I am sure that one day I will look back at 2011 and recognize countless life lessons that this year has taught me.
For now, all I have to say to 2011 is: "Fuck you"
I am looking forward to 2012 being a kinder and gentler year.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Crazy aunt Kathy*
Every family has a member that is a little 'out there'. Some families have more than one.
Somewhere in my extended family tree lives crazy aunt Kathy. She is a little eccentric, a little out of touch with reality, and very damaged. You can see it in her eyes and hear it in the way she talks about herself. Sometimes i feel like she has so much pain inside of her that it affects her ability to function as a rational person.
Crazy aunt Kathy lost her mom some years ago. I am not sure how long ago her mom passed away, but I know it has been more than 10 years. She will be the first to admit that the loss of her mom still affects her deeply every day. Though I never had the privilege of meeting her mom (who I hear was amazing) every Christmas gift I have received from her has involved a picture or other memory of her mom. Kathy's mom's memory consumes seemingly every facet of Kathy's life - to the point of disability.
Often times in the past two months I have felt so overwhelmed by grief that I too found it disabling. During those times, I always wonder if it is truly possible to feel better. Even just by the tiniest bit. I have cried myself to sleep countless nights (though 71 would be a good guess) and searched for the light at the end of the tunnel. In the back of my mind I always think of Kathy, and how I don't want to become her. I want to grieve, but not wallow. I want to cherish and remember Carter, but not become so consumed with his memory that I can't function.
Friends (both old and new) reassure me that one day the pain won't be so overwhelming. It will always be there but not as raw as it is now. One morning I will wake up and realize that I haven't just had a good day, but a good week or month. I have to endure the heartache now so that I can live my life later. Enough people have told me this that in my head I know it must be true, but I have questioned it in my heart.
Today though, was refreshing. I got up, got us ready and out the door on time. Our first stop was the doctor (where my INR was less than ideal) then off to daycare and work. At work, I had a productive day and even managed to mention that Carter had passed. All without tears - not even a moment where I had to fight them back.
When I sat down to write tonight, I was going to write about my tear-free day. And then this evening while talking to a friend, she asked about how Christmas went. And she talked about Carter. Cue the tears. But when they stopped, I didn't feel quite the sense of despair that I usually do. The evening went on, and I was still able to function.
I have no disillusions that this is the end of the period of horrible grief. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. But I feel like I got a glimpse into 'someday'. Someday when there are more good days than bad. I almost feel like I should feel guilty for having a good day. But I don't - I know that Livie and Shawn need me to have good days. And to be honest, it was kind of a relief for me. One day when I didn't feel like I was going crazy.
*I changed her name to make me feel less guilty about writing about her.
Somewhere in my extended family tree lives crazy aunt Kathy. She is a little eccentric, a little out of touch with reality, and very damaged. You can see it in her eyes and hear it in the way she talks about herself. Sometimes i feel like she has so much pain inside of her that it affects her ability to function as a rational person.
Crazy aunt Kathy lost her mom some years ago. I am not sure how long ago her mom passed away, but I know it has been more than 10 years. She will be the first to admit that the loss of her mom still affects her deeply every day. Though I never had the privilege of meeting her mom (who I hear was amazing) every Christmas gift I have received from her has involved a picture or other memory of her mom. Kathy's mom's memory consumes seemingly every facet of Kathy's life - to the point of disability.
Often times in the past two months I have felt so overwhelmed by grief that I too found it disabling. During those times, I always wonder if it is truly possible to feel better. Even just by the tiniest bit. I have cried myself to sleep countless nights (though 71 would be a good guess) and searched for the light at the end of the tunnel. In the back of my mind I always think of Kathy, and how I don't want to become her. I want to grieve, but not wallow. I want to cherish and remember Carter, but not become so consumed with his memory that I can't function.
Friends (both old and new) reassure me that one day the pain won't be so overwhelming. It will always be there but not as raw as it is now. One morning I will wake up and realize that I haven't just had a good day, but a good week or month. I have to endure the heartache now so that I can live my life later. Enough people have told me this that in my head I know it must be true, but I have questioned it in my heart.
