Amplified Grief

I'm going to start this post by defining the word 'amplified' by using the first definition of the root word 'amplify' from dictionary.com:  to make larger, greater, or stronger; enlarge; extend.  So, how, might you ask, is your grief being amplified?

Well, as my grief still yet lingers over my sweet Cora leaving this earth, another dearest of my loves will be joining her...far too soon for me.

There is this woman who has been a part of my life since before my birth.  She's been there to nurture me just as much as my mother.  She has always been firm, but loving.  She is if nothing else, to the point.  There's no beating around the bush with her.  

There were sleepovers.  She made clothes for us.  She can cook and bake like no other...and she whistles while she does it.

As I got older, she went to school 'Open House' with me as my mom went with my sister and my dad had to work.  She attended my performances, my parades, my graduations.  She made beautiful dresses for every occasion.  

She made my wedding gown...the girls' dresses...and oh how she toiled...hand-sewing every bead onto the lace.  She was one of the first people I called when I found out I was expecting my first.  And my second.  And my third.

When we moved to Arizona, she came to visit.  She came and helped me when I dislocated my shoulder.  She looked after my children on her own.  She has sewn for them too.  She has taken us in while the girls and I stayed in NY for 3 weeks visiting friends and family.

It goes beyond all of that.  I've called her when I needed help with a recipe, when I've been working on some kind of sewing project, wanted to know how to get xyz out of a pair of pants/shorts/etc.  I've called to talk to her about everything in my life.  For quite some time, I managed to call her every day.  Every.  Day.  Full-time work and a 3 hour time difference has made my 'ritual' slack a little, but I call her at least every Saturday.

When her husband passed away 3 days before my 2nd daughter was born, I couldn't imagine any grief worse than losing him. Then, she came out here last year to help me with the girls.  And 8 days after she got here, my baby passed.  The sheer grief, angst, and devastation that rocked her while she was here, caused her to have a stroke.  I thought I was going to lose her then.  I couldn't bear to think about losing her in the same year as my Cora.  I just couldn't.  

And now, I'm faced with it.  I'm still not able to bear it.  Heck...I'm still grieving my Cora.  And while I know she's lived a good life and she's 83...I'm not quite ready to let her go.

Who is this woman?  She is my grandmother.  She is the one I call Nana. 

100 Words

I have thought about this post, started this post, and waited to post it.  I have seen something in regards to 50 or 100 words that describe the loss of your mother, but sadly, I wasn't able to find a post that spoke about the loss of a child.  Maybe the 100 words is different for each parent and thus it is difficult to convey.  In any case, I have compiled a list of 100 words that describe the feelings I have felt, the way in which losing Cora has changed my life, my overall demeanor, or the overall feeling of losing my child. 

Here they are:

1. lonely
2. painful
3. unjust
4. depressing
5. hurtful
6. agony
7. gripping
8. tiring
9. stressful
10. unimaginable
11. powerful
12. unthinkable
13. unfathomable
14. gut-wrenching
15. penetrating
16. humbling
17. suffocating
18. heartbreaking
19. anger
20. doubt
21. questioning
22. self-reflection
23. shaken
24. crushed
25. untouchable
26. vulnerable
27. scared
28. bereaved
29. squashed
30. inconsolable
31. bereft
32. deprived
33. lost
34. self-absorbed
35. focused
36. hypersensitive
37. inconceivable
38. angst
39. broken
40. self-deprecating
41. unfortunate
42. unfair
43. devastating
44. life-changing
45. anguish
46. frustration
47. disappointment
48. despair
49. irritable
50. irritated
51. alone
52. outcast
53. self-centered
54. disbelief
55. unsure
56. apprehensive
57. isolated
58. empty
59. forgotten
60. jaded
61. mind-blowing
62. negative
63. piercing
64. quiet
65. rough
66. sick
67. tested
68. victim
69. wronged
70. weary
71. zapped
72. yearning
73. pessimistic
74. exhausted
75. turbulent
76. lackluster
77. incapable
78. incapacitating
79. incomplete
80. blasé
81. riddled
82. sour
83. grumpy
84. spent
85. dead
86. fractured
87. wounded
88. worthless
89. needy
90. restless
91. reserved
92. comatose
93. bleak
94. tender
95. frightened
96. boggled
97. overwhelming
98. vexed
99. edgy
100. doom

Tucking It Away

So, I began my new job by heading off to a training in Phoenix this week.  When I went in for the interview initially, I never mentioned losing a child as part of the reason we moved to this area.  I don't like starting a conversation like this, "Hi!  My name is Kati and I lost my daughter 1 year, 2 months and 19 days ago.  It's so great to meet you!"  So, as is often the case, it stays tucked in my heart where it is safe.

