There is a lot of information in this post, so just be prepared.
This week has been emotionally and physically exhausting. Here are a few things to note:
1.) The doctor's office needs to put a label or flag on my file. I am not depressed due to life, I am depressed because my Cora had to leave. I don't need a 'booklet' on depression...thank you very much.
2.) People are jerks. Either some of the guys that work at the cemetery are jerks...or people that have visited the cemetery are jerks. I placed two butterfly solar lights and a butterfly that flapped its wings in the breeze by Cora's plot. When I stopped on Monday, one solar light was missing, and all that I could find of the butterfly, was a wing under the bush by Cora's plot. Yeah. Heartbroken.
3.) On the same day that I stopped at the cemetery, I got a call from the mortuary. Cora's headstone is in. It was going to be set in cement and then we'll see it get placed, hopefully this coming week.
Thursday, I had a doctor's appointment. Can I just say that I *heart* my doctor?? And sadly, she's only temporary. That makes things hard because I know I'll have to start all over again. Relive...every. last. detail. She listened to me. She even took the time to go over the autopsy report on Thursday.
As she went through the results, she drew diagrams of the lungs, heart, liver, and spleen. These things were confirmed: pneumonia, RSV, strep B, and she was in septic shock. As she went over the respiratory system, she noted that there was a puss pocket in the right lung, there was evidence that it was still hemorrhaging, and there was a clot. Basically, she scribbled out the right lung. It was done. She said that the bacteria in her body had started to attack the valves in her heart. The liver had differing kinds of fatty deposits happening due to the infection, as well as the spleen being enlarged...also from infection. There was a blood clot in-between the two hemispheres of her brain, meaning that she had a stroke. There was also the hemorrhage on the brain. Sometimes with this kind of infection, the brain shifts to one side, and hers did just that. She said that there were beginning signs of kidney failure. I knew that they were having trouble with Cora's blood thickening. The ECMO needs a certain consistency of blood in order for it to work properly and they were struggling to keep it thin enough. My doctor told me that *again* sometimes with this amount of infection, the blood can do one of two things...either become thick or become too thin. Cora's was too thick.
Basically when all was said and done, Cora was just very sick. She was one of the healthiest kids and even being as healthy as she was, things could have gone either way. I wish I could say that it brings comfort knowing that things could have gone either way, but it doesn't. My doctor told me to tuck the report away until much later. I'm really not ready to try and read through it with any clarity.
Life keeps marching on and I don't want it to. I want her here. It wasn't meant to be this way. Ever.
And yet...here we are...4 months and 8 days later...still muddling through this thing called life.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Oh Sweet Child
Cora, you had very few things in this life that you cherished. You loved bigger than your age, without boundaries, and beyond what many adults can even fathom.
You never had much of a passion for toys. You did, however, love to be outside. You loved to be on your bike, your scooter, in the wagon, on the swings...wherever your little feet could take you...following closely on the heals of your sister.
With that said, sweet child of mine, I couldn't bring myself to put the one item that brought you the most comfort in this life, in with you at the end.
You would have taken your mimi with you everywhere if I had let you. I did when you were smaller. It was your thumb companion.
I imagine you had beautiful dreams with it close by your side. You covered yourself with it; I covered you with it.
And it was never far away when you were sick. I feel terrible that your mimi made a trip to Phoenix while your big sister was in the hospital, and one of your true comforts, was with me in my car. I didn't realize it until I was headed home with your sister.
The nurses kept it as close to you as they could while you were in the hospital, but you kept spiking a temperature, so they would take it off from you and fold it at the end of your bed.
I'm sorry my sweet Cora, but momma still needs your mimi. It's not far from my bed at night. I cry myself to sleep on it sometimes. I picture in my mind, you snuggled up to it, you on one side and me on the other. I promise to keep it safe. And while your clothes and pictures mean a lot to me, your mimi is that little part of you, that will always keep you close to me.
I love you kid. I miss you so much.
You never had much of a passion for toys. You did, however, love to be outside. You loved to be on your bike, your scooter, in the wagon, on the swings...wherever your little feet could take you...following closely on the heals of your sister.
With that said, sweet child of mine, I couldn't bring myself to put the one item that brought you the most comfort in this life, in with you at the end.
You would have taken your mimi with you everywhere if I had let you. I did when you were smaller. It was your thumb companion.
The nurses kept it as close to you as they could while you were in the hospital, but you kept spiking a temperature, so they would take it off from you and fold it at the end of your bed.