Today though, was refreshing. I got up, got us ready and out the door on time. Our first stop was the doctor (where my INR was less than ideal) then off to daycare and work. At work, I had a productive day and even managed to mention that Carter had passed. All without tears - not even a moment where I had to fight them back.
When I sat down to write tonight, I was going to write about my tear-free day. And then this evening while talking to a friend, she asked about how Christmas went. And she talked about Carter. Cue the tears. But when they stopped, I didn't feel quite the sense of despair that I usually do. The evening went on, and I was still able to function.
I have no disillusions that this is the end of the period of horrible grief. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. But I feel like I got a glimpse into 'someday'. Someday when there are more good days than bad. I almost feel like I should feel guilty for having a good day. But I don't - I know that Livie and Shawn need me to have good days. And to be honest, it was kind of a relief for me. One day when I didn't feel like I was going crazy.
*I changed her name to make me feel less guilty about writing about her.
If you're going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill
Monday, December 26, 2011
The day after
My Dearest Carter,
Merry Christmas! I hope that your first Christmas in Heaven was as grand as could be. We have been missing you here - our Christmas this year was not the one we had been planning and dreaming of.
Livie and I spent many evenings this month trying to get Christmas shopping done. I thought about you the whole time - Christmas shopping this year was supposed to be our date together. We were going to spend our maternity leave out and about - enjoying the sights and sounds of the season. Instead, Liv and I rushed through stores as quickly as I could coax her in and out of them.
On one of our trips, we bought a toy that we thought you would have liked. The plan was to donate it to a little boy that didn't have any presents for Christmas. On the morning that we were going to drop it off, your sister cried and cried. She didn't want to give up the toy that she had picked out for you. After lots of explaining and lots of tears, Liv eventually agreed to leave it at the toy drop-off at daycare. She checked on it daily until the toys were taken away.
I wish that you could have gone with us to see Santa this year. Livie wore a different dress than I had originally planned on. I had an outfit for you that I picked out to go with her Christmas dress - you two would have been so cute in matching outfits on Santa's lap. I just couldn't send her in her outfit without you in yours, so she wore a friend's Christmas dress instead.
She was SO excited to see Santa this year - she genuinely believes that he works magic. Livie greeted Santa with a huge hug and a smile that lit up the room. He asked her what she wanted for Christmas, and in a shy, quiet voice she answered, "a healthy baby". Santa looked confused, and I was too far away to explain. He tried to clarify - "you want a baby doll?". Livie's face fell a bit and she nodded in agreement. Yes, a baby doll would be fine. She added on a request for some play food and was soon ushered off of Santa's lap so the next child could have a turn.
I am not sure who all heard her original request. But those words - "a healthy baby" - hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity to me. She misses you as much as we do. Perhaps that is why your cake is still hanging around on our counter. It has some battles wounds, but is hanging in there.
Keeping up with tradition, we decorated a gingerbread house (to feed to Santa's reindeer of course). I had pictured you snuggled up to me in a sling as we decorated this year. Our gingerbread house didn't turn out nearly as nice this year as it did last year.
I guess my heart just wasn't in it. Besides, it kept falling apart until we eventually gave up keeping it together. Thankfully, Clifford the Elf used some of his late-night-magical-hot-glue to fix it for us.
We went to church on Christmas Eve, and then to great grandma Pat's for dinner. But you know that. You were there.
On Christmas Eve, we set the gingerbread house out for the reindeer, and filled the living room with presents. Yours are still tucked safely away in the basement.
I stayed up late that night, looking at your ornaments on the Christmas tree, and wishing that you could be here to celebrate with us in the morning. Some of my favorite memories of Christmas 2008 are from being up in the middle night. Livie and I would snuggle in the living room with only the glow and twinkling of the Christmas tree for light. Those late night nursing sessions were so peaceful, I had been looking forward to the same with you. Instead, I just stared at the tree and cried. You are so missed.
Christmas morning was a success. After a quick snuggle with mom and dad, Liv raced to the living room to check out her gifts.
She was stopped in her tracks by the "marble game" that Santa brought her. Unfortunately, Santa had forgotten to check and make sure that the game actually came with marbles. Thank goodness for leftover Halloween candy (Gobstoppers to the rescue!)