There have been moments while working at Home Depot where someone has commented on my necklace and asked what it meant.  And, depending on the day, it will depend on how I respond.  There are some days where the tears well up in my eyes and I tearfully explain that my 4 year old daughter passed away last year.  Often times, it's a God thing because the people that I share that with are empathetic.  I of course feel bad and instantly apologize for unleashing the 'grief' on an unsuspecting stranger.  There are those very rare days when I am able to not tear up.  Again, those are rare.

There have also been those moments at Home Depot where people have asked what I was doing before moving down to this area.  When I respond with, "I was teaching preschool" they often think I'm completely off my rocker somewhat insane for leaving a job such as that to work for Home Depot.  When I give a little back story and...depending on the person, I explain that my daughter passed away last year, the typical response is *gasp* "Oh Kati no!  I would never have known that about you.  What happened?"  *insert the sniffles...and the story as time/customers allow*

So, as is much the fashion with working at Home Depot, I encounter similar things like that at this training.  I ended up sharing this piece of information with my main team and with my roommate *poor girl*.  I pulled this out of my heart so much this week that it started to pain me.  Greatly.  It has left that part of my heart raw and tender...again.  I put my head down on my pillow Thursday night in a very uncomfortable luxurious bed and silently cried myself to sleep.

In the course of the week, I had carefully unpacked the hurt from my heart, and put it on like a long-sleeved shirt.  If you saw my status on FB this week, one of the 1st/2nd grade team members started sharing photos of her children.  She says, "And this is my baby."  At this point, I was neatly tucked into an impossible to escape seating arrangement.  My eyes welled with tears as I fought to control all of that raw emotion that was on the cusp of erupting from my very soul.  I wanted to pull up the picture of my baby...my Cora..and in a very matter of fact way state, "Hey!  This is my baby.  This is Coraline.  She passed away last year at the age of 4." 

This isn't the picture I had with my FB status, but you get the idea.

So now that it is the weekend, I am carefully repacking all of that raw emotion.  I'm folding it neatly, creating crisp folds, and putting a note on it that says, "Last taken out on..."

In reality, I miss this face.  I miss this kid.  I miss her personality.  What would she be like now?  Would she be excited about kindergarten??

Oh sweet child...you are still loved.  We all love you and miss you...daily.

Spot On Pixar

I'm not touting Pixar films, nor do I work for them...earn money from them...etc.  I am simply a mom who took her children to the movies today, on opening day, to see "Inside Out."  And, I also happen to be a mother who has lost a child.

First, I have to say that it is well done.  It really hits home on so many levels, much like some of their other films that they've done in the last several years.

Without giving too much of the movie away, we often only want the joyful days/times in our lives.  They are built up and built up over time.  Those memories are tucked away...stored as joyful times, sad times, fearful times, angry times...and for a time, they don't seem to get muddied.  They are one type of emotion.

At some point or another, life happens...things happen...and well...I lost my child.  All of my happy memories of her have been tinted by sadness...because she's gone!  That joyful memory has forever been changed.

I think that the further out I am from the day of Cora's passing, the easier it will be for the memories to be both a joyful one and a sad one, but often times now, it pains me. 

Yes, I sat in the movie theater and cried a couple of times.  Just for noticing that small truth in memories.  And yes, I would recommend the movie.  It was beautifully done.

It will surely be a memory that you will tuck away yourself.

Finding Me

I have to find a little piece of me, in a corner of every day.  I still don't know who I am or what my purpose is exactly.  I don't like not knowing.

I have always been a very put together type of person.  No one saw the pain I was in for essentially half of my life.  Yes, there were bright spots.  Three of the brightest spots are three beautifully different girls.  And with having children and a household, came a budget to help keep it all running smoothly.

I had meals planned for each night of the week.  I had activities, doctor's appointments, and various other things listed on the calendar.  I had it t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r.

That all came to a screeching halt.  A very abrupt halt.  A startling halt...on May 6th of last year.

