Seven months has gone by, in what feels like the blink of an eye. I talk a lot about how if Alexandra would be born living, she would be seven months old today, or she would be reaching such and such milestone. Really, if she had been born living, I probably wouldn't have had her for a few more weeks, so closer to mid May, she would have been reaching 7 months.
I know it doesn't matter, that didn't happen, but I think about it sometimes. April 27th, changed the course of everything, if that day had never happened, Alexandra wouldn't have been born until much closer to her due date...More than likely.
Sometimes I wish that I could go back and take that day away. If April 27th had never happened, and everything that happened on that day were taken away, would my baby be here with me today? Maybe.
But, April 27th DID happen, and April 29th was when my beautiful daughter was born, and today she is seven months old.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The Vacant House
As a family, we like to play games. We play computer games, board games, video games, you name it, we like to play it! One of our favorite family games is Animal Crossing - City Folk, on the wii. I started out playing it by myself. Steve bought it for me when I first found out I was pregnant with Alexandra. It helped kill a lot of time where I sat in bed, sick all day long!
Eventually Steve and Dayne both started to play. They used my little character to plant trees and pick fruit and to go fishing, dig for fossils and catch bugs. We built up our little town museum, we built a bridge and got a fountain and eventually, we got Dayne his own little character.
When you start the game you have to buy a house. There are four little houses in the town that you have to choose from. For a long time I couldn't figure out why all those houses stayed when I had already chosen my house. When we let Dayne start playing we figured it out. I thought he'd get his own little town, but no, he got to move into my town and pick his own little house.
He chose the house on the beach and he loves it. He is very proud to say "MY house is on the beach, but mommy lives up by the store...that's not close to the beach where MY house is." And of course came Steve, he moved into the house by the river and by the bridge that we built, because he likes to fish. It's a little out of the way, but it's what he chose.
And so, there is the vacant house. The house on the hill, near the store, very close to the house I chose. It's like the game is screaming that a family without four is left with one vacant house...the empty spot that was supposed to be filled by Alexandra. In MY house I have a little room with a little pink bassinet, a really big teddy bear and a balloon. It's so silly, but it's just another little thing that I did to remind me that Alexandra is everywhere that I am, even in a game.
But that small empty house mocks me every time I run by it. The vacant house is not just a house in the came, it is a metaphor for our life now.
Eventually Steve and Dayne both started to play. They used my little character to plant trees and pick fruit and to go fishing, dig for fossils and catch bugs. We built up our little town museum, we built a bridge and got a fountain and eventually, we got Dayne his own little character.
When you start the game you have to buy a house. There are four little houses in the town that you have to choose from. For a long time I couldn't figure out why all those houses stayed when I had already chosen my house. When we let Dayne start playing we figured it out. I thought he'd get his own little town, but no, he got to move into my town and pick his own little house.
He chose the house on the beach and he loves it. He is very proud to say "MY house is on the beach, but mommy lives up by the store...that's not close to the beach where MY house is." And of course came Steve, he moved into the house by the river and by the bridge that we built, because he likes to fish. It's a little out of the way, but it's what he chose.
And so, there is the vacant house. The house on the hill, near the store, very close to the house I chose. It's like the game is screaming that a family without four is left with one vacant house...the empty spot that was supposed to be filled by Alexandra. In MY house I have a little room with a little pink bassinet, a really big teddy bear and a balloon. It's so silly, but it's just another little thing that I did to remind me that Alexandra is everywhere that I am, even in a game.
But that small empty house mocks me every time I run by it. The vacant house is not just a house in the came, it is a metaphor for our life now.
Friday, November 26, 2010
The Tattoo
I have three tattoos and had always planned for several more. I know exactly what I want. When we lost Alexandra, my cute little fairy tattoo that I had planned for her turned into a memorial tattoo. I had the idea all worked out in my mind and I asked Steve to please get me that tattoo for my birthday. Steve agreed.
My birthday was August 6th.
I know what I want, it just needs to be drawn and put on my arm (inner forearm-ish). So, we contacted Steve's first choice. I emailed the artist and explained what I wanted and then I waited. I waited and I waited and I did not hear back from the artist. I wanted the tattoo to be done before Alexandra's memorial, but as the date approached, I could tell it wasn't going to happen. After a while, I gave up and did some research of my own. I discovered a tattoo place in my city that is supposed to be really great. When I checked out their website, I found an artist that I liked and I emailed her. I waited and I waited and I heard nothing back. After a while I gave up on the reply email and just called. I left a message and I waited. I waited and I waited and did not receive a return phone call.
After an angry email, I took to Google. I found another place that looked nice. The website was nice, the artists work was amazing, I was excited and I emailed. I didn't have to wait this time, because the artist called me and after some telephone tag, I finally got in contact with the artists assistant. We booked my consultation this morning at 10:30. When Steve was booked to work last night, I frantically made other arrangements to get there and for childcare for Dayne and I made my way downtown, arriving at the building with five minutes to spare.
I knocked on the closed door. No one answered. I knocked some more, still nothing. A woman from another business poked her head and told me that I should take a seat, I may need to wait a few minutes. So I sat and I waited. And I waited and I waited and I waited. And at ten minutes past 11am, I gave up and I left. As I explained to my step dad (my ride) that she did not show up, I had to work hard to prevent myself from crying. But when I got home and saw that Steve had made it home from work I burst into the bedroom and said "She didn't even show up, you know!" and after having worked all night, Steve was greeted by my flood gates opening and tears pouring down my face.
I just want Alexandra's memorial tattoo. I explained to all three of the artists how important this tattoo was and what it's for and it seems that I am the only one that cares. The whole idea of the tattoo seems tainted now, like the happy memory of Alexandra will not be attached to it, rather, I will remember the run around I got and crappy people can be, any time I look at it. But I don't want to go back to the drawing board and think of a new idea, I like this one.
Today I am feeling sorry for myself. Today I wanted to stay in bed and cuddle with Dayne, but I dragged myself out and for what?
My birthday was August 6th.