I'm sorry my sweet Cora, but momma still needs your mimi. It's not far from my bed at night. I cry myself to sleep on it sometimes. I picture in my mind, you snuggled up to it, you on one side and me on the other. I promise to keep it safe. And while your clothes and pictures mean a lot to me, your mimi is that little part of you, that will always keep you close to me.
I love you kid. I miss you so much.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
The "H" Word
I have been thinking about the "h" word a lot lately. I already asked my friend, who is the queen of everything fall/holiday related, to share some of her umph with me. She lovingly reminded me that I need to take one day at a time. But darn it, I'm having a hard time not looking ahead, not looking at what looms on the horizon, and what will be knocking on my doorstep in just a matter of months.
You see, this coming Wednesday, my 'kids' start back...that is, my classroom full of preschoolers. And once that happens, life will get just a bit busier. If you think on it a bit more, there's exactly two, yes two weeks left in the month of August. Then it will be Labor Day. Then blink a few more times and the "h's" start.
What is this "h" word that I speak of? It is the holidays. You know as well as I do that come mid to late September, the stores will start stocking the Christmas stuff right next to the Halloween stuff. Never mind the fact that Thanksgiving *that holiday that we give thanks for the blessings in our lives...and maybe some of the other things too* is in the middle of those two holidays. Okay, I'm backing off my soap box now.
Let me tell you a wee secret. The beans were spilled with my oldest daughter a little over a year ago on all things. No Santa and no Easter Bunny. *Sniffle* The amazing thing was that I still had two children who believed wholeheartedly in both. Sweet! Only, now I'm missing a piece of that equation.
Remember that friend that said to take one day at a time? She suggested that I include Cora in some way. So...my brain has been working on that.
We always carve pumpkins for Halloween. So, instead of carving one for Cora, we'll decorate one...with markers, material, stickers...whatever it is the girls want to put on there. We'll then take it over to the cemetery. I think for Thanksgiving, we'll set an empty place for Cora, so that we can remember her. And for Christmas? Aside from remember that the real reason for the season is Christ, we will be lighting a candle for her, hanging her stocking, putting up her ornaments, and possibly doing something at the cemetery. I do have three solar powered Christmas trees that might just work since they won't have to be doing any mowing if there is snow on the ground.
Of course, I still have time before any of these hit, but she was still young enough that these things were fun for her. She enjoyed dressing up for Halloween. She loved looking for Sylvester our elf. Her little light, was joy the of the holidays. I'm not saying that my 7 year old doesn't have the light, but there's nothing quite like the joy of a littler person around the holidays. It's what makes putting up the decorations, listening to the music, the baking and decorating of cookies, the long nights of wrapping presents from all the various relatives, and all the other little things...worthwhile.
Maybe now that I've thought about it, preplanned it, dissected it...ruminated about it...I might...might be able to put it on the back burner for now.
For now.
Until tomorrow...
when it all begins again.
You see, this coming Wednesday, my 'kids' start back...that is, my classroom full of preschoolers. And once that happens, life will get just a bit busier. If you think on it a bit more, there's exactly two, yes two weeks left in the month of August. Then it will be Labor Day. Then blink a few more times and the "h's" start.
What is this "h" word that I speak of? It is the holidays. You know as well as I do that come mid to late September, the stores will start stocking the Christmas stuff right next to the Halloween stuff. Never mind the fact that Thanksgiving *that holiday that we give thanks for the blessings in our lives...and maybe some of the other things too* is in the middle of those two holidays. Okay, I'm backing off my soap box now.
Let me tell you a wee secret. The beans were spilled with my oldest daughter a little over a year ago on all things. No Santa and no Easter Bunny. *Sniffle* The amazing thing was that I still had two children who believed wholeheartedly in both. Sweet! Only, now I'm missing a piece of that equation.
Remember that friend that said to take one day at a time? She suggested that I include Cora in some way. So...my brain has been working on that.
We always carve pumpkins for Halloween. So, instead of carving one for Cora, we'll decorate one...with markers, material, stickers...whatever it is the girls want to put on there. We'll then take it over to the cemetery. I think for Thanksgiving, we'll set an empty place for Cora, so that we can remember her. And for Christmas? Aside from remember that the real reason for the season is Christ, we will be lighting a candle for her, hanging her stocking, putting up her ornaments, and possibly doing something at the cemetery. I do have three solar powered Christmas trees that might just work since they won't have to be doing any mowing if there is snow on the ground.
Of course, I still have time before any of these hit, but she was still young enough that these things were fun for her. She enjoyed dressing up for Halloween. She loved looking for Sylvester our elf. Her little light, was joy the of the holidays. I'm not saying that my 7 year old doesn't have the light, but there's nothing quite like the joy of a littler person around the holidays. It's what makes putting up the decorations, listening to the music, the baking and decorating of cookies, the long nights of wrapping presents from all the various relatives, and all the other little things...worthwhile.