As the day went on, Livie dug into her presents more and more - her favorites seem to be the marble game and scooter, both from Santa. She didn't notice that Santa didn't bring her a doll - guess that isn't what she wanted after all. She did however, notice that you weren't there. At one point she told me, "I love our family - mom, dad, me and Carter - that is who makes up our family! You can't forget Carter. He is part of our family!" (I think she was a bit miffed that you didn't have presents under the tree)
You did however, have a stocking. Livie informed me awhile ago that it was her job as sister, to check your stocking for you. I am glad she told me that, so I could make sure that your stocking was full.
She loves the monkey tooth brush that she found inside, and the monkey bookmark is growing on her. It is currently marking the spot in her Madeline book where she pressed a flower from your funeral.
Christmas Day after dinner, we had cupcakes and sang "Happy Birthday" to baby Jesus. Livie was quite excited for you that you got to attend His 'real' birthday party. She is wondering if there was a piñata at the party?
Liv played hard all day yesterday with all of her new things. This morning though, I found her playing with all of your things. From the moment she realized that you were coming, she would insist on visiting the "baby aisle" of whatever store we happened to visit. Oftentimes, I would let her talk me into a new rattle or small toy for you. Each purchase was put into the baskets of toys tucked into the shelves of the entertainment center in the living room . The baskets are over flowing at this point. Your sister was meticulously going through each toy. Taking it out of the basket, looking it over and trying it out.
She was talking in a whisper so quiet I could barely hear her, but occasionally I would pick-up her narration as to how the toy works. "you push this button for music" - "this shakes when you bite on it". Was she talking to herself, or to you? When she was finished, she carefully picked up all of your toys and tucked them away again.
Before I go, I thought you might want to see all of your Christmas ornaments.
Livie saw this curious george monkey, and insisted it had to be yours:
I found this snowbabies angel ornament, to match the snowbabies ornament Liv got when she was born:
And finally, this ornament was a gift from 'Dinner Grandma':
We survived our first Christmas without you. I hope that yours was full of much more Joy than mine was.
Wish you were here,
Mom
Merry Christmas! I hope that your first Christmas in Heaven was as grand as could be. We have been missing you here - our Christmas this year was not the one we had been planning and dreaming of.
Livie and I spent many evenings this month trying to get Christmas shopping done. I thought about you the whole time - Christmas shopping this year was supposed to be our date together. We were going to spend our maternity leave out and about - enjoying the sights and sounds of the season. Instead, Liv and I rushed through stores as quickly as I could coax her in and out of them.
On one of our trips, we bought a toy that we thought you would have liked. The plan was to donate it to a little boy that didn't have any presents for Christmas. On the morning that we were going to drop it off, your sister cried and cried. She didn't want to give up the toy that she had picked out for you. After lots of explaining and lots of tears, Liv eventually agreed to leave it at the toy drop-off at daycare. She checked on it daily until the toys were taken away.
I wish that you could have gone with us to see Santa this year. Livie wore a different dress than I had originally planned on. I had an outfit for you that I picked out to go with her Christmas dress - you two would have been so cute in matching outfits on Santa's lap. I just couldn't send her in her outfit without you in yours, so she wore a friend's Christmas dress instead.
She was SO excited to see Santa this year - she genuinely believes that he works magic. Livie greeted Santa with a huge hug and a smile that lit up the room. He asked her what she wanted for Christmas, and in a shy, quiet voice she answered, "a healthy baby". Santa looked confused, and I was too far away to explain. He tried to clarify - "you want a baby doll?". Livie's face fell a bit and she nodded in agreement. Yes, a baby doll would be fine. She added on a request for some play food and was soon ushered off of Santa's lap so the next child could have a turn.
I am not sure who all heard her original request. But those words - "a healthy baby" - hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity to me. She misses you as much as we do. Perhaps that is why your cake is still hanging around on our counter. It has some battles wounds, but is hanging in there.
Keeping up with tradition, we decorated a gingerbread house (to feed to Santa's reindeer of course). I had pictured you snuggled up to me in a sling as we decorated this year. Our gingerbread house didn't turn out nearly as nice this year as it did last year.
I guess my heart just wasn't in it. Besides, it kept falling apart until we eventually gave up keeping it together. Thankfully, Clifford the Elf used some of his late-night-magical-hot-glue to fix it for us.
