Sunday, June 26, 2011

Ann - My mother

One year ago, my mother died.  While visiting my sister and her family in Dallas last year, my mother collapsed while they were bowling.  She was rushed to the hospital.  That was on Friday.  That evening, my younger sister and my two aunts flew to Dallas.  My other sister flew in the next day.  My mother died of a brain aneurysm bursting.  She basically died that Friday but was kept alive via machines until Saturday afternoon.  She was able to donate her liver.  She was 65.

My mother struggled the last ten years of her life.  A part of her died when my daddy did 11 years ago and it seems just shit upon shit happened since.  Her house was destroyed in Katrina and her grandson was still born; just to name a couple.  She was also a compulsive gambler and unfortunately, never did stay in recovery.   She didn't have a car and often her phone was disconnected.  Sometimes, a couple of weeks would go by until I heard from her.  Or I would drive to her condo to make sure she was okay.  She would sometimes sleep at my house on the weekends to do her laundry and to watch my television (she didn't have cable).  She usually watched the Saints games at my house.  She loved to cook so she often made us a good meal while she was visiting.  She was a teacher and was still working.   She truly loved teaching.

She was my mom.  Ann, I miss you.  I keep thinking that I need to drive by your condo to check on you.  And then I remember.  You're not MIA, you're not here anymore.  I thought Blake's death prepared me for this.  But I was wrong.

   

Around Christmas, two of my sisters and I went to lunch.  We were talking about cousins in the family getting pregnant or trying to get pregnant.  Or rather they were.  Those are not conversations that I usually participate.  One of them said my cousin (who is due next month) was having trouble getting pg and was on clo.mid.  I said I had no idea.  And my younger sister said she had asked her when she was gonna start having kids.  I then said that I don't ask those kind of questions.  That even though they seem like innocent questions, they really aren't.  They are really personal and invasive.  Something as simple as "How many children do you have?" is not so simple to me.  I still stumble on how to answer that.  

And then my oldest sister said, "You can say, 'I have four kids, but one of them lives with his grandparents."

It sounds morbid or mean, but at the time it really was funny.  And all I could do was laugh.  As I imagined people's reactions if I did say that.  


So, Ann, I hope you and Daddy are taking care of my baby.  Please, I hope so.  I hope that is the case.  Love and miss the three of you.

Laine

complacency and forgiveness

I attend 12step meetings and in those meetings, we read a daily meditation book.  Thursday, the reflection was: Complacency is my enemy, easy to recognize in others but difficult to identify and accept in myself. Complacency simply means being sure we're right - taking it for granted that we couldn't possibly be wrong. It means, moreover, judging others by what we think is right. It blocks out understanding and kindness, and seems to justify qualities in ourselves that we'd find wholly intolerable in others.

I had never thought of the definition of complacency as such.  That's a word thrown around in meetings often and I've always thought of the meaning more like laziness or not putting forth effort.  So of course I had to search the web for the definition.  And this is what I found. 

1.   A feeling of contentment or self-satisfaction, especially when coupled with an unawareness of danger, trouble, or controversy. 

2.  A feeling of calm satisfaction with your own abilities or situation that prevents you from trying harder.

So it's giving me much to ponder.  I definitely have an issue with "complacency".  I have a very difficult time thinking I could possibly be wrong.  I am very judgmental which leads to a sense of smugness.  

Before the meeting, I met with a friend so that we could "chat".  This is a person who, if asked six months ago, I would have called my closest friend.  In the last six months, a whole bunch of shit has happened which would take me forever and a day to write about here.  I'll give you a brief rundown.  She had a very bad breakup two years ago ending a ten year relationship and she has been very depressed about it for the past two years.  She decided she was going to start 2011 with a new positive attitude and start dating again and stop letting negativity in her life and stop letting other people drag her down.  Meanwhile, I had a baby in December, quit my job, took my three year old out of daycare and became a sahm.  I was majorly sleep deprived, my husband was (is?) an idiot and I felt way overwhelmed, all alone, anxious and depressed; basically the poster child for negativity.  While she was partying and dating again, I was at home freaking out.  Looking back, I believe I was probably suffering from post partum depression.  But I felt abandoned by her and thought it was because she didn't want to deal with my problems and 'negativity'.  She then broke her foot in March and from our discussion the other night, she feels I abandoned her in her time of need.  

