Saturday Was Just the Beginning

The beginning of a slow trickle which began coursing into a great deluge of tears yesterday. It has been a couple of long busy weeks filled with appointments, PTO meetings and volunteering, church activities and gymnastics. I am tired both physically and emotionally and was yesterday which was the first of my two days home with all three children while they "enjoy" a school vacation. My anger and frustration hit a boiling point yesterday, whether from the children's wild and unruly behavior or from all of the emotions I have basically swallowed over the last eight months trying to make their way back to the surface, who knows. They violently erupted in the form of tiny droplets which just coursed from my eyes for some time.

I have been aware of a while now that I never got to fully grieve Eli's death. It wasn't much of an option. I am his mother but I am also mother to three young children, two of whom were in my full time care at the time of his death. Because he was born just a few months before summer vacation I soon became full time caretaker to three young children in addition to a "blink and you missed it" break in maintaining the household in the form of doing everyone's laundry, cleaning the house, cooking all the meals and doing the dishes plus the gardening and occasional lawn mowing. It was absolutely necessary for me to focus my energy on them at the time and so I did shortly after losing Eli, too shortly. I adapted and made it work. And until now it has worked quite well. This blog allows me a frequent opportunity to share and grieve and has been a valuable coping mechanism.

Until grief slammed into me with the force of a tidal wave. I miss my little boy and all of the things he would be doing right now. I miss seeing his sisters playing with him and helping me tend to his needs. I cringe at their questions about whether "the next baby" will die or their proclamations that it should be a girl so it doesn't die.

Yet today, I feel better. Oddly enough since I was expecting that feeling on Wednesday morning after I made a long overdue Catholic confession (confession isn't what it used to be). I feel better but wary. Wary of that next wave and when it may hit but hopeful that by then I will be stronger and weather it more gracefully.

Unexpected

Our church remembers those who have died and their families in a mass each year. That mass was held this past Saturday. I attended along with all three girls and my in-laws (who, incidentally are not Catholic and neither is my husband but he chose to stay home). The names of all those gone were read out loud one by one and families went up to the front where four rows of candles stood and one by one those candles were lit. Names were read by date of death so I had an idea when Eli's name would be read. Even though I knew when his name was coming I was completely unprepared for the flood of tears which gathered in my eyes so quickly after hearing that name. I am lucky that I was able to see straight enough to light that candle and return to my seat. After all the names had been read, a song of remembrance was sung and it was then that the tears burst forth. Of course we were sitting in the front row and being unprepared for such an emotional reaction I did not have a tissue handy so I had to dig one of out my purse. I don't know what to think. Should I have anticipated those tears? Why didn't I? I have known about the mass and what would take place for at least a month and half yet it never once occurred to me...completely unexpected.

A Kleenex, A Kleenex, My Kingdom for a Kleenex

Okay, something quick and humorous today. Our youngest (she turned 3 in August) is what I refer to as a silent protester. Completely opposite of the oldest who is basically a fire-breather. The youngest has her moments of rebellion it's just that they often go unnoticed because she is so darned quiet about it. If you happen to be in her immediate physical presence you will often notice the pouty face appear which is quickly followed by her eyes pinched shut. She pinches them to expel the tears within much like squeezing a lemon. That child will pinch until every last drop is milked. The tear dropping is immediately followed by an urgent need for a tissue. Which, if granted, dries the tears and magically erases the silent rebellion in its entirety. Amazing. The cost of Kleenex is a small price to pay for a happy kingdom.

I wish it were so easy as a grownup. That I could pinch out a few tears here and there, dry them with a soft tissue and erase that feeling, whatever feeling caused those tears to form.

There's No Crying in Baseball

This post was to originally be titled "There's No Crying in Church" but...since I happened to run across a major league baseball team's manager and a few players this morning at the hospital, I couldn't help but to borrow a line from A League of Their Own.

I sat this church this weekend with my two oldest daughters and more than once teared up. (My husband is not religious and my youngest is not disciplined enough to behave in church so they keep each other company at home). There were no particular words that spoke to me, yet tears flowed anyway. In particular, my oldest spontaneously began singing the closing hymn very loudly and quite beautifully. She usually does not sing and it simply took my breath away. However, that put me in a position that I have been in many times. Sitting in a room full of people with tears in my eyes. Meanwhile, these people are unaware of my suffering and most probably do not notice. But it is uncomfortable nonetheless to be crying in public. Crying is such a private thing rarely exhibited in public. I hope this was an isolated event though I fear it was not. Many times during the end of my pregnancy with Wyatt I found myself at church with tears in my eyes. Those who noticed did not understand and of course, it only made me feel uncomfortable and weak. After Wyatt died those tears came easier and going to church became harder so I stopped. It is another stumbling block in my path and another something to figure out how to handle. I suppose I could picture everyone naked but that's not really appropriate for church so I'll have to give this a little more thought I guess.