We went to church on Christmas Eve, and then to great grandma Pat's for dinner. But you know that. You were there.
On Christmas Eve, we set the gingerbread house out for the reindeer, and filled the living room with presents. Yours are still tucked safely away in the basement.
I stayed up late that night, looking at your ornaments on the Christmas tree, and wishing that you could be here to celebrate with us in the morning. Some of my favorite memories of Christmas 2008 are from being up in the middle night. Livie and I would snuggle in the living room with only the glow and twinkling of the Christmas tree for light. Those late night nursing sessions were so peaceful, I had been looking forward to the same with you. Instead, I just stared at the tree and cried. You are so missed.
Christmas morning was a success. After a quick snuggle with mom and dad, Liv raced to the living room to check out her gifts.
She was stopped in her tracks by the "marble game" that Santa brought her. Unfortunately, Santa had forgotten to check and make sure that the game actually came with marbles. Thank goodness for leftover Halloween candy (Gobstoppers to the rescue!)
As the day went on, Livie dug into her presents more and more - her favorites seem to be the marble game and scooter, both from Santa. She didn't notice that Santa didn't bring her a doll - guess that isn't what she wanted after all. She did however, notice that you weren't there. At one point she told me, "I love our family - mom, dad, me and Carter - that is who makes up our family! You can't forget Carter. He is part of our family!" (I think she was a bit miffed that you didn't have presents under the tree)
You did however, have a stocking. Livie informed me awhile ago that it was her job as sister, to check your stocking for you. I am glad she told me that, so I could make sure that your stocking was full.
She loves the monkey tooth brush that she found inside, and the monkey bookmark is growing on her. It is currently marking the spot in her Madeline book where she pressed a flower from your funeral.
Christmas Day after dinner, we had cupcakes and sang "Happy Birthday" to baby Jesus. Livie was quite excited for you that you got to attend His 'real' birthday party. She is wondering if there was a piñata at the party?
Liv played hard all day yesterday with all of her new things. This morning though, I found her playing with all of your things. From the moment she realized that you were coming, she would insist on visiting the "baby aisle" of whatever store we happened to visit. Oftentimes, I would let her talk me into a new rattle or small toy for you. Each purchase was put into the baskets of toys tucked into the shelves of the entertainment center in the living room . The baskets are over flowing at this point. Your sister was meticulously going through each toy. Taking it out of the basket, looking it over and trying it out.
She was talking in a whisper so quiet I could barely hear her, but occasionally I would pick-up her narration as to how the toy works. "you push this button for music" - "this shakes when you bite on it". Was she talking to herself, or to you? When she was finished, she carefully picked up all of your toys and tucked them away again.
Before I go, I thought you might want to see all of your Christmas ornaments.
Livie saw this curious george monkey, and insisted it had to be yours:
I found this snowbabies angel ornament, to match the snowbabies ornament Liv got when she was born:
And finally, this ornament was a gift from 'Dinner Grandma':
We survived our first Christmas without you. I hope that yours was full of much more Joy than mine was.
Wish you were here,
Mom
Thursday, December 22, 2011
It could always be worse
I had a rough day at work today. I seem to be in a stretch of bad days, which is making me extra sensitive to everything. There is no need to rehash the details, but I got my feelings hurt big time at work today. To the point that I spent 30 min. at lunch crying in my car. Normally I would have been able to brush it off, but not today.
I was feeling quite broken-hearted and sorry for myself on the way home from work. I am pretty sure that I cried all the way to daycare. I have been feeling sorry for myself a lot lately.
Then, I got to daycare and watched a teacher have a run in with a parent. The parent was throwing a fit. I have seen this parent 2 other times. Both of those times she was also throwing a fit. Today's issue? Her preschool-aged daughter who still wears diapers had a BM blow-out, soiling her clothes. The child did not have a change of clothes in her locker (which is required) so the teacher located a spare set and changed the girl. The mother walked in the door and started complaining before even hearing what happened - "Why is my daughter not wearing the clothes I sent her in?!?!? Where are her clothes?!?!?" (for the record, they were bagged and in the girl's locker). The teacher in the room at the time is new, so on our way out I grabbed another teacher to go back-up the new one. Rumor has it that the mom's fit lasted quite awhile.
