The Ugly Monster

Anger...

It has a way of creeping up out of nowhere and rearing it's ugly head. Every grief book I've read and every website I've visited talks about anger. And yet, no one likes to talk about it. In my head I know that most of my anger is unfounded, but it seems I can still find many things to be angry about lately...

Anger at the hospital...things I wish had been done differently during those last few days. For all the time in Toronto...putting Noah through that major surgery, only to have him die two weeks after we get home. It all just seems like such a waste.

Anger at the system...at the speech therapist who called the other day to begin therapy with Noah...something I had been fighting for years to get and could never make any headway. Or for the letter we opened last week from the geneticist at Sick Kids, requesting further bloodwork on Noah.

Anger at myself...for not being a perfect mother...for making mistakes.

Anger at those around me...for calling...for not calling...for trying to "fix" me...or not saying anything at all...for being able to move forward, while I am stuck in the past.

And yes, anger at God...for allowing this all to happen...for not stepping in and saving the day after all my pleading...for not answering the "why's". For the unfairness of it all...

I appreciate these words from The Compassionate Friends website which helps me put things into perspective...

"Anger is but one of many emotional reactions to the painful reality of death. It is important to recognize anger as a natural, human response. If we can allow ourselves to be aggravated, irritated, even angered, by relatively minor life disappointments, we are certainly entitled to feel angry when faced with one of life's most devastating experiences — the death of a child. Anger is not chosen, however, whether to remain angry, to refuse to surrender it or to resolve it ....is a choice."

It's a nasty emotion...this ugly monster...

I don't choose anger...but still it finds me.

I can see how easy it would be to allow myself to drown in it for awhile...to remain in that place. Thankfully, the moments of intense anger are fleeting, and end up overpowered by huge waves of grief, leaving a great empty sadness in it's wake.

Hold My Heart

"...One tear in the driving rain,

One voice in a sea of pain

Could the maker of the stars

Hear the sound of my breaking heart?

One life, that's all I am

Right now I can barely stand

If You're everything You say You are

Would You come close and hold my heart..."

Tenth Avenue North

Hold My Heart

Halloween

Another holiday usually spent in hospital...

It is still so odd to be home for all of these things...to know there is not an ER visit lurking around the corner. As frustrating as it was to spend so many of these moments away from home, it pales in comparison to this...this gaping hole left by our little Tigger this year. So many of our precious memories are wrapped up in the hospital. And days like this, I find myself missing the place and the people who worked so hard to help us make wonderful memories there.

And so we try our best to make new memories...but we all feel the longing for the part of us that will always be missing...Our special "Tigger" pumpkin...

3 Months

I still have absolutely no idea how to live without my boy.

I miss him more each day.

And yet time marches on...

God's Garden

God looked around his garden
And found an empty place
He then looked down upon the earth
And saw your tired face.
He knew that you were suffering
He knew you were in pain
He knew that you would never
Get well on earth again.
He saw the road was getting rough
And the hills were hard to climb.
So he closed your weary eyelids
And whispered ‘Peace be Thine’.
He put his arms around you
And lifted you to rest.
God’s garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
It broke our hearts to loose you
But you didn’t go alone,
For part of us went with you
That day God called you home.
Anonymous

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is upon us...

...a holiday that we always seemed to spend within the walls of the hospital. For that reason, we have not really had much Thanksgiving celebration for years. And so it feels very strange to be at home today. This year we have decided to lay low once again and opt out of the traditional Thanksgiving activities.


I have to admit, I am having a difficult time mustering up a thankful heart this year.

It is hard to be thankful when all that surrounds me are reminders everything I no longer have. It is much easier to feel bitterness, anger and self pity.

But I am trying...


I know that today is not about feeling thankful...rather it is about a choice I have. A choice that does not come easy...a choice that must be made over and over again.


But with God's grace, and through the tears, I am reminded of all the blessings my Heavenly Father has given me. I have a wonderful husband, some very special friends, two amazing children here on earth, and I was blessed to be Noah's earthly mother, even if for only a short time...blessed with so many beautiful memories to treasure. And for that, I can be thankful.

The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears.

John Vance Cheney

Noah, did you know I needed to see this yesterday??

Normal

Strange, how in the eyes of those who do not know, our family now looks so "normal" on the outside.

I feel anything but normal...

I'm beginning to think our society has this grief thing all wrong. The first few days of grief is so public. Then the funeral is over and everyone goes home and gets back to their own lives. The cards, phone calls and visits become fewer and fewer. And somehow we are expected to pick up the pieces and begin to move on from this place.

But loss changes a person. I am different...forever changed. And I have yet to know what to do with that.

I am beginning to understand why other cultures wear mourning clothes, or noticable items to identify themselves as a bereaved person. The importance of showing others that you have suffered a great loss makes a great deal of sense. Some wear their grief for months...sometimes years. It must make it easier to enter back into society, knowing that there is no need to hide your loss. That everyone knows just with once glance how very fragile you are...that you are a long ways from "normal". And that you can easily identify with others who are also suffering their own losses.

Despite how simple it now is, leaving the comfort of home is difficult these days. Strange to have nothing to pack up...no appointments, meds, feeds or TPN to plan around. Strange to be out in public and not have the looks or the questions...no strangers drawn to us by Noah's contagious smiles. The normalacy of it all screams in my ears...oh how I miss it!

Two Months

Time is now measured by the weeks and months since Noah's death...

It's been two months...I am still so very, very lost.

I miss you Noah.

Small Talk

Small talk...

I hate it.

Lately it seems like such a waste of time and I am no longer very good at those types of social situations. Putting on the mask, and pretending to care about nothing...when all that consumes my mind is Noah.

Last week, while making the obligatory small talk with a stranger, the question came up..."How many children do you have?"

I knew that would come up sooner or later. But, wow...I was definately not prepared for it. My heart dropped and I stumbled over my words, not knowing what to say. Do I say 2? Or do I say 3 and leave it at that? There really is no answer that sounds right. In the end, I said 2, but it was difficult to say anything else after that.

Afterwards, I couldn't stop thinking about it...how terribly wrong that sounded...how guilty I felt for saying it. And how much I wanted to blurt out that I had 3 children, and my son just recently died. How much I wanted her to know how her very innocent question had hurt me.

What a conversation killer that would have been.

I hate small talk.