and I do not have to imagine how those parents feel.  We can relate to their pain, to their immense suffering…. I’m sure funeral plans are being made and we can personally tell you that planning your child’s funeral sucks.  I truly believe that once you have experienced your own loss, you grieve harder and you relive your own loss every time you hear of something similar.  Of course, it doesn’t help that this is the holidays and we are suffering through our own sadness and still healing from losing Declan…  but I can’t imagine it changing.   

Friday, to begin with started off terrible, to start with it was the 14^th… the 10-month anniversary of our own loss…. I have struggled with that date of the month for 10 months.  Around 9 am, I found out my former band teacher, music director and someone I looked up to was killed in a car accident… then the awful news of the school shootings… Nate and I laid in bed on Friday night and talked about how terrible the day was from the beginning to the end.  Sadness surrounded us.

As I have digested the events at SHES, the teacher in me can’t help but think of what it was like to be there as an adult…  how hearing those shots surely sent them into a mode they didn’t believe they would ever be in – PRORECTION mode.  I can only imagine the very first thought was ‘oh my God… this is real’ and from there, ‘how can I protect these children?’  I think back to my days in the classroom and you know, I didn’t like every one of my students and there were a few I couldn’t stand, but I know I would have protected everyone of them with my own life.   I have heard the stories of heroism from the teachers and I am proud, but not one bit surprised.  As Noah and I talked about the terrible events, I confidently told him that his teacher would protect him and the other children with her life.  I just know she would.  When you become a teacher you are so much more than just a teacher…. You are a substitute mom (or dad)… you are a nurse…. You are a leader and role model… you are a friend… you are a protector of those little ones in your care.  It’s a big job.   

My heart goes out to the teachers who lost their friends on Friday.... my heart aches for the police and rescue people who had to witness such a terrible act and see such hate...my heart weeps for the students whose friends died and who will suffer with this for a very long time and I think it goes without saying that my heart hurts for the parents who lost their babies and to the kiddos who lost their brother/sister...  Friday, the devil reared his ugly head.  Today and always is the time to trust in God... to allow him to help us through our pain and our disbelief... it's time to remember that HE will hold us up in his victorious right hand.