So it comes down to grown women acting like teenagers again and not communicating with each other.  Her feelings are/were hurt and mine are too.  We talked a little about it and each apologized and decided to start fresh from here.  

Which lies the problem.  I can't seem to let it go.  She had no idea that I felt abandoned (I sound like a child, I know) in January and February.  I told her the other night and she was surprised and kind of shrugged it off.  Okay, she did apologize but she had no idea what I was talking about.  She thinks the problem started in March after she broke her foot.  I think she only noticed that I wasn't around in March (and let's not forget that my dead son's birthday is in March which sends me reeling every frickin' year to begin with and I'm not completely sane) was that she couldn't drive and so she wasn't going out and partying so much anymore and that was when she noticed that tried and true Laine wasn't around.  See?  I'm still trying to defend myself here and prove that I'm 'right' even though we supposed to have let bygones be bygones and start anew. 

Which leads me to the meditation from Wednesday; which I read Thursday night during the meeting break.  The minute we think about a twisted or broken relationship with another person, our emotions go on the defensive. To avoid looking at the wrongs we've done another, we resentfully focus on the wrong he or she has done us. With a sense of triumph, we seize upon his or her slightest misbehavior as the perfect excuse for minimizing or forgetting our own. We have to remember that we're not the only ones plagued by sick emotions. Often, we're really dealing with fellow sufferers, including those whose woes we've increased.

The only thing I can respond to that little ditty is "Fuck me".  

But I don't know how to let it go.  How to completely forgive her.  I miss her but now the trust has been broken and the friendship will never be the same.  And I'm pissed and I'm hurt and I'm sad.  She was one of the chosen few who 'got it'.  Or at least, tried to 'get it' when it came to Blake.  And now I feel I don't want to share that part of me with her anymore.  I don't know.  I don't know where I'm going with this post.  It's just all jumbled in my head and I thought I could get some perspective if I wrote it out.  But I'm not.  It's just making me sad.

I want to release it.  The anger and hurt that I feel.  I've been upset about this for months and I finally took a step to try to mend it the other night.  And now I'm thinking maybe it was too soon because I can't let it go.  I want to forgive her.  I want to admit my wrongdoing in this.  But I can't seem to get past the feeling that I'm right and she's wrong.

Any words of wisdom out there?  How does one forgive?  How do you forgive someone when that person doesn't really think they did anything wrong?

Missing Blake always,
Laine

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Competition in motherhood - swimming lessons

My son doesn't know how to swim.  He's 11.  Which basically makes me a crap mom.  As a toddler, he loved the water.  Thinking I was doing the right thing, I put him in swimming lessons when he was 2 or maybe 3 years old.  I believe it was traumatic for him because he rarely wanted to get in the water after that summer.  I figured he'd grow out of it and as he got older and saw how much fun his friends had in the water that he'd want to do it.  Well, he never did.

Three years ago, I put him in swimming lessons again.  To no avail.  He knew nothing more and still wanted no part of getting in a pool after that week than he did on day one.  This summer, I figured I'd force him in swimming lessons again.  Maybe with someone older this time who did it at her home. The teacher 3 years ago was a young girl just starting college who did it at a club.  Maybe that would make a difference.

He goes to Florida on vacation with my aunt and her family every summer.  While they were there early this month, they talked about him trying swimming lessons again with the person that my cousin had sent her two boys.  The cousin with the almost 4 year old (4months younger than Blake should be) and a 2 yr. old.  My son told me he was willing to go to this person since Chris (the almost 4yr. old) can swim really well.

I was thrilled!  He was willing.  My aunt would pay for it.  He'd finally be able to swim confidently.  The solution I've been waiting for!

Weeks had passed and nothing had been done about the lessons.  So when I saw my cousin this week, I asked her about it.  She said she had just forgotten since she was in a whirlwind working on her sister's shower (see previous post) and that she'd call the girl the next day.  I asked her for more info like the price, how she liked it, about the girl and the location.  It turns out that it is the same person that my son went to 3 years ago.

My heart just sank.  Just another moment in my life where things just seem to turn to shit.  Yeah, I know I'm being melodramatic.  But, really?  I said "Oh well, never mind.  This has me so bummed out.  I can't believe it's the same person.  I really had high hopes."  She said, "Really?  You're sure it's the same person.  Out at such-and-such club?"  I said "Yeah, I sent him three years ago.  I remember because Kasey was a month old and we sat there and sweated our butts off the entire time."