Everything that I had held together so nicely for so long, all began to unravel.  The messiness of my life was so evident.  My neat and organized life, was not so neat and organized.

I still can't meal plan.  I fly by the seat of my pants.  Whatever sounds good, is what gets pulled out of the freezer for the night.  Most nights, we're looking at each other going, "What do you want for dinner tonight?"  Ugh.

Budgeting has always sucked, but I hate it a lot more now.  This always seemed a bit on the 'easier' side, but it takes a great deal more effort to figure it out now.

I always thought I knew what I wanted with my life, and now it seems impossible to figure out.  Mundane has been good for the last couple of months, but I yearn for something more.

If I think deeply enough about this...I have to realize that God is really just causing me to hand everything over to Him.  And I just don't want to.  *Insert toddler temper tantrum.*  I need to, but I don't want to.  I'm tired and I don't want to have control over it all.  He's got a better handle on it than I do.  So, why can't I just let go? Stubbornness I suppose.

And yet, day after day, I get up and do it all again...questioning my every move and every decision.  It's not easy, but it sure would be a lot easier if I'd just...






...let go.

I'm Sorry...

...but I'm not sorry.

Please don't get me wrong, I am truly happy for your child being able to...

• ride their bike on just two wheels
• tie their shoes
• write their name
• *insert any number of firsts at the preschool age* 

Maybe I am jealous.

Deflated.

Crushed.

Robbed.

Or maybe I am angry.  I'm not angry at you.  I'm just angry at the unfairness.

In 55 days, she would have been going to kindergarten.

And in some ways, I have been robbed.  I haven't been robbed of material things, but of a life that I had grown and nurtured for over 4 years...nearly 5 years if you go by the time of conception.

Numerous hospitalizations.  Vomiting that seemed to have no end.  All in an effort to keep both me and this precious little girl healthy until it was time to take of her on the outside.

I took care of this little girl, with the best of my ability for 4 years, 1 month and 10 days until I had to hand her over to the care of the professionals.  And even then, I stood by in a supporting role for another 8 days.  All for what???  To have her yanked from my arms...to lose every last first I had hoped to see with her...to cheer her on...to push her to attain....to support her in everything she tried.

So, if you don't know me real well and I say something to the effect of, "Enjoy that last...xyz" it's not because I'm trying to make you feel bad.  It's because I yearn to have that last xyz with my Cora.  Cherish those moments with your babies.  Love them like it's the last day you'll get to spend with them.  Relish in the memories that you get to make with your children this summer instead of wishing it away.

So in all things...I am sorry, but yet...I'm not.

Retreating Into Myself

There are some days when you can just tell that you should have stayed in bed.  Today has been one of those days.  I got up and got the girls off to school, but by the time I got home, the panic/anxiety started to set in.  This usually leads to my extreme quietness and overall unhappy demeanor.  No one has done anything to me.  I'm not angry at anyone.  I'm just off.  Just down.

We started attending a new church last week and we have been working our way into the different activities that are available to us.  Sunday, both girls were able to attend their respective 'classes' during the worship service.  Grace came out saying, "The flood was really instantaneous?  People died just like that?"  Yes.  The flood happened.  The only one that was prepared was Noah and his family.  That was an interesting conversation.

On Wednesday, we went to church again.  The girls went their separate ways.  Grace was off to youth and Rae got to participate in a girls only class.  Grace came out raving about her time.  They played the music obnoxiously really loud and it made her stomach flutter...which was AWESOME.  She loved it!

Rae wrote something on her paper that she'd worked on.  I looked at it and she said, "You'll probably not understand what it says."  I read it out loud and she said, "No."  She then proceeded to say, "God can save people.  He could have saved Cora, but He didn't."  I tried to explain to her that God needed her in heaven more than we needed her here on earth. "No mom.  He could have saved her.  But, he didn't."  Oh sob.  Oh child...if only it were that simple.  And if only I could help you understand it.

She is so black and white.  Cut and dry. 

Since we moved here, she has really begun to miss her sister.  It is very evident.  She is missing her buddy.  There is a whole new learning curve for her.

So...I'm left trying to figure out how to minister to my girls' hearts.  I often think they're lost on this journey, much like I am. 

It's a roller coaster and I can only hope that people can understand my quietness...my retreating...because I can't survive without it.