I know what I want, it just needs to be drawn and put on my arm (inner forearm-ish). So, we contacted Steve's first choice. I emailed the artist and explained what I wanted and then I waited. I waited and I waited and I did not hear back from the artist. I wanted the tattoo to be done before Alexandra's memorial, but as the date approached, I could tell it wasn't going to happen. After a while, I gave up and did some research of my own. I discovered a tattoo place in my city that is supposed to be really great. When I checked out their website, I found an artist that I liked and I emailed her. I waited and I waited and I heard nothing back. After a while I gave up on the reply email and just called. I left a message and I waited. I waited and I waited and did not receive a return phone call.
After an angry email, I took to Google. I found another place that looked nice. The website was nice, the artists work was amazing, I was excited and I emailed. I didn't have to wait this time, because the artist called me and after some telephone tag, I finally got in contact with the artists assistant. We booked my consultation this morning at 10:30. When Steve was booked to work last night, I frantically made other arrangements to get there and for childcare for Dayne and I made my way downtown, arriving at the building with five minutes to spare.
I knocked on the closed door. No one answered. I knocked some more, still nothing. A woman from another business poked her head and told me that I should take a seat, I may need to wait a few minutes. So I sat and I waited. And I waited and I waited and I waited. And at ten minutes past 11am, I gave up and I left. As I explained to my step dad (my ride) that she did not show up, I had to work hard to prevent myself from crying. But when I got home and saw that Steve had made it home from work I burst into the bedroom and said "She didn't even show up, you know!" and after having worked all night, Steve was greeted by my flood gates opening and tears pouring down my face.
I just want Alexandra's memorial tattoo. I explained to all three of the artists how important this tattoo was and what it's for and it seems that I am the only one that cares. The whole idea of the tattoo seems tainted now, like the happy memory of Alexandra will not be attached to it, rather, I will remember the run around I got and crappy people can be, any time I look at it. But I don't want to go back to the drawing board and think of a new idea, I like this one.
Today I am feeling sorry for myself. Today I wanted to stay in bed and cuddle with Dayne, but I dragged myself out and for what?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Plateau
Most people liken grief to a roller coaster ride...and I happen to agree, wholeheartedly with that particular comparison. When describing my grief, I explain it in that way, a way that most people will automatically relate to, or understand. I'll say that my roller coaster ride of grief is working it's way back up, and people will know that I'm having a few good days...some may realize that the inevitable result of that though, is the plummet back down.
In my own mind though, I think of grief a little bit differently...I rarely explain to people what my imagination has turned grief into in my mind. Generally, if someone asks how I'm doing in regards to Alexandra, and I am in this place, where I am now, I will respond by telling them that I am on a bit of a plateau. People usually understand that to mean that I'm somewhere in the middle and just sitting there, neither good nor bad, but better than usual, so it's ok.
Beyond that though...in my mind, grief appears to be a mountain. I was at the top of that mountain, in the clouds, triumphant. And then, a swift wind came and knocked me down off the top of that mountain, and I fell. And I fell and I fell until, right before I smashed into the earth, my safety line jerks me to a halt. And there was a time, where I hung there, that time right after we lost Alexandra, where nothing seemed real, I was in a fog...in shock from such a massive fall. Hanging there, confused about why I hadn't struck the earth and died. Hanging there confused and dazed and not really understanding or taking anything in, just trying to get myself back up onto my feet. To get my footing, so I could stand and look up at the mountain that is grief.
After a few days the confusion wore off and I realized what had happened and I began to climb. And as I climb, occasionally, I slip down a little bit, having a bad day. Some days I slip and fall, and down I tumble, into the sadness below. And I have to pick myself back up and climb up the part that I thought I was past. Sometimes, I reach a spot where I can stop and sit for a minute...sometimes that minute turns into a day, a week, maybe even a month, and sit there on that plateau, almost numb, not wanting to deal with anything. Sometimes that plateau has a little warmth, where I think that I could stay for a long time, I'm not to the top, I'm not to the "better" part, but a little warmth can go a long way, when you've been struggling up a cold and desolate mountain for nearly 7 months.
My goal is the top. My intent is to make it back to the top of this mountain, cautiously. There will be more slips and more tumbles and more warm plateaus, but my goal is the top.
In my own mind though, I think of grief a little bit differently...I rarely explain to people what my imagination has turned grief into in my mind. Generally, if someone asks how I'm doing in regards to Alexandra, and I am in this place, where I am now, I will respond by telling them that I am on a bit of a plateau. People usually understand that to mean that I'm somewhere in the middle and just sitting there, neither good nor bad, but better than usual, so it's ok.
Beyond that though...in my mind, grief appears to be a mountain. I was at the top of that mountain, in the clouds, triumphant. And then, a swift wind came and knocked me down off the top of that mountain, and I fell. And I fell and I fell until, right before I smashed into the earth, my safety line jerks me to a halt. And there was a time, where I hung there, that time right after we lost Alexandra, where nothing seemed real, I was in a fog...in shock from such a massive fall. Hanging there, confused about why I hadn't struck the earth and died. Hanging there confused and dazed and not really understanding or taking anything in, just trying to get myself back up onto my feet. To get my footing, so I could stand and look up at the mountain that is grief.
After a few days the confusion wore off and I realized what had happened and I began to climb. And as I climb, occasionally, I slip down a little bit, having a bad day. Some days I slip and fall, and down I tumble, into the sadness below. And I have to pick myself back up and climb up the part that I thought I was past. Sometimes, I reach a spot where I can stop and sit for a minute...sometimes that minute turns into a day, a week, maybe even a month, and sit there on that plateau, almost numb, not wanting to deal with anything. Sometimes that plateau has a little warmth, where I think that I could stay for a long time, I'm not to the top, I'm not to the "better" part, but a little warmth can go a long way, when you've been struggling up a cold and desolate mountain for nearly 7 months.
My goal is the top. My intent is to make it back to the top of this mountain, cautiously. There will be more slips and more tumbles and more warm plateaus, but my goal is the top.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The Salon
Yesterday I went to get my hair cut. I went back to my favorite stylist so she could cut my hair and wax my eyebrows. I love her because she's sweet, kind and quiet and she does a killer job. I have loved every style she has chosen for me. I was excited to get to go and even more excited when I saw her sitting there. I followed her to the chair to have my eyebrows done and sat there, head back, with my eyes closed until she was done.
