Losing It

I lost it for the first time at the hospital this weekend. I am usually very in control of my feelings and emotions when I'm there. It wouldn't do to be crying away with all of the staff in and out of the room. Saturday, however, I think I was really struggling. I was tired, I missed my mom. I was holding my 3 1/2 month old baby boy up for her to see and she just stared at him like he wasn't there. I lost it. I looked back at my husband and the tears were just running down my cheeks. I don't have perfect composure. Just because I can compartmentalize my feelings so much of the time does not mean I'm not affected by the sorrow. It gets to me in little ways just like it gets to all of us.

So Tired

Last week the kids and I went to Florida to visit with my Nana. I think I was secretly hoping that it would somehow be this magical retreat away from everything at home and I'd come home refreshed and renewed. It wasn't like that of course. I really don't think I was very well prepared for the emotional assault that I would experience from being in a place where I've spent so many hours with my mom. In fact, the last time I was down there it was with my mom and the girls. Grief, anguish, sorrow, longing...I think I'm realizing that I am going to have to deal with these things in each and every place that had significance to my mom. It's a long and painful process that can only be halted by her recovery of will and consciencness.

Now I am home and the emotional exhaustion coupled with the physical exhaustion ( I haven't been getting much sleep lately) has left me wiped. It's not a good state to be in because it makes everything harder from being patient with my children to fixing dinner to having the energy to sit and talk with my husband in the evening. I was talking with someone today and musing how most people dealing with issues of parental health have grown or at least older children. I have all the challenges of a young family coupled with the responsibilities of helping my parents and it's a very full load.

One thing was a bit of a releif today. I visited my mom with the kids (and the help of a friend) and she has been moved to the bed by the window. Her roommate passed away on Tuesday and we asked that my mom be moved near the window. Now that she's there we have more space, more light and thus less frustration. Even if a new person is moved to Mom's old bed we'll still be in the position with more room and light. It's a nice change.

A lesson from smileys

Today when we were at the doctor's office for my nearly two-year-old's  checkup (her birthday is tomorrow), my 3 1/2 year old saw the above pain scale up on the bulletin board. After studying it for a minute she said, "Mommy, that smiley face is crying." I smiled at her little technical blunder...Actually it's a sad face, not a smiley face. But then I thought about it, a crying smiley face. Isn't that a pretty good representation of me right now? I may smile on the outside, but inside I'm still crying. It's probably an accurate description for many of us. We need to remember that behind the smiles often lies a lot of pain, hurt and sorrow and we shouldn't assume just because people appear happy that they really are. Appearances are often deceiving. What an interesting thought brought about by a child's understanding.

A Touch of Whimsy

Just so everyone reading this doesn't think I go around thinking morbid, depressing thoughts all the time...

Some of you are Harry Potter fans and some of you are not. If you have never read Harry Potter you'll just have to ignore this post or read in ignorance...either that or go out and read the books. Chris and I have read every book and seen all the movies. I read the first book as a teen one summer out loud with my mom and brother (I loved reading Hagrid's part with his accent!) and I read the last book the day after it came out (my husband got to read it first since I was out of town until late that night). One thing I have always contemplated and it came to mind again when I watched the latest movie again the other night, it the nature of the patronus. I've always wondered if I lived in the mythical world of Harry Potter, what animal would my patronus be? It seems like a patronus must represent something about the person to whom it belongs. I used to think maybe mine would be a sheep...loving, dumb, cute, fuzzy etc, but it never seemed quite right. I'm not really sure what mine would have been. 

With everything that's happened though, I think it's quite possible that mine might have changed. If those of you Potter aficionados remember from Book Six and Tonks, Patronuses can change when there is trauma involved (and I think I've had plenty of trauma). The funny thing is that with all the emphasis I have in my life on overcoming tragedy it suddenly struck me that a likely candidate, especially if you look at the title of this blog, (Ashes), would be the Phoenix. But that couldn't be right because that's Dumbledore's patronus and I'm definitely not on par with Dunbledore! Unless you can have different types of people with the same patronus...Hmmm, guess I'll have to keep thinking. I'd love to hear what other people think on this whimsical subject.