Maybe now that I've thought about it, preplanned it, dissected it...ruminated about it...I might...might be able to put it on the back burner for now.
For now.
Until tomorrow...
when it all begins again.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Something Like That
I originally created this blog *in addition to my other two* for a place to write and express myself. I hadn't done it in so long, that I felt as though I had lost a little piece of myself. I really began writing back in the early 90s as I entered high school. I didn't enjoy high school *sorry alumni that may be reading this*. It was awful tolerable on most days. I enjoyed being around the teachers who seemed to 'get me.' Maybe that's why I was voted teacher's pet my senior year in high school. At any rate, I think at my age, I'd gladly say that I was a teacher's pet. Not because I brown-nosed spent a lot of time trying to get them to do things for me, but because of the emotional boost I received from them on a daily basis. I also had a close group of friends those last couple of high school years and somehow...out of all of us...there are only two or three of us that still communicate. Life has taken us in all directions.
So, when all else failed and I really needed someone to hear me, I would write. Oftentimes, my writing was more of a prayer...begging God to hear me. Even now, I'm begging him to hear me. "Please God...please...heal my broken heart!" "Not yet. Not yet my child." I'm sure he's polishing my heart. He has a cloth that is slightly abrasive, but soft all at the same time. He's running it over and over my heart. Most days, it feels more abrasive than soft, but there are those other days where I feel the softness of the cloth, soothing my soul.
I've often said that we all have friendships, a circle of friends, much like Jesus did. You have your acquaintances, the people you know by name, but they're not people who you share every morsel of your life with. Then there are friends that you spend a lot of time with, but you still don't share every detail of your life with them. We're getting closer here. Just outside the inner circle are some special friends. They may know quite a bit about your life, but you may hold on to a few pieces of yourself. And well...then there's this inner circle. It's a few select friends that know you down to the dirty stuff. They may even know you well enough to know what your mood is without even asking.
And well...it gets to be a bit like this:
I have been really blessed with friends. I'd say that I have quite a few between the 'special' circle and that inner circle.
I also believe that we have friends in seasons. Those close friends I spoke of that I had in high school? That was a season. Some friends come and camp out in the season called life. Some come and go. Others come in later in life and camp out in life. And even more still, were there when you were young...seemingly 'vanished' and then just as suddenly as they 'vanished'...they reappear in a more supportive role.
In all of this, I have been shown what tremendous friendships I have. I have friends who are willing to drop into the mud with me. After listening to the UT commencement speech for 2014, these are just a couple of things I learned about friends *may be my own wording*:
So, when all else failed and I really needed someone to hear me, I would write. Oftentimes, my writing was more of a prayer...begging God to hear me. Even now, I'm begging him to hear me. "Please God...please...heal my broken heart!" "Not yet. Not yet my child." I'm sure he's polishing my heart. He has a cloth that is slightly abrasive, but soft all at the same time. He's running it over and over my heart. Most days, it feels more abrasive than soft, but there are those other days where I feel the softness of the cloth, soothing my soul.
I've often said that we all have friendships, a circle of friends, much like Jesus did. You have your acquaintances, the people you know by name, but they're not people who you share every morsel of your life with. Then there are friends that you spend a lot of time with, but you still don't share every detail of your life with them. We're getting closer here. Just outside the inner circle are some special friends. They may know quite a bit about your life, but you may hold on to a few pieces of yourself. And well...then there's this inner circle. It's a few select friends that know you down to the dirty stuff. They may even know you well enough to know what your mood is without even asking.
And well...it gets to be a bit like this:
I also believe that we have friends in seasons. Those close friends I spoke of that I had in high school? That was a season. Some friends come and camp out in the season called life. Some come and go. Others come in later in life and camp out in life. And even more still, were there when you were young...seemingly 'vanished' and then just as suddenly as they 'vanished'...they reappear in a more supportive role.
In all of this, I have been shown what tremendous friendships I have. I have friends who are willing to drop into the mud with me. After listening to the UT commencement speech for 2014, these are just a couple of things I learned about friends *may be my own wording*:
- Find people to help you paddle. When you're in the boat, struggling through the waves of life, you need friends who won't quit paddling with you.
- All it takes is the hope of one person. Just one person. When you're up to your neck in mud and life just seems far too overwhelming...start singing. Before you know it, others will join in...loving you through it, making life more bearable.