When I sat down she asked how Dayne was doing and if he liked school and I babbled on about how great he is and how he loves school and just got an award. When I stopped talking she took a step back, turned sideways and announced that she is going to be a mom soon too. I looked down at her belly, which her apron and layered black clothing seemed to conceal and realized that, indeed, there was a very large baby belly. I felt three things, first, a very sharp pain in my chest, with the thought "I just CANNOT get away from pregnant women!" and then I felt excitement for her, because she was clearly SOOO happy and then I felt envy.
I brushed it all aside and carefully asked her if she was excited and when she was due...I didn't know what else to do. At some point, after a short silence, she asked me "So, do you plan to have more kids?" and Alexandra's story tumbled out. She asked what happened and I told her that it was a cord accident, she seemed scared and I immediately thought that I should not have spoken. I tried to reassure her by telling her that cord accidents are fairly rare. I felt like I betrayed someone when I said that though. I guess still haven't figured out what to do, how to handle these sorts of things.
And I still feel badly and worry that she's now at home scared that her baby is going to get a knot in it's cord. Maybe one day this will not be such a taboo thing to talk about.
When I sat down she asked how Dayne was doing and if he liked school and I babbled on about how great he is and how he loves school and just got an award. When I stopped talking she took a step back, turned sideways and announced that she is going to be a mom soon too. I looked down at her belly, which her apron and layered black clothing seemed to conceal and realized that, indeed, there was a very large baby belly. I felt three things, first, a very sharp pain in my chest, with the thought "I just CANNOT get away from pregnant women!" and then I felt excitement for her, because she was clearly SOOO happy and then I felt envy.
I brushed it all aside and carefully asked her if she was excited and when she was due...I didn't know what else to do. At some point, after a short silence, she asked me "So, do you plan to have more kids?" and Alexandra's story tumbled out. She asked what happened and I told her that it was a cord accident, she seemed scared and I immediately thought that I should not have spoken. I tried to reassure her by telling her that cord accidents are fairly rare. I felt like I betrayed someone when I said that though. I guess still haven't figured out what to do, how to handle these sorts of things.
And I still feel badly and worry that she's now at home scared that her baby is going to get a knot in it's cord. Maybe one day this will not be such a taboo thing to talk about.
Clinging
Sometimes I notice that I cling to things. Odd things, that hurt me, but yet, I cling to them. Every few weeks I receive something in the mail from a formula or diaper company. I could contact them and stop these items from arriving, but I don't. They are currently piling up in one corner of Alexandra's crib. It started with me thinking that I would just keep them for a little while and then I would give them to someone I know who has a baby. After a while that green eyed monster got in the way of that. I don't want to give Alexandra's things to anyone else. Then I thought I would go through them all and keep the samples that were good for a really long time, maybe one day I would need them. But even that has passed and yet, I keep collecting these pieces of junk mail, meant to be used on Alexandra's needs.
I have also been clinging to the emails..."Your baby at 6 months" and other such subject lines pop up in my inbox and while I delete them, I refuse to unsubscribe.
These things hurt me. The sting when I'm having a bad day is horrific, on a good day, it's enough to bring me down for the rest of the day...and yet I refuse to decline these things, to unsubscribe, to tell them that my baby did not make it home. It's like...if I don't tell them, they are remembering her, but if I do, they will delete my email from their lists and Alexandra will forever be erased from their memory.
I know it's absolutely ridiculous, I am an address or an email address on a list and no one really knows me or actually thinks about little Alexandra when they send these things, but still, I cling...and I will continue to, for how long, I really have no idea.
I have also been clinging to the emails..."Your baby at 6 months" and other such subject lines pop up in my inbox and while I delete them, I refuse to unsubscribe.
These things hurt me. The sting when I'm having a bad day is horrific, on a good day, it's enough to bring me down for the rest of the day...and yet I refuse to decline these things, to unsubscribe, to tell them that my baby did not make it home. It's like...if I don't tell them, they are remembering her, but if I do, they will delete my email from their lists and Alexandra will forever be erased from their memory.
I know it's absolutely ridiculous, I am an address or an email address on a list and no one really knows me or actually thinks about little Alexandra when they send these things, but still, I cling...and I will continue to, for how long, I really have no idea.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Craft Sales
Yesterday I think I got a taste of Christmas. Last year I attended this big craft sale by my house. Yesterday I attended it again. Last year I was pregnant and sick, but I had so much fun. Yesterday it was another bittersweet moment. As I walked around there were tables set up with tutu's and hair bows, with blankets and little pink sweaters. Last year I was excited for these things, I bought little hats and booties. Yesterday I avoided them like the plague.
I stopped at a table where a woman was selling ornaments and teddy bears. She took such care and paid such close attention to details when she decorated these items. They had little rings on their hands, little anklets and bracelets, the bears even wore earrings. I fell in love with a little pink bear and I bought it for Alexandra's memory box (which is quickly becoming a trunk) I bought an ornament, a little angel kitty cat, with a pink dress. It was just precious. And as the woman wrapped the items and placed them in the the bag she spoke to them, telling them to behave at their new home and saying goodbye. She clearly put a lot of heart into the things that she made.
Her tone reminded me of the nurse at the hospital that helped us bath Alexandra. So gentle and so kind. She knew that the bear and the ornament weren't alive and weren't going to talk back, but she didn't care. I had such an urge to tell her that these were special gifts for my baby that was born sleeping. I didn't say it though, the idea of telling a stranger and making her sad because of the feelings that I was having, it didn't feel fair. But those purchases set my mood a little lighter. And as I looked around at other items, I felt good that Alexandra was included.
It was hard though, the Christmas music played and there were happy people doing happy Christmas shopping and it just reminded me over and over that the special gifts I would have been buying for Alexandra won't be bought. There will be no tiny pink gifts under the tree, no baby's first Christmas ornaments and little red dresses. It's not going to happen for me and that really stings.
I stopped at a table where a woman was selling ornaments and teddy bears. She took such care and paid such close attention to details when she decorated these items. They had little rings on their hands, little anklets and bracelets, the bears even wore earrings. I fell in love with a little pink bear and I bought it for Alexandra's memory box (which is quickly becoming a trunk) I bought an ornament, a little angel kitty cat, with a pink dress. It was just precious. And as the woman wrapped the items and placed them in the the bag she spoke to them, telling them to behave at their new home and saying goodbye. She clearly put a lot of heart into the things that she made.