And here's the kicker.  Since there always seems to be one.  She continued to carry on about how much her boys loved it and that Chris swims like a fish and her 2 yr. old is so comfortable in the water and how great the girl is and how she did it at the beginning of the summer so the pool wasn't very crowded and how the place is kind of far but it was definitely worth it and how they went every day for a week and how much it was and again how great of a swimmer Chris is and how much fun he had in Florida and how important she felt it was for them to learn how to swim at this age so they could enjoy the water and how they can swim so fabulously and on an on.

And the way I read this is her saying "I'm better than you because my boys can swim and you suck."

Because there's always a competition in parenthood.  I figure next time (cuz there will be a next time), I'll simply tell her, "I don't think you realize what you're doing.  You don't need to remind me how much better of a mother you are.  It's not a competition.  But you win.  You've won already.  In the only competition that matters.  Your 4 year old is alive and mine is dead.  So you are the better mother just on that point alone.  So just shut the fuck up!"

Do you think that would work?

Missing Blake always,
Laine

Monday, June 13, 2011

Goddaughter's baby shower

My goddaughter and cousin is pregnant with her first child.  The baby shower was this past weekend.  And yes, I went.  Which is a first for me.  Well, actually, the second.  I went to my sister's last year but only stayed an hour.  I had to leave before the gifts were opened.

After Blake died, I swore I would never go to another baby shower for as long as I lived except for my own daughter or daughter-in-law.  I guess this is a positive step?

I still think they are ridiculous in the sense that everyone just assumes everything will be hunky-dory.  It was another cruelty having to return all those gifts or give them away.  I sobbed in Bab.ies R U.s as I returned stuff and dared them to give me a hard time.  I was itching for a fight that day.  I remember the moment so clearly.  How I felt so clearly.  They were nice and didn't even ask why I was returning the stuff.

The thing that really got me about my cousin's shower was that almost everyone just assumed I was attending.  Even the idiot man I married.  I debated with myself for a couple of days and had a big sob fest and pity party for myself.  In the end, I decided to go.  Maybe to pretend to be normal for a change.  Maybe because I thought she'd give a shit.  Maybe because I knew I could leave at anytime.  Maybe because I really had nothing better to do and I'd be fretting over it anyway.  I don't know but I did go and it really was fine.  My aunt's house is set up that I could go in another room or outside if I wanted and not look as though I was hiding out.  But it wasn't very stressful or emotional.  The actual shower.  The days leading up to it were the bitch.


That morning, my little sister called to ask if I was going.  And maybe that made it easier.  That someone acknowledged my feelings.

The shower was lovely.  Not that this means I'm jumping to go to all of them in the future and that I'm cured of the baby shower gris-gris.   But I don't have to decide that today. 

And my sweet, sweet goddaughter told me as she hugged me hello, "It means so much to me that you decided to come."  So, I guess she did give a shit after all.  The tear-jerker in that statement is "decided"; not that she was glad that I was just there but that I made a choice to do so.

So maybe not everyone is always so clueless as I think. 

Laine

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

You Look Like a Princess, Mommy

That's what my 3year old daughter told me tonight as we were playing tent under her covers.  Which totally melts my heart.  And reminds me what a precious gift  she is!

My pregnancy with Blake was a surprise.  It took a while for us to try for another after our oldest.  Just a lot of shit going on.  Basically I was gambling my life away.  And all of our money.  A couple of years after I quit gambling, we decided to try for another.  Not that we tried really hard.  It wasn't until after Blake that I even knew about charting and temps and all that other shit involved in ttc.  Before him, we did it the old fashioned way with the attitude if it happens, it happens.  What's meant to be will be.  (Yeah, gagging now as I type this.  Perspective is everything, I guess.)

So when a little hurricane hit our neck of the woods and all hell broke loose, I took it as a sign that D would be an only.  And really was fine with that.  After the storm, my son, my mother and I lived with my sister in Maryland for a few weeks.  Then my son and I lived with my aunt just a few blocks away with her family and her in-laws (their house got flooded).  My dh stayed at our house repairing it.  We didn't flood, but had damage from the huge hole that had been blown out our roof.  I eventually was laid off in the spring of 2006.  I was a manager of a store and the mall suffered major damage.  They kept me on for a few months scurrying me about, but eventually they had to let two of us go.  The kicker ... the store was a maternity clothing store.  I started exercising.  Lost some weight.  Was feeling pretty good about myself and my life.

