I Couldn't Outrun the Holiday Blues

We just returned from our first big family vacation - EVER.  The most we've ever done is visit family.  This year we took our own family to visit magical places.  The whole process was time consuming.  Packing for four kids, one still in diapers, and myself for two different locales with specific clothing and footwear needs was tricky.  Plus, we spent two whole days getting to and from our destination which is also tricky with four young children, one still in diapers.

So where did we go?  Disney World Magic Kingdom, the beach and Sea World.  It was an amazing vacation filled with unforgettable memories and, at times, overwhelming sadness.  My boys were never far from memory.  Our vacation timing, right over Christmas, was not a coincidence.  Christmas has always been special to my husband and I since we married just before Christmas twelve years ago.  We spent part of our honeymoon at Disney World and the beach.  I have long wanted to share that trip with my children.  

But there was a hidden agenda to the trip and the timing.  Part of it was the above and part was just escaping what has some years become sheer madness at the holidays with family, presents, lists, cooking, etc.  I needed a year off, some breathing space.  Some space to grieve too.  One of our favorite things to do at Christmastime is to visit our sons' graves on Christmas Eve to deliver their presents and see their sweet little Christmas tree lit up in the snow.  With all of the other goings on the time left for that special trip has become less and less and things just weren't on the right track.  

So we packed up and went to Florida, just us and our four little ones.  I bought Wyatt and Eli Mickey Mouse ears with their names embroidered on the back and barely managed to avoid the awkward conversation about who Wyatt & Eli were with the store clerk.  I have a pair of ears myself from my first trip to Disneyland and a Minnie pair from my first trip to Disney World and we purchased each of the girls their own so it was very important for me to get the boys their ears since this would have been their first trip too.  I wrote their names in the sand at the beach and at Sea World we got them a Shamu and dolphin for their graves this Christmas.  

Those aren't the moments that got me though.  Grief was complicated.  I almost lost it on the airplane with my extremely fussy 20 month old exhausted and sleeping on my lap.  When Cinderella's castle was lit with hundreds and maybe thousands of Christmas lights so it sparkled from bottom to top my eyes sparkled too.  

I learned yet another lesson.  It doesn't matter where I am, how happy or distracted, how sad or uncomfortable, how busy or how stressed, the holidays will always have the same effect on me and my boys will always be extra close to my heart in those days.  

Santa, you can commit this wish to memory because it will NEVER change:  all I want for Christmas is my whole family to be together.  My second oldest told me out of the blue that she wished Santa would bring something for Wyatt and Eli.  She remembered this wish when we arrived home late Christmas evening and she looked at the two empty stockings.  If only.

Extraordinariness Oversimplified

I am moved this morning to remember Nelson Mandela and his undying legacy.  Mr. Mandela's time on earth has passed but time will not pass him by.  Mr. Mandela's words, actions and legacy will live on in eternity.  He was an extraordinary man who accomplished extraordinary things in the most understated of ways and that to me is true greatness.   Invictus - Latin for "unconquered" and inspiration and motivation in my life every day.

Invictus

BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

Cuts Like a Knife

My 7 year old daughter is currently studying the past, present and history in social studies.  She brought home an assignment the other day to do a personal timeline.  We were discussing important things that have happened in her life and I pointed out she had missed the birth of her siblings (3 have been born since she was).  So she went back to work at the timeline and showed it to me later.  She had included the birth of her two younger sisters but Eli was missing from the timeline.  I pointed out where he should be and asked her if she wanted to include him.  She said "probably not".

In that split second my insides crumpled like newspaper.  Outside, I hope, my face registered nothing unusual.  Casually I asked "why not?"  to which she explained that earlier in the fall during her student of the week time she had explained she had two brothers in addition to her three sisters.  The children apparently questioned her about her brothers and she told them her brothers didn't have kidneys and they couldn't breathe when they were born.  Which is about as good of an explanation as any.  But then she said they made fun of her.  I asked how and she said they asked why her mom didn't just have another girl.

I'm not exactly sure what was said and how it was said but whatever happened made an impact on her and not one she cared to repeat.