Her tone reminded me of the nurse at the hospital that helped us bath Alexandra. So gentle and so kind. She knew that the bear and the ornament weren't alive and weren't going to talk back, but she didn't care. I had such an urge to tell her that these were special gifts for my baby that was born sleeping. I didn't say it though, the idea of telling a stranger and making her sad because of the feelings that I was having, it didn't feel fair. But those purchases set my mood a little lighter. And as I looked around at other items, I felt good that Alexandra was included.
It was hard though, the Christmas music played and there were happy people doing happy Christmas shopping and it just reminded me over and over that the special gifts I would have been buying for Alexandra won't be bought. There will be no tiny pink gifts under the tree, no baby's first Christmas ornaments and little red dresses. It's not going to happen for me and that really stings.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Snow
When Alexandra was born there was a snow storm. We get those spring time snow storms here sometimes and they are always the best because it just dumps on us, but it's not that cold so the snow is sticky and it hangs onto the trees and bushes and makes everything look like it's covered in clouds. To be honest, I hate the every other kind of snow, it's too cold and too slippery.
So, when it first snowed a few weeks ago, I thought about Alexandra and what she was thinking of the snow. I dismissed it because it wasn't much snow and she already knows about snow, after all, it was snowing like crazy the night before she was born and it snowed the day after he burial. Well, Monday night it snowed again here. It's our first real snow fall this winter (fall?), and it wasn't just a little bit. On Monday when I picked Dayne up from school I carried my coat, as we were walking to my sister's house the wind started to get cold and I could feel the snow coming. By the time I went to bed it was coming down and the weather network said to expect 10 -15 cm's of snow through the night and the next day. Yesterday my sister told me that my nephew stepped into a snow drift up to his waist. Of course it's not like that everywhere, but there is a lot of snow. Today the snow is past Dayne's boot line in most places and they said another 10cm's is to be expected. I quickly discovered walking to school today wasn't an option when we got half way across the park and he told me there was snow in his boot and I lifted his snow pants to find that his boots were filled with snow, despite two pairs of pant linings being shoved into them.
Yesterday, after we took Dayne to school we went to the cemetery to visit Alexandra. It was cold and it was still snowing and as I stood there I thought about the snow. I thought that maybe she wanted me to like the snow, maybe Alexandra would have loved the snow and that's why it snowed the day she was born. Maybe I should warm up to the idea of snow and winter. I thought about how she had never seen snow like THIS and I wondered what she thought of it. Is she hanging out with her angel friends, sledding? Would she be like her mama and hate the cold and everything that comes with it, especially snow? Or would she love it? I wonder if we would have been paying for snowboarding lessons instead of dance lessons once she was old enough to choose and I thought about how I would tease her about making mommy go out in the cold.
Those kind of thoughts are good and bad. They are good because they make me feel close to Alexandra, it's almost like a memory...of something that never happened, if that makes any sense. At the same time, they hurt because I'm missing out on so much. I don't know if Alexandra would have liked snow...I don't know anything that she would have liked, and that thought breaks my heart.
So many things are double edged swords...I guess this is one of those examples of something that you have to take the good with the bad with.
So, when it first snowed a few weeks ago, I thought about Alexandra and what she was thinking of the snow. I dismissed it because it wasn't much snow and she already knows about snow, after all, it was snowing like crazy the night before she was born and it snowed the day after he burial. Well, Monday night it snowed again here. It's our first real snow fall this winter (fall?), and it wasn't just a little bit. On Monday when I picked Dayne up from school I carried my coat, as we were walking to my sister's house the wind started to get cold and I could feel the snow coming. By the time I went to bed it was coming down and the weather network said to expect 10 -15 cm's of snow through the night and the next day. Yesterday my sister told me that my nephew stepped into a snow drift up to his waist. Of course it's not like that everywhere, but there is a lot of snow. Today the snow is past Dayne's boot line in most places and they said another 10cm's is to be expected. I quickly discovered walking to school today wasn't an option when we got half way across the park and he told me there was snow in his boot and I lifted his snow pants to find that his boots were filled with snow, despite two pairs of pant linings being shoved into them.
Yesterday, after we took Dayne to school we went to the cemetery to visit Alexandra. It was cold and it was still snowing and as I stood there I thought about the snow. I thought that maybe she wanted me to like the snow, maybe Alexandra would have loved the snow and that's why it snowed the day she was born. Maybe I should warm up to the idea of snow and winter. I thought about how she had never seen snow like THIS and I wondered what she thought of it. Is she hanging out with her angel friends, sledding? Would she be like her mama and hate the cold and everything that comes with it, especially snow? Or would she love it? I wonder if we would have been paying for snowboarding lessons instead of dance lessons once she was old enough to choose and I thought about how I would tease her about making mommy go out in the cold.
Those kind of thoughts are good and bad. They are good because they make me feel close to Alexandra, it's almost like a memory...of something that never happened, if that makes any sense. At the same time, they hurt because I'm missing out on so much. I don't know if Alexandra would have liked snow...I don't know anything that she would have liked, and that thought breaks my heart.
So many things are double edged swords...I guess this is one of those examples of something that you have to take the good with the bad with.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Smelling The Roses
Yesterday I was walking to pick up Dayne from school and I noticed a bunch of birds, I think they were pigeon's, flying around in circles. They flew around and around, higher, then lower. I could hear their wings flapping, and when they would come down, I could actually FEEL a little gust of wind as they passed over my head. It was amazing, I watched them flying and thought about Alexandra. I thought about if this was one of her gifts. Maybe. As I kept walking I noticed a bird's nest in a tree. It's something new that I do. No matter how fast I'm going, no matter how much of a hurry I'm in, I look around. I don't have to slow down to take notice of something small, but amazing.
This is another thing that has changed since we lost Alexandra. Now I think, if I had known when I was pregnant, what I know now, I would have been grateful for every kick, I would have taken notice more. I would never have complained, not one complaint about my nausea or my pain. Not one grumble about not sleeping, or being uncomfortable. I would have been so much more grateful for it all.