In July of 2006, immediately after I ate a slice of pizza and threw up, I knew.  I had the same issue when I was pregnant with D.  I was surprised.  To tell you the truth, I was kind of freaked out.  I felt too old to be doing it all over again.

But I was excited to be doing it all over again.  I figured I didn't know diddly about freakin' signs.  Or that it didn't happen because of the storm and now the timing might be better for us.  Do I really need to tell you how completely pissed off I was when I was told "Nope, there's no heartbeat" just as simply as someone telling me "Nope, we're out of fries today."   Are you fuckin' kidding me?!?!  What a sick, cosmic joke!!  And that was my mantra for about 80 percent of my labor with Blake.  Really, I was okay having an only child.  Why bother giving me another just to take him away?  I didn't understand it then, and I certainly don't understand it today.

After Blake died, I knew I wanted another one.  The baby lust was so strong I couldn't see straight.  Of course, I couldn't see straight because I was a  blithering mess in the pits of hell. 

After our daughter was born, I cried every night as I rocked her begging Whoever, Whatever not to take her, too.  I was completely in love with her.  I had forgotten what it was like to have a real, live baby.  It had been eight years.  Shit, I've forgotten with S and it's only been 2 1/2 years. 

She really helped make me smile a little brighter again.  Not to take anything away from D because he was the only reason I could function at all that first year.  The only reason I was able to smile.  There's just a light about this girl that brings me to tears sometimes.  Could be that she's at the fun age.  Granted she's in her terrible threes, but it's the cutest age.  I still remember D at that age.  They're just so funny and becoming such little people. 

After these past four months, I had decided last week to start taking better care of myself.  These past four months, probably due to major sleep deprivation, I've been in a funk.  You can tell by my last post.  When I read it today, I seem so angry.  But it was just what I needed.  By typing that post, I was able to release some of it.  That's the funny thing about grief.  It's such a convoluted mess.  One day, you're up and the next, you're hanging on the edge of the abyss with bloody fingers.

Tonight, a friend of mine had some friends over.  She had a psychic or fortune teller there to read our fortunes.  I figured it'd be a kick.  There's been some tension between my friend and me the last few months and I thought perhaps this was some sort of olive branch she was extending.  There were a bunch of us there and the psychic person took a really long time with each person.  I never got my fortune told.  I think she used tarot cards but cannot be sure.  I had to leave because it was getting late and I needed to get home for the kids' bedtime.  As I was driving home, I felt a little bummed out that I missed out.  

Not thirty minutes later, I'm under the covers playing in the tent when my daughter tells me as she's playing with my hair, "You look like a princess, Mommy".  I told her "Thank you.  You look like a princess, too."  

I thought to myself "thank you" with a deep breath and hugged her tight.  She has no idea what joy she has brought to this broken woman who was in such darkness for such a long time.  And continues to do so.  No, she can never replace the hole in my heart.  I don't want her to.  But she reminds me to enjoy the present (as in time) and to let the little anthills that I make into mountains remain the anthills they are. 

As I was finishing up this post, my baby woke up for his midnight snack.  And again, I took a breath and thought "Thank you".  In a second, I'll go hug my oldest while he's sleeping and do the same.

After months of feeling overwhelmed and stressed out, I think I'm beginning to breathe a little lighter and learning to see the little bits of happiness that exist.  No matter how fleeting those moments may be.

Missing Blake always,
Laine

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Where I am today .... 4 years and 3 months later

How fitting is it as I struggle to come up with my first post that there is a project called "Where I am today" in this little part of the web world.   A wonderful idea by Angie at Still Life with Circles.  I'd give you the link but haven't figured out how to do that.  So type it in your address box and I'm sure you can find it.

So, where am I in my grief today?  To answer that, I have to really answer where am I in my life today?  Because it's interwoven.  Some days I'm much better at compartmentalizing my grief, but lately I have come to realize that it cannot be separate.  For who I am today is very much related to that fated day.  There's a domino effect.  And for today, I think I have to say that I'm just a wee bit pissed off.