Valentine's Day

I won't lie, today was a hard day. But I also know that I wasn't the only person it was hard for. I know of three funerals going on today, ironic since 14 years ago I spent this day at a funeral myself, for my grandmother. I know that there are many hurting people out there, people who are sad, lonely, feeling empty. Valentine's day can be a very happy day, but it can also be incredibly sad for those of us who are hurting, alone, or full of sorrow.

This is the "love" holiday, but I find it rather pathetic that this holiday revolves around gifts, chocolate, jewelry, flowers and romantic candlelit dinners. It's not that any of those things are bad - I like chocolate and flowers as much as the next girl - it's just that they don't really demonstrate love. I sat holding my infant son today watching my dad sit by my mom in her hospital room, hand on her shoulder, just being there with her even though she showed no recognition or response to him. He goes there to be with her day after day even though things are bleak as can be. THAT is real love. My husband spent a month out of work after the accident helping care for our two girls, taking care menial tasks, running errands, doing grocery shopping, running communications for our family and comforting/supporting his shell-shocked, grieving and very pregnant and hormonal wife. That is real love. I have a few very close friends who have listened to me ramble, let me rant and rage, offered strong shoulders for my tears, sat with me in the hospital, written encouragement without judgment in response to this blog and called when they knew I needed to talk. That is real love. I have church body of brothers and sisters who have prayed for me and my family, visited my mother, made us meals, watched my children, cleaned my house, bought us a washer and dryer, respected our rules for privacy, written us notes of encouragement and come along side us with open arms. That is real love. I also have a saviour who made himself human so he could share in our human sufferings and temptations, who allowed himself to be scorned, mocked and rejected, who experienced unimaginable agony and pain to die for our sins, our faults, our human cruelty, and who loves us and forgives us even when we are at our worst. That is real love.

The other stuff...it's the trappings of Hollywood romance. This stuff, it's the real deal.

Change how you think

Who would have thought that a baby's smile could reduce me tears? The truth is that it is that very thing that keeps happening. I keep thinking that I'm doing okay, but then my 10 week old baby boy smiles at me and it hits me, most obvious when he smiles he looks exactly like me as a baby. And when that renewed realization comes the stabbing pain through my heart, that my mom will never know she has a beautiful grandson who looks just like me.

I know that there are probably people reading this that are thinking, "But your mom isn't dead! She could wake up and be fine and quickly catch up on everything she missed. God can work miracles you know." All I can say is, stop. STOP!!!!!!!!!! I mean it! I know all you people mean well and I know God can work miracles but the facts are that my mom will probably never be herself again and God probably will not choose to do that particular miracle. Do continue to pray, do continue to offer support, but please, stop spouting off trite phrases at me and my family. It is NOT OKAY!!!! It's most likely not ever going to be okay this side of heaven. My hope is in eternity and my belief that I will see my mom again, whole and herself again in heaven. But to cling to false hopes of her waking up on this earth...it just makes this whole process harder. We go through the grieving cycle over and over again; it never ends. It's not like the usual cycle of grief over a loss. Our loss is a daily battle and every time we get to the end of it, it starts over. Giving us false hope only makes these cycles worse, so please, please, adjust your perspective to where the hope for my mom really lies. Her body may be broken, but her soul is eternal.

A Long Week

I haven't fallen off the edge of the earth...at least not physically. This week has been about physical and emotional endurance. With my dad out of the country for the first time since the accident I've been heading to the hospital every day. With three small children it's nearly impossible without the help of friends. I've had help, but I'm still so tired I can barely type. The physical wear and tear of going to and from the hospital as well as falling behind on regular duties is tough. I feel torn between my mom and my kids. Today was the worst...needing to get back to the girls, Mom coughing and grimacing in pain, Luke fussing and needing me to walk him, but I don't want to leave Mom...it's brutal. Then there was the frustration and anger. Why didn't more people visit my mom the past few days when I thought I'd made it clear to quite a few that Mom needed visitors this week?! I shouldn't be mad at others, should I? I feel like it's my own guilt at not being able to spend more time at the hospital looking for a vent. No more tonight, it's been too long a week. I need some rest.