If I ever have another child, I will be thankful for every single moment, every single second. I will slow down, and if I can't slow down, I will look more closely. I wish that I didn't have to lose my daughter to learn all of these lessons.
This is another thing that has changed since we lost Alexandra. Now I think, if I had known when I was pregnant, what I know now, I would have been grateful for every kick, I would have taken notice more. I would never have complained, not one complaint about my nausea or my pain. Not one grumble about not sleeping, or being uncomfortable. I would have been so much more grateful for it all.
If I ever have another child, I will be thankful for every single moment, every single second. I will slow down, and if I can't slow down, I will look more closely. I wish that I didn't have to lose my daughter to learn all of these lessons.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
My Christmas Wish
Like the rest of my loss mommy friends, if I could wish for anything, I would wish to have my daughter, here with me, living and happy. But, wishes like that don't come true, sadly. So, I am making a more realistic wish, and I'm bringing it to everyone that reads this. Everyone reading is capable of helping my Christmas wish come true! And I'm bringing it up this early so that everyone has time.
I was reading something that another loss mom had done for her baby's first Christmas. They had bought a stocking and asked their family and friends to do a random act of kindness in memory of her child and send them to her. They filled the stocking and read the notes that everyone had sent on Christmas day.
I love this idea and think it's a wonderful way to include Alexandra in Christmas, so that is what I'm going to do. And I'm hoping that people will spread this around and I will get lots of notes and emails and letters in the mail telling me about the kindness they are spreading for Alexandra.
And maybe this is an idea that will help some other loss moms to celebrate their Christmas with the memory of their baby.
I was reading something that another loss mom had done for her baby's first Christmas. They had bought a stocking and asked their family and friends to do a random act of kindness in memory of her child and send them to her. They filled the stocking and read the notes that everyone had sent on Christmas day.
I love this idea and think it's a wonderful way to include Alexandra in Christmas, so that is what I'm going to do. And I'm hoping that people will spread this around and I will get lots of notes and emails and letters in the mail telling me about the kindness they are spreading for Alexandra.
And maybe this is an idea that will help some other loss moms to celebrate their Christmas with the memory of their baby.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Patience...
So, this post is a question. It's a question for all of the loss moms that are reading, it's also for anyone that has suffered a serious, and unexpected loss in your life. I'm asking because of the impact this change is having on my life.
Have you noticed a feeling within yourself that you have a higher understanding of what is important? Drama and disagreements create a different response in me than they used to. I have never been a very patient person in regards to most things. I get frustrated easily. But this new change is different. My response is different. In a dispute, my reaction is no longer to sit and figure it out, to stay and talk until everyone felt better, my reaction now is to just walk away.
Something in my brain clicks into place and this inner voice says "This isn't important in the grand scheme of things. Don't waste time and energy on this. Walk away." You may think this is a good thing, and in most cases it is, however, it's a little bit of a double edged sword. My new inability to deal with crap causes me to be short...almost huffy. When that thing clicks in my brain I can guarantee the words coming out of my mouth are "Ok, I'm done now, I'm not doing this." and that's it, I'm done. Even if it's something that really should be dealt with, I'm just done.
I feel like something inside of me has decided that I have dealt with enough, I don't have to deal with anymore and my subconscious isn't going to ALLOW me to deal with any more. The stress is still there, the headache is still there, but I now have an inability to deal with it.
Is this just me? Is this common? Perhaps I'm losing it. I don't know.
Have you noticed a feeling within yourself that you have a higher understanding of what is important? Drama and disagreements create a different response in me than they used to. I have never been a very patient person in regards to most things. I get frustrated easily. But this new change is different. My response is different. In a dispute, my reaction is no longer to sit and figure it out, to stay and talk until everyone felt better, my reaction now is to just walk away.
Something in my brain clicks into place and this inner voice says "This isn't important in the grand scheme of things. Don't waste time and energy on this. Walk away." You may think this is a good thing, and in most cases it is, however, it's a little bit of a double edged sword. My new inability to deal with crap causes me to be short...almost huffy. When that thing clicks in my brain I can guarantee the words coming out of my mouth are "Ok, I'm done now, I'm not doing this." and that's it, I'm done. Even if it's something that really should be dealt with, I'm just done.
I feel like something inside of me has decided that I have dealt with enough, I don't have to deal with anymore and my subconscious isn't going to ALLOW me to deal with any more. The stress is still there, the headache is still there, but I now have an inability to deal with it.
Is this just me? Is this common? Perhaps I'm losing it. I don't know.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Little Things
I just wanted to talk about the little things that I do to keep Alexandra with me. I was thinking about these things and wondering if I'm the only one that does strange little things in the name of my lost child.
On Alexandra's six month birthday I packed my day with things to keep me busy. I shopped. I bought a few interesting things. I often comment about how easy it would be for me to become a hoarder. I will see something and make a connection with it and I must make it mine. It's usually something odd, something that really isn't good for anything. On that day, I was making connections with things...I was seeking connections with things. Things to hold onto. I bought pretty boxes and said they were for Christmas gifts, but nothing I have bought will fit in these boxes...I know that I will end up keeping them forever, looking at them every now and then, thinking about how pretty they are. I will never gift them to anyone like I said I would. One box is a Winnie The Pooh box. I thought of my Aunt Alison when I saw it and I picked it up to examine it. Along the outside of the lid it says "Christmas is generally regarded as one of the most grandest holidays!" I thought that sounded silly and I opened the box to see if anything was in it. It was empty but when you open this box it smells like Cinnamon sticks. The combination of a reminder of someone I loved, the cute pictures, silly saying and the wonderful smell, I HAD to have it.
As I continued shopping I found a mop doll. Now I must admit that I had seen this doll before and I looked at it, considered buying it and put it back because I thought it would absorb too much water at the cemetery. When I went back to this store on Alexandra's six month birthday, the doll was still there. Handmade and very cute. I picked it up and held it and wondered how it would be at the cemetery. My heart told me that it was still there for a reason and I must purchase it before someone else found it. The doll is unique and she's special and I made the decision later that day that she wouldn't go to the cemetery. She would be a gift for Alexandra that stayed at home, in Alexandra's bedroom, in her crib. And I imagined how happy Alexandra would have been, if she was alive, to get a new and very special doll.