While I'm sad that this happened to her, I can't blame her for wanting to only include her living siblings.  How many times have I only included my living children when asked by strangers or acquaintances?  I don't always feel like explaining or dealing with the looks on their faces or whatever else accompanies what I tell them.  It has nothing to do with Eli and Wyatt but everything to do with me.  They will always be my children, ever in my heart and my mind, but they are also very sacred to me and sometimes sharing them doesn't feel as sacred as I want so I selfishly keep them to myself.  I can't blame my daughter for reacting in a similar way.

So I thanked her for telling her class about Wyatt and Eli and left it alone.  It hasn't left me alone quite yet.

When the Hammer Falls Either Run or Duck

I recently wrote about running my first 10k under extremely challenging weather conditions.  The physical and mental strength and stamina I needed to run for one hour under those circumstances were significant to say the least.  It didn't occur to me until I put that into written words how my life and personal circumstances fits into that same mindset right now.

I took on a new and very demanding volunteer opportunity at the end of last spring.  Since then I've given it my all at the expense of my mental well being and so much time with my family.  It is a good cause and one I would not continue with if I didn't strongly believe in its worth.  Regardless it's taking a toll.  I feel like it's just one catastrophe to the next and since I am the leader I end up having to clean up all the messes while trying to balance spinning plates on my head and both hands and sometimes a knee as well.   I would never cut it in the circus.  Too many broken plates.

Power of a written word is amazing.  Day after day I feel like throwing in the towel, or rather, just taking all of these plates that I'm spinning and chucking them as hard as I possibly can into a brick wall.  The satisfaction of seeing them shatter would be worth it.  At least that's what I tell myself.  For a few minutes or maybe even an hour that much would be true.  But then I starting thinking about that 10k.  It was a painful experience but the feelings that hit me when I crossed that finish line were so worth it.  As an aside, it's awfully creepy to finish a 10k not anywhere near last place and have no one but the timer at the finish line and he was sitting in a pickup truck.  Told you the weather was Bad that day!

I finished.  I persevered and no one can take that away from me.  I built a little bit onto myself that day.  I pushed myself farther than I thought I could go.  Better yet, I didn't push myself to the brink which means I have even more to give.  Afterwards I was very cold and very wet but I felt good.   I placed better than expected but in all honesty very few people actually ran the race and I was just slightly off my goal time which was awesome considering how freaking windy it was that day and that I ran the last three miles straight into that 45mph wind.  My volunteer position goes until the end of this spring which leaves me with many more months and probably many more catastrophes.  A year is a lot longer than an hour to spend under that kind of stress.  But in reality I've been through much worse.  I've carried two pregnancies that ended with me leaving a hospital without my son and at the cemetery so I just don't think this can compare to that in terms of badness.  Not much can.  Now that I've put a little more perspective in this situation I just need to keep telling myself I've been through worse and I can get through this too.  In fact, I may even feel good when it's over.  I can hope, right?

There Are Lessons All Around Us

My five year old just finished watching Disney's The Lion King.  I tuned in when an adult Simba returned to the Pridelands and faced his Uncle Scar for the first time since he left as a child because he believed he was responsible for his father Mufasa's death.  Mufasa believes he will get rid of Simba and confesses that it was he, not Simba, who killed Mufasa.

That revelation after so many years of self doubt, sadness and guilt, had to have been mind blowing for Simba.   He spent many years away from his home and away from his family and most importantly, not being his true self, because he lived in the shadow of all of those complicated emotions.  I get that he's a cartoon lion, but come on, there's a lesson in there for all of us.  Especially us.  Carrying guilt in our hearts over the loss of our little ones can only stand in the way of us being able to be our true selves.  It can separate us from family, friends and ourselves.  Guilt is a corrosive emotion which can literally change us from the inside out.

To quote the great Pumba, "[Y]ou got to put your behind in your past" er, I guess I'm looking for Timon's correction, "You gotta put your past behind you".  That doesn't mean forgetting, it doesn't mean completely letting go.  Hold on to your little ones, always keep them close.  But it does mean doing what we can to recognize any guilt we carry and to get out from under it's shadow.