- It's not the size of your flippers, but the size of your heart *more his words*. You need to respect everyone.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Calling Out
I am screaming. I am calling out. Can you hear me? I'm pouring out my soul. Every last ounce of my being is laid out before you. Can you see it? And yet, I am pulling away. Drawing back into myself...into a place where life is as it should be.
What is this place? Where life is as it should be? Nothing is familiar here. There is a darkness that looms. It is so thick that I can't see. There is no visible light. No path to find. Others have been in this place, but their footsteps go in all different directions.
The darkness is getting thicker. I am getting down on my hands and knees. I'm crawling aimlessly, searching for something that is remotely familiar, but there is nothing. There is pain coming from all around, but there is no one thing that I can say is causing it.
I don't want anyone in this place with me. It's an awful place. A place no one should ever have to enter.
I call out again. I am screaming. Crying. I am begging for you to hear me.
And all at once I realize...you can't hear even the slightest sound of my cries...because they are all within my mind. I keep retreating back into my mind because I don't want you to feel what I feel. I don't feel as though I deserve to be loved. Or to be held.
It's these moments...these moments of quiet distance...when I seem resistant to being close...that I need you to pull me close, no matter how much I struggle, put your hand through my hair and whisper that you love me.
What is this place? Where life is as it should be? Nothing is familiar here. There is a darkness that looms. It is so thick that I can't see. There is no visible light. No path to find. Others have been in this place, but their footsteps go in all different directions.
The darkness is getting thicker. I am getting down on my hands and knees. I'm crawling aimlessly, searching for something that is remotely familiar, but there is nothing. There is pain coming from all around, but there is no one thing that I can say is causing it.
I don't want anyone in this place with me. It's an awful place. A place no one should ever have to enter.
I call out again. I am screaming. Crying. I am begging for you to hear me.
And all at once I realize...you can't hear even the slightest sound of my cries...because they are all within my mind. I keep retreating back into my mind because I don't want you to feel what I feel. I don't feel as though I deserve to be loved. Or to be held.
It's these moments...these moments of quiet distance...when I seem resistant to being close...that I need you to pull me close, no matter how much I struggle, put your hand through my hair and whisper that you love me.
Just Another Day
So back at the end of May, I ended up at the cemetery to see my baby. As you can imagine, I sat and sobbed. There aren't a whole lot of times where I end up at the cemetery and remain dry eyed, even now. The day I was there, happened to be beautiful and sunny. My 7yo and I had taken a pinwheel over for Cora prior to that day. The way the sun was shining and coming through the trees, made me realize that we had made the perfect choice on where she should be.
I snapped this picture:
Later that day, my friend noticed a very interesting thing. If you look closely at the above picture, you can see it even without what she did for me. But, she did this:
If you look towards the right arrow, you can see the profile of my sweet Cora. I find comfort knowing that she's still around me, but it surely doesn't make it any easier.
Today, I'm missing my Cora. I feel off. The big girls start school tomorrow. And I know...it is much needed for all of us. We have had a good summer. There were things that I had wanted to do with the girls, but due to circumstances, just weren't able to make them happen. I'm disappointed, as are the girls. I am hoping though, that once I'm back to work, we will start doing some 'day trips' on the weekends and do things we've never done before.
And then there's that. I have felt ready to get back to work. Until yesterday. The odd thing is that the kids don't start until next week and this week we're getting the classroom ready and doing last minute things *like getting lesson plans done, etc.*
Of course, there is a host of other personal stuff that is going on that is also playing a part in my panic. I am rocking in my rocking chair, but it sure isn't going anywhere. I mean, the worry that I have isn't contributing to life and is just making things increasingly difficult.
So, as I step back into the 'real' world...pray *or send up positive thoughts* that I am able to find enough distraction to make the days go by quickly and that I'm not presented with lots of apologies as the new year begins.
I snapped this picture:
Today, I'm missing my Cora. I feel off. The big girls start school tomorrow. And I know...it is much needed for all of us. We have had a good summer. There were things that I had wanted to do with the girls, but due to circumstances, just weren't able to make them happen. I'm disappointed, as are the girls. I am hoping though, that once I'm back to work, we will start doing some 'day trips' on the weekends and do things we've never done before.
And then there's that. I have felt ready to get back to work. Until yesterday. The odd thing is that the kids don't start until next week and this week we're getting the classroom ready and doing last minute things *like getting lesson plans done, etc.*
Of course, there is a host of other personal stuff that is going on that is also playing a part in my panic. I am rocking in my rocking chair, but it sure isn't going anywhere. I mean, the worry that I have isn't contributing to life and is just making things increasingly difficult.