That day I also connected with two things for me. I'll be honest and tell you that everyone that has seen these two items has made the same comments. The items are a scarf (I collect scarves) and a pair of gloves. The comment about the scarf is that it's ugly and people think of Harry Potter when they see. But I love the red and cream striped scarf. I have never seen Harry Potter, so I don't understand the connection, all I know is that the scarf wraps twice around my neck and still falls all the way past my waist. Super long scarves are my favorite.
The reaction to the gloves is more entertaining for me. They are the kind of gloves that turn into mittens...but with a twist. No one can understand why I bought them. Steve actually said "What were you thinking? You bought them as a joke right?" as he laughed at my very original taste in clothing items. Everyone agrees though, the gloves are me, they suit my personality perfectly and the scarf, well, it's a scarf and it will keep me warm...and I love it.
It's funny these little things that I connect to, or connect Alexandra to. I have a wind up ceramic mouse that my Grandma gave me a very long time ago and I connect it to Alexandra. It actually sits in her room, on her dresser and sometimes I go in there and wind it up, so she can hear Schubert's lullaby, like I used to when I was a little girl.
Sometimes I wonder when it will be enough, will I collect little things that connect me to her forever? Will my connection change to something else? I don't know, but as long as I feel her around me and have something to bring me closer to her, I will be able to continue on, living without her here with me every day.
On Alexandra's six month birthday I packed my day with things to keep me busy. I shopped. I bought a few interesting things. I often comment about how easy it would be for me to become a hoarder. I will see something and make a connection with it and I must make it mine. It's usually something odd, something that really isn't good for anything. On that day, I was making connections with things...I was seeking connections with things. Things to hold onto. I bought pretty boxes and said they were for Christmas gifts, but nothing I have bought will fit in these boxes...I know that I will end up keeping them forever, looking at them every now and then, thinking about how pretty they are. I will never gift them to anyone like I said I would. One box is a Winnie The Pooh box. I thought of my Aunt Alison when I saw it and I picked it up to examine it. Along the outside of the lid it says "Christmas is generally regarded as one of the most grandest holidays!" I thought that sounded silly and I opened the box to see if anything was in it. It was empty but when you open this box it smells like Cinnamon sticks. The combination of a reminder of someone I loved, the cute pictures, silly saying and the wonderful smell, I HAD to have it.
The reaction to the gloves is more entertaining for me. They are the kind of gloves that turn into mittens...but with a twist. No one can understand why I bought them. Steve actually said "What were you thinking? You bought them as a joke right?" as he laughed at my very original taste in clothing items. Everyone agrees though, the gloves are me, they suit my personality perfectly and the scarf, well, it's a scarf and it will keep me warm...and I love it.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Green With Envy
Today I had to take Dayne to the doctor. As we sat waiting, I scanned the room. On the other side of the room from us was a woman, I don't know her, I have never seen her, but she was there, with an infant carseat, all covered up with little girly blanket. I averted my eyes, Dayne and I looked through a book about cats.
We continued to wait and as we did I kept trying to avoid looking at this woman. At one point, I looked towards that clock and caught a glimpse of the woman. She had taken her baby out of the carrier, she was holding the little girl, who was about the age Alexandra would be. Something inside me started to tingle. Something, somewhere within myself began to well up...It was hate.
Right after we lost her, seeing babies Alexandra's age didn't bother me so much. It was more of a tiny stabbing pain in my heart. Hearing a baby cry though, was like a thousand burning knives being driven into my heart. It made me so sad. Well, now things have changed, just seeing a cute, giggly baby that is around the age that Alexandra should be, sends me someplace deep within myself, some place that I don't really like.
So, as we sat there, I continued to try to avoid looking in the direction of the baby. I could hear the mom talking to someone, laughing and I hated. I hated her. How could I hate someone that I have never met? I started to battle within myself. I told myself to stop being so ridiculous, and the angry hateful me continued to rage away.
The woman got up to take her baby to the bathroom, right in front of me. I didn't think I could handle it. "Should I leave?" I asked myself. But I stayed, sitting very still, staring down at the cat book with all my might. And when she went into the office, she walked past again, and again I stared downward, viciously staring at the floor.
It's jealousy, you know. The unexplained hate for somebody that has something that I desperately want...I was green with envy. And I don't know how to fix this, is this just another phase of grief that I have to go through? Will this pass?
I don't want to be a bitter, jealous person. I don't want any negativity surrounding Alexandra's memory. It is so hard to get past this negative energy. Why is it so difficult to let go of the bad and hold onto the good?
We continued to wait and as we did I kept trying to avoid looking at this woman. At one point, I looked towards that clock and caught a glimpse of the woman. She had taken her baby out of the carrier, she was holding the little girl, who was about the age Alexandra would be. Something inside me started to tingle. Something, somewhere within myself began to well up...It was hate.
Right after we lost her, seeing babies Alexandra's age didn't bother me so much. It was more of a tiny stabbing pain in my heart. Hearing a baby cry though, was like a thousand burning knives being driven into my heart. It made me so sad. Well, now things have changed, just seeing a cute, giggly baby that is around the age that Alexandra should be, sends me someplace deep within myself, some place that I don't really like.
So, as we sat there, I continued to try to avoid looking in the direction of the baby. I could hear the mom talking to someone, laughing and I hated. I hated her. How could I hate someone that I have never met? I started to battle within myself. I told myself to stop being so ridiculous, and the angry hateful me continued to rage away.
The woman got up to take her baby to the bathroom, right in front of me. I didn't think I could handle it. "Should I leave?" I asked myself. But I stayed, sitting very still, staring down at the cat book with all my might. And when she went into the office, she walked past again, and again I stared downward, viciously staring at the floor.
It's jealousy, you know. The unexplained hate for somebody that has something that I desperately want...I was green with envy. And I don't know how to fix this, is this just another phase of grief that I have to go through? Will this pass?
I don't want to be a bitter, jealous person. I don't want any negativity surrounding Alexandra's memory. It is so hard to get past this negative energy. Why is it so difficult to let go of the bad and hold onto the good?