When I Realized I Am Somewhat Healed

As I'm sure many of you know, this past Tuesday, October 15th, was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  I knew that too but I didn't actually realize it until after 10pm that evening and even then I didn't come to that realization on my own.  I happened to be reading a book with the local evening news on and bam! there was mention of pregnancy and infant loss remembrance.  It got my attention immediately and just as quickly I felt like a schmutz.  Here the whole day had passed and I did nothing.

It's okay, judge me.  I know what an important day this is to the community of us who have lost pregnancies and/or infants.  I never dreamed it would be possible to forget this day.  While wondering how this could have happened, I realized that for me it is a signal that I've healed - some.  I no longer want or need to announce my loss to the world which was a big part of my participation in October 15th in years past.  I wanted everyone and anyone to know how much I had suffered.  I needed to have some kind of explanation out there for how freakish I felt inside.  As the days, months and years have passed I have assimilated that suffering into myself and at some point unknown to me it just became a non-defining part of me.  I no longer define myself as bereaving mother though I know I will be one until the day I die.  It is another hat that I wear underneath all of my others.  It's a hat that I can't take off but one that I also don't show off.  It's something I hold close to my heart like the other weekend when I ran my first 10k and woke up to a day of snow mixed with rain and 40mph+ wind gusts and instead of seeking refuge in my warm, comfortable home I went to that race and I ran it because I knew no matter how difficult it would be physically that I have suffered so much worse in my life and I would absolutely make it through.  And I did.

I do so much for my boys now without even giving it conscious thought.  They are my rock and keep me grounded when everything else is in the air.  I just keep telling myself that I've suffered so much worse and I can get through whatever is dragging me down.  I no longer need my pink and blue ribbon but I know exactly where it is. I'm sorry October 15th, I'm sorry that you didn't get the attention you deserve from me this year.  I'm also incredibly grateful for those of you who gave it more attention that most, for those who make sure it is declared a day of remembrance, for those who place beautiful white roses and poems on all of the baby graves in my cemetery, for whoever got it on the local news that evening.  Because October 15th is about more than me, Wyatt, or Eli - it's for recognition of the pain those of us who have lost little ones carry, it's about letting others know how and why they can help us bear that pain, and it's about letting anyone who has carried that pain know that it's okay to recognize the pain and that it's never too late.  So I may be late, but to all those who have lost pregnancies or infants, God bless you, your families and your little ones.

How to Keep Swallowing That Lump In Your Throat

My post on grief relapse somehow didn't include one extremely important occurrence which I somehow forgot...the first Potter baby to survive.  I've posted about this before and since it has received media attention because her mother is a member of Congress.  It has caused hurt and controversy and of course, is a beacon of hope for those of us who have walked and are walking through the darkness of infant loss due to Potter's.  Many suggest that little Abigail can't have true Potter's, that perhaps there is something that the public doesn't know, tissue that was not reported on, etc.  Others believe it's a true miracle.  Even the congresswoman herself touts it as a miracle.  

I understand that point of view completely and if her baby had been my first Potter's baby I would probably say very similar things.  But my reality is my own headstone with two little coffins buried in between my husband and my final resting places.  So, I respectfully disagree that her daughter is a miracle.  Her daughter is the product of medical patients who were able to access medical professionals who were willing to do something that went against the grain.  Doctors who were willing to try something that appeared to be effective instead of standing behind the already delivered death sentence.  Maybe that behavior is miraculous but I don't believe it should be.  For any medical condition.  Period.  We should all have access to the best health care and to the doctors and other medical professionals who will listen to their patients, treat their patient's conditions and be willing to work with patients to achieve the best possible result in every situation.  

I digress.  This has bothered me on a very subconscious level EVERY SINGLE DAY since I first found out about it.  I don't and I can't dwell on it because there is nothing I can do to bring Wyatt and Eli back.  What I can do is spread the word and through my words encourage others to find answers and treatment.  But this all just really kills me in so many ways.  Of course I'm relapsing.  I've lost 2 sons to this condition and the most recent only 2 years ago.  Of course.