So, as I step back into the 'real' world...pray *or send up positive thoughts* that I am able to find enough distraction to make the days go by quickly and that I'm not presented with lots of apologies as the new year begins.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Noah and Storms
We headed to church on Sunday and I am so thankful that we did. I've heard a lot of sermons in the last several months, but the one on Sunday, really hit home.
It's a series...on storms. Storms in our lives. We may all be living in our own personal storm, but my personal storm is losing my sweet Cora. The pastor talked about Noah and his ark. She asked us if we had really thought about Noah sitting on the ark. I mean, we know that it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Then Noah sat on the boat for another 150 days.
So let's think about this for a bit...even if you're not religious. Forty days. Forty nights. Nothing but rain. You're sitting on this enormous boat with your family...and...2 of every creature/beast on the earth. If you are like me, beingcooped cozied up with my family for 40...yes FORTY days and nights in a huge boat...things could get mighty dicey. Then tack on the fact that your boat is also loaded up with animals. AND you get to just sit there on the water, in the boat, with your family...and the animals for another 150 days?? Yeah wow! And Noah? He was wondering where God was in it all.
I'm pretty sure that I'm a bit like Noah right now. Only, I'm not on a boat, it hasn't been raining for 40 days/nights, and I'm not stuck with a boatload *literally* of animals and my family.
I do know though, that the rain and waves still come. In the off times, I'm sitting on the boat with no waves and in that 150 day period, wondering where God is in it all.
I've talked about that dreaded 'what-if' monster before. And apparently, as a grieving parent, it's quite normal. I've been swimming in what-ifs quite a bit lately and beating myself up over things that were really out of my control. But as a mom, I want to be able to control everything. I want to be able to do everything I can for my children...make sure they are healthy, eat healthy, and are taken care of. When you lose a child, you feel like you have failed them. That somehow, you weren't able to do exactly what it is you, as a mom, are supposed to do.
And so I question. I blame myself for not being able to be in two places at once. And wonder...where is God in all of it?
Today is Cora's 3 month angelversary and it stings. I talked to my doctor today and as I cried, she told me that everything that I am experiencing, questioning, and fighting is all normal. She also told me that my 'job' of grieving is to be done in community. She compared our 'mourning' here in America to that of other countries where they wail. She believes that we tend to have it a bit backwards. I also think that I tend to hold things back because, well...I feel guilty burdening people with my grief. One of the biggest things she said to do? She said to keep telling stories. Even if I have told the story 29 times...tell it 29 more times.
I miss my Cora...my wash belly *my friend from Jamaica says that it means that the last baby you had in your belly*. And she certainly has held a special place in my heart.
It's a series...on storms. Storms in our lives. We may all be living in our own personal storm, but my personal storm is losing my sweet Cora. The pastor talked about Noah and his ark. She asked us if we had really thought about Noah sitting on the ark. I mean, we know that it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Then Noah sat on the boat for another 150 days.
So let's think about this for a bit...even if you're not religious. Forty days. Forty nights. Nothing but rain. You're sitting on this enormous boat with your family...and...2 of every creature/beast on the earth. If you are like me, being
I'm pretty sure that I'm a bit like Noah right now. Only, I'm not on a boat, it hasn't been raining for 40 days/nights, and I'm not stuck with a boatload *literally* of animals and my family.
I do know though, that the rain and waves still come. In the off times, I'm sitting on the boat with no waves and in that 150 day period, wondering where God is in it all.
I've talked about that dreaded 'what-if' monster before. And apparently, as a grieving parent, it's quite normal. I've been swimming in what-ifs quite a bit lately and beating myself up over things that were really out of my control. But as a mom, I want to be able to control everything. I want to be able to do everything I can for my children...make sure they are healthy, eat healthy, and are taken care of. When you lose a child, you feel like you have failed them. That somehow, you weren't able to do exactly what it is you, as a mom, are supposed to do.
And so I question. I blame myself for not being able to be in two places at once. And wonder...where is God in all of it?
Today is Cora's 3 month angelversary and it stings. I talked to my doctor today and as I cried, she told me that everything that I am experiencing, questioning, and fighting is all normal. She also told me that my 'job' of grieving is to be done in community. She compared our 'mourning' here in America to that of other countries where they wail. She believes that we tend to have it a bit backwards. I also think that I tend to hold things back because, well...I feel guilty burdening people with my grief. One of the biggest things she said to do? She said to keep telling stories. Even if I have told the story 29 times...tell it 29 more times.
I miss my Cora...my wash belly *my friend from Jamaica says that it means that the last baby you had in your belly*. And she certainly has held a special place in my heart.
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