Sunday, November 7, 2010
The New
I've had blond hair longer than I can remember. It was very blond when I was little, got a little darker as I got older. As an early teen it was a dark blond, possibly a light brown and that's when I started dying it blond. I've had a million different shades, from bright to strawberry to almost the same color as my skin. I always thought it suited me, sore I'd never go any other color and even when I gave in last year and tried a darker color, I had so many highlights put in that you really couldn't notice any light brown hair in there.
About a month ago, I dyed my hair brown. No highlights, just light brown. I felt different, it wasn't the same old Melissa in the mirror. It was new and I needed it. I loved it so much that a few days ago, I went darker, to a medium brown. It even more different, something even more new, and I love it.
I talked about my coffee ritual, the thing that is different and this is another one of those different things. I wonder, maybe if I shake off all the regular, maybe I can move forward, with Alexandra at my side, in a positive way. Maybe, if I shake off all of the old, and bring in some new, it will help me to peel away some of the really dark grief.
My hair has never been darker, but my hope is brighter than it's been in a while.
About a month ago, I dyed my hair brown. No highlights, just light brown. I felt different, it wasn't the same old Melissa in the mirror. It was new and I needed it. I loved it so much that a few days ago, I went darker, to a medium brown. It even more different, something even more new, and I love it.
I talked about my coffee ritual, the thing that is different and this is another one of those different things. I wonder, maybe if I shake off all the regular, maybe I can move forward, with Alexandra at my side, in a positive way. Maybe, if I shake off all of the old, and bring in some new, it will help me to peel away some of the really dark grief.
My hair has never been darker, but my hope is brighter than it's been in a while.
Friday, November 5, 2010
The Coffee Ritual
Today, as I cleaned my mug I thought about my new morning ritual. It used to include my High Prairie mug. I bought it when we were visiting family there a few years ago and I love it. I remember thinking "Who knew there would be a high prairie mug??" I collect mugs.
Last Friday was Alexandra's six month birthday and my mom gave me a new mug. I had asked Steve for this mug for my birthday, but he forgot, so I pointed it out to my mom for Christmas. Well, she chose to give it to me on Friday because it has some significance. On one side of the mug it says "Special moments take our breath away" and on the other side it says "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away" Ahhh, I get teary just typing it out.
So, my morning ritual changed slightly and I now use my new and very special mug. (No offense High Prairie!)
The reason my coffee ritual is so special is because it's different. A lot as changed since we lost Alexandra, but a lot has stayed the same. All of my routine is the same, and sometimes it's hard, sometimes it makes me sad. To stand in the shower, not with a baby in her swing right there in the bathroom with me so I can keep an eye on her, not with my big pregnant belly. Alone without my daughter. To take my time getting ready because Dayne is self sufficient. No diapers to change, no baby to feed. I anticipated how my day to day routine would change and then it didn't.
So, I started having coffee in the morning. I didn't drink coffee while I was pregnant, I was way too sick to have it even if I had wanted a cup. Before I was pregnant I would drink coffee by the pot, but I was at work when I did it, so this is different.
Now, I make my coffee, which completely interrupts my regular routine. And I sit and I drink my coffee, while I watch a show, sit on the computer, visit with Dayne. It's always a peaceful moment though...An entirely new moment, not a reminder of anything, not a trigger for anything, just a new moment that is mine. And while sometimes I feel guilty for wanting that new moment, I know that it's ok.
Last Friday was Alexandra's six month birthday and my mom gave me a new mug. I had asked Steve for this mug for my birthday, but he forgot, so I pointed it out to my mom for Christmas. Well, she chose to give it to me on Friday because it has some significance. On one side of the mug it says "Special moments take our breath away" and on the other side it says "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away" Ahhh, I get teary just typing it out.
So, my morning ritual changed slightly and I now use my new and very special mug. (No offense High Prairie!)
The reason my coffee ritual is so special is because it's different. A lot as changed since we lost Alexandra, but a lot has stayed the same. All of my routine is the same, and sometimes it's hard, sometimes it makes me sad. To stand in the shower, not with a baby in her swing right there in the bathroom with me so I can keep an eye on her, not with my big pregnant belly. Alone without my daughter. To take my time getting ready because Dayne is self sufficient. No diapers to change, no baby to feed. I anticipated how my day to day routine would change and then it didn't.
So, I started having coffee in the morning. I didn't drink coffee while I was pregnant, I was way too sick to have it even if I had wanted a cup. Before I was pregnant I would drink coffee by the pot, but I was at work when I did it, so this is different.
Now, I make my coffee, which completely interrupts my regular routine. And I sit and I drink my coffee, while I watch a show, sit on the computer, visit with Dayne. It's always a peaceful moment though...An entirely new moment, not a reminder of anything, not a trigger for anything, just a new moment that is mine. And while sometimes I feel guilty for wanting that new moment, I know that it's ok.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Eventually...
Eventually it will happen.
Eventually, my loss will get in the way of things. It will not be my fault. It will not be the fault of anyone, but eventually, it will happen.
Eventually the familiar sting will get stronger in my heart. It will be more than I can take and, eventually, you will tire of me and my pain.
You will feel guilty, or at least you will tell me that you feel guilty, but eventually, everyone has to carry on and express themselves in way that doesn't always take into consideration how the poor pathetic grieving girl will feel.
Eventually, you will stop walking on eggshells and you will feel better, but I will feel worse. And it won't be your fault. Or mine.
There is a point where my grief prevents me from understanding the world of the non-grievers. I don't remember how it was for me before, I only know now, when I barely keeping my head above the ocean that is my grief. There is a point when people that haven't been here have to draw a line. There is a time when, even the most empathetic, will drop the ball and if I point it out, they will feel guilt and they will express that guilt; but, secretly, within themselves, they will feel that they should not have to justify or feel guilty about saying or doing what they did. And they shouldn't.
Eventually, everyone will be hurtful and how I take it will depend on where I am within my grief. If I am buried in it, I will revert back within myself. I will grab my emotions and retreat, like a wounded animal, running in reverse. I will sit alone, with my trowel and my mortar, stacking bricks, walling myself in, keeping myself safe.
If I am floating, just above my grief, I will brush it off, I will seek out intent, I will be thankful that I have people around me that care enough to stumble for words and actions. I will be grateful that things were fun while they lasted. I will not cry or feel sorry for myself.