Don't get me wrong, my days are certainly better than those first few months after Blake died.  They were awful and excruciating and painful.  But it made sense.  How could I be expected to eat, shower or get dressed on a daily basis?  It was "normal" to be a big heap on the floor screaming and sobbing and choking for air.  Leaving a basket full of groceries in the middle of the store because I got overwhelmed when I heard a baby cry, that was okay.  Crying as I passed the baby aisle in Target, okay too.  

Today, I can do those things without exerting so much energy.  But I believe I'm in the minority when I answer nope to the question, "Knowing the outcome, would you do it again?"  The usual answer is along the lines of yes, having him for a short time is better than not at all and he taught me so much and I've become a better person, blah, blah, blah.  Well, I guess I'm shallow because I don't see anything positive about my son's death.  And I've learned nothing that I've cared to learn.  I have knowledge now that personally I'd rather not have.  

Yeah, sure, I have more compassion.  But only when it comes to dying.  I'm definitely less tolerant of people and I wasn't that tolerant before.  Which makes for a very lonely existence.  


I couldn't look in the mirror for a long time.  I didn't recognize myself.  In photographs within the first year, I could see that haunted look in my eyes.  There were three family weddings within the first six months after Blake died.  My sister's was three months after his death and I was the maid of honor.  Just a couple of months ago, at a family gathering they were talking about her wedding.  Her wedding was fabulous.  She had a lovely affair and it was a great party for everyone involved.  Except me.  For me, it was excruciating.  I felt as though there was a knife in my chest the entire day.  As they talked, I said "It was lovely.  It's a shame.  I really wish I could have enjoyed it."  And then I got the look and a few mumbles.  And that's what I'm talking about!  The scarlet letter.  The elephant in the room.  However you want to label it, but you know what I mean.  My dear cousin tried to lighten the mood (cuz you know ... that has to be done, don't you) and said she wished she could have enjoyed it, too.  And everyone chuckled.  Which is hysterical because she was referring to the fact that she was 8 MONTHS PREGNANT!  (And yes, he will be celebrating his living fourth birthday next month.)


Even without her humorous statement (and yes, that's sarcasm dripping) just that one scenario shows how wide the gap is.  How vast the differences are in perception, experience and attitude between them and me, the dead baby mom.  I don't look back on her wedding day fondly.  I'm sure all 200 guests do.  I look back and remember just how awful it was.  How much energy it took.  I'm crying now as I remember.  I was the only bridesmaid who got her hair done by her own stylist instead of the one my sister hired.  I was the only one who did her own makeup.  I was the only one who got dressed at home instead of at the hotel.  I was the only one who could barely breathe throughout the day.  And right now, I'm pissed!  I'm pissed that that was taken away from me. 

I'm pissed that when playing a trivia game with friends last week that I knew "the Day of the Dead" is the name of the celebration in Mexico at the beginning of November.  I only knew the answer because of the online support group I belong to.  I would gladly lose my turn to not have that knowledge.


I'm pissed that I still falter when answering how many kids do I have.   I'm pissed that it has to be such a tricky question.


For my three kids here on earth, I am grateful.  I do cherish them.  I'm still surprised K and S are here.  But there's that wide gap again.  Which is so evident when dealing with other mothers.  My worries and fears concerning my children are way different than theirs. 


I'm just pissed that he isn't here.  That I wasn't given the chance to know him.  To feed him and cuddle him and to see what kind of man he'd turn out to be.  I just miss him!  And my heart is still broken.


I thought it would get better as time passed.  In some ways it has.  It certainly is easier to function.  But in other ways, I think it gets harder.  In ways that are more invisible and less easier to put my finger on.  I'm not sure how to fix this.  Or if it can be fixed.


Today, four years and three months later .... I'm sad.  I'm fragile.  I'm fearful.  I'm bitter.  And I don't like it.  It hasn't always been like this.  Only in the last few months have I been feeling like this.  I'm not sure what factors have a hand in this.  Certainly, my mother's sudden death a year ago.  Now I'm an orphan as well as a bereaved mom.  The birth of my son, S, six months ago.  The sleep deprivation.  Me being a stay at home mom for the first time. 


I know, this too shall pass.  But for right now, at this moment, this is where I am in my grief.  In my life.


Missing Blake always,
Laine

Friday, June 3, 2011

Welcome to the blog world

I have finally done it.  After months of procrastinating, I have finally set up a blog.  Yeh!