I am not sure what is wrong in that mom's life, but she is angry at the world. I don't want to end up like her.
On the way home from daycare I started thinking that maybe my day wasn't so bad after all - at least I didn't get yelled at for doing the right thing. (would the mom have preferred that her daughter not be changed, or left to play naked?)
And then I got home, and my in-box confirmed that my day truly wasn't a bad day. Waiting for me was an update from a friend of a friend. I have been in touch with her since her husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor about 7 weeks ago. Surgery was 6 weeks ago and the tumor is already growing back. And quickly. All they can do now is radiation and chemotherapy to buy time.
Bad things happen, and it sucks. And we have had our share of bad things this year. But that update forced me to realize that things could always be worse. Six months out and Shawn is doing great. My pulmonary embolism was caught in time. I have an amazing little girl (who is snuggled next to me on the couch since I couldn't bear to send her to bed). We have a warm home and cupboards full of food (or at least they would be if I got my butt to the grocery store). Then there is Carter. I am thankful for the 36 weeks and 4 days that I had with him. Though I can't help but wish I had more time. It seems so unfair. But as we all know, life isn't fair.
A friend lost her firstborn son to a heart defect four and a half years ago. This blog post of hers really struck a chord with me - Why not me. I think it will be awhile before I can be at the same point of acceptance that she is. But it is something to work for. For now, I can accept that I do have things to be thankful for and that it could always be worse.
And with that, I am putting on my brave face and heading into the holiday weekend. Clifford the Elf has done a fine job of keeping up Liv's holiday cheer, but he moves back to Santa on Saturday, so Sunday is all on us.
I was feeling quite broken-hearted and sorry for myself on the way home from work. I am pretty sure that I cried all the way to daycare. I have been feeling sorry for myself a lot lately.
Then, I got to daycare and watched a teacher have a run in with a parent. The parent was throwing a fit. I have seen this parent 2 other times. Both of those times she was also throwing a fit. Today's issue? Her preschool-aged daughter who still wears diapers had a BM blow-out, soiling her clothes. The child did not have a change of clothes in her locker (which is required) so the teacher located a spare set and changed the girl. The mother walked in the door and started complaining before even hearing what happened - "Why is my daughter not wearing the clothes I sent her in?!?!? Where are her clothes?!?!?" (for the record, they were bagged and in the girl's locker). The teacher in the room at the time is new, so on our way out I grabbed another teacher to go back-up the new one. Rumor has it that the mom's fit lasted quite awhile.
I am not sure what is wrong in that mom's life, but she is angry at the world. I don't want to end up like her.
On the way home from daycare I started thinking that maybe my day wasn't so bad after all - at least I didn't get yelled at for doing the right thing. (would the mom have preferred that her daughter not be changed, or left to play naked?)
And then I got home, and my in-box confirmed that my day truly wasn't a bad day. Waiting for me was an update from a friend of a friend. I have been in touch with her since her husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor about 7 weeks ago. Surgery was 6 weeks ago and the tumor is already growing back. And quickly. All they can do now is radiation and chemotherapy to buy time.
Bad things happen, and it sucks. And we have had our share of bad things this year. But that update forced me to realize that things could always be worse. Six months out and Shawn is doing great. My pulmonary embolism was caught in time. I have an amazing little girl (who is snuggled next to me on the couch since I couldn't bear to send her to bed). We have a warm home and cupboards full of food (or at least they would be if I got my butt to the grocery store). Then there is Carter. I am thankful for the 36 weeks and 4 days that I had with him. Though I can't help but wish I had more time. It seems so unfair. But as we all know, life isn't fair.
A friend lost her firstborn son to a heart defect four and a half years ago. This blog post of hers really struck a chord with me - Why not me. I think it will be awhile before I can be at the same point of acceptance that she is. But it is something to work for. For now, I can accept that I do have things to be thankful for and that it could always be worse.
And with that, I am putting on my brave face and heading into the holiday weekend. Clifford the Elf has done a fine job of keeping up Liv's holiday cheer, but he moves back to Santa on Saturday, so Sunday is all on us.
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