Eventually, everyone else will move on, and I will be left behind.
Eventually, my loss will get in the way of things. It will not be my fault. It will not be the fault of anyone, but eventually, it will happen.
Eventually the familiar sting will get stronger in my heart. It will be more than I can take and, eventually, you will tire of me and my pain.
You will feel guilty, or at least you will tell me that you feel guilty, but eventually, everyone has to carry on and express themselves in way that doesn't always take into consideration how the poor pathetic grieving girl will feel.
Eventually, you will stop walking on eggshells and you will feel better, but I will feel worse. And it won't be your fault. Or mine.
There is a point where my grief prevents me from understanding the world of the non-grievers. I don't remember how it was for me before, I only know now, when I barely keeping my head above the ocean that is my grief. There is a point when people that haven't been here have to draw a line. There is a time when, even the most empathetic, will drop the ball and if I point it out, they will feel guilt and they will express that guilt; but, secretly, within themselves, they will feel that they should not have to justify or feel guilty about saying or doing what they did. And they shouldn't.
Eventually, everyone will be hurtful and how I take it will depend on where I am within my grief. If I am buried in it, I will revert back within myself. I will grab my emotions and retreat, like a wounded animal, running in reverse. I will sit alone, with my trowel and my mortar, stacking bricks, walling myself in, keeping myself safe.
If I am floating, just above my grief, I will brush it off, I will seek out intent, I will be thankful that I have people around me that care enough to stumble for words and actions. I will be grateful that things were fun while they lasted. I will not cry or feel sorry for myself.
Eventually, everyone else will move on, and I will be left behind.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Strength
This is a word I hear a lot, Strength. Or more often, Strong. People tell women that survive after a loss such as this that we are all so strong. "I don't know how I would function if I lost my child, you're so strong"
My answer to that is, "You would function much the same way I am..."
I am not strong.
Strength is not what gets me through the days and through the nights. Strong is not a word I would use to describe myself. For me it's a combination of things. Dayne, Steve, and Kaney are at the forefront, I can't check out on them. But if not for them, I would still function...though I'm sure in a very different way.
When you lose your child, your heart does not stop with theirs, though sometimes you wish it had. It's that tiny little fact that keeps you going...you have no choice. My heart continued to beat, even though my daughter's did not.
I feel like this is probably a very dark post, and honestly it's coming from a fairly dark place, but my mind has been boggled since I lost my daughter, by that word - Strength. It is not my word, it is not my life, it is not ME.
I am not strong.
My answer to that is, "You would function much the same way I am..."
I am not strong.
Strength is not what gets me through the days and through the nights. Strong is not a word I would use to describe myself. For me it's a combination of things. Dayne, Steve, and Kaney are at the forefront, I can't check out on them. But if not for them, I would still function...though I'm sure in a very different way.
When you lose your child, your heart does not stop with theirs, though sometimes you wish it had. It's that tiny little fact that keeps you going...you have no choice. My heart continued to beat, even though my daughter's did not.
I feel like this is probably a very dark post, and honestly it's coming from a fairly dark place, but my mind has been boggled since I lost my daughter, by that word - Strength. It is not my word, it is not my life, it is not ME.
I am not strong.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Question Thirty
Day 30 - a dream for the future
Well, welcome to the last day. It's been nice to have something specific to talk about this past month.
My dream for the future? Well, I don't know, right now I dream of just a little less pain. I am struggling and I hope every day that I will wake up and the pain will have subsided just a tiny bit. No luck yet.
I also dream that we will one day have another child. That we will open the pool hall Steve has been dreaming of for years. That Dayne will be happy and successful and that Kaney will live for a very, very long time.
I guess that's more than one dream, but I think that's probably OK. As long as we can dream of things for future, there is hope, right?
Well, welcome to the last day. It's been nice to have something specific to talk about this past month.
My dream for the future? Well, I don't know, right now I dream of just a little less pain. I am struggling and I hope every day that I will wake up and the pain will have subsided just a tiny bit. No luck yet.
I also dream that we will one day have another child. That we will open the pool hall Steve has been dreaming of for years. That Dayne will be happy and successful and that Kaney will live for a very, very long time.
I guess that's more than one dream, but I think that's probably OK. As long as we can dream of things for future, there is hope, right?
Monday, November 1, 2010
Question Twenty Nine
Day 29 - hopes, dreams, and plans for the next 365 days
Wow, this is a loaded question. I have a lot of plans actually. A lot of my plans revolve around Alexandra and things she has inspired me to do.
I plan to continue to get the ball rolling with pregnancy and infant loss bracelets in my city. I plan to have Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day recognized in my Province, or at least in my city because it's currently not recognized. We hope to at least get a charity started, if not up and running within this next year as well.
I also plan to become pregnant some time within the next year. I hope that it's sooner than later, but we will have to wait and see where we both are within our grief as the months go on.
For Dayne, I plan for him to excel at tae kwon do (he really already is) to get at least one belt. I plan for us to be reading a book TOGETHER, rather than me reading TO him.
I hope to continue to understand what is REALLY important to in my life and not get caught up in the little things that bring your energy down and your stress levels up for no good reason.
I guess these plans are all rather vague, but it's hard for me to really make concrete plans these days. Nothing is guaranteed, everything could change in the blink of an eye.
Wow, this is a loaded question. I have a lot of plans actually. A lot of my plans revolve around Alexandra and things she has inspired me to do.
I plan to continue to get the ball rolling with pregnancy and infant loss bracelets in my city. I plan to have Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day recognized in my Province, or at least in my city because it's currently not recognized. We hope to at least get a charity started, if not up and running within this next year as well.
I also plan to become pregnant some time within the next year. I hope that it's sooner than later, but we will have to wait and see where we both are within our grief as the months go on.
For Dayne, I plan for him to excel at tae kwon do (he really already is) to get at least one belt. I plan for us to be reading a book TOGETHER, rather than me reading TO him.
I hope to continue to understand what is REALLY important to in my life and not get caught up in the little things that bring your energy down and your stress levels up for no good reason.
I guess these plans are all rather vague, but it's hard for me to really make concrete plans these days. Nothing is guaranteed, everything could change in the blink of an eye.
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