Being A Mom

When I first found out I was going to become a mom for the first time, I was shocked and scared.

I had done some babysitting off and on, but mainly with older children.  I did babysit for a family who used cloth diapers and that was a fun experience trying to get the pin in without poking the poor kiddo.  Then when I stood him up...yeah...the diaper didn't stay on.

The whole baby thing?  It was completely foreign to me.  Diapers, clothing a docile squirming baby, feeding a baby...I was going to be flying by the seat of my pants!  There was *and is* no 'owners manual' for babies.

You can plan for baby until you're blue *or pink* in the face, but life tends to throw curve balls at you left and right.

I'm going to have my baby the 'right' way and I'm totally having an epidural.

Nope!  Guess again!  Your baby is breech and you'll be having a c-section. 

I'm going to nurse my baby.  This breast feeding thing is a piece of cake, right?

Nope!  Guess again!  Here's a bottle for your baby.

I think when you get used to things not following your 'plan', you start to just let go a little.  Or at least, I did.  I let my kid get dirty.  I wasn't overly protective.

A few years passed and it was time to potty train.  Yet another fun adventure in the life of a mom.  You can get advice from other people, but often...you just wing it.  And somewhere in the process, you end up being pregnant with baby #2.

By the time you have baby #2, you feel very much like a pro.  You've been there and done that already.  You know what to expect.  For me, I knew that another c-section was on my horizon.  I was going to give breast feeding another go.  I was prepared this time!

Some things seem easier with baby #2.  Potty training?  Far easier with #2 than with #1.

Then at some point, you decide to have #3.  While you were sick with #2...you're beyond sick with #3.  Doctor visits, hospital stays, home hydration...OH MY!  I already knew a c-section was again in the wings.  Again...old hat.  I pulled out the punches and went cloth diapers with #3.  We tried breast feeding again and well...it wasn't meant to be.

Along the way, you tweak things.  You try things and when it doesn't work...you try something else.  You use mom-tuition.  You care for your babies.  You'd do just about anything for them.  You read to them, you sing to them, you teach them to recognize their name, recognize their colors, count, pick up, help around the house, and nurture them in every way.

Cora.  She loved to help her momma.  She liked to dump the laundry soap in the washing machine.  She like to push the drawer in on the washing machine.  She liked to push the start button on the washing machine.  She wanted to take the lint fluffy from the dryer to the trash.  She put the wet clothes into the dryer.  She pressed the start button on the dryer. She tried to fold clothes.  She put her own clothes away.

By the time you've had #3, you have been outnumbered for several years.  Life seems to just carry on.  You feed them nutritious meals, wash their clothes, take them outside to play...you know...all of those 'typical' life things for children.

And just by doing what you feel is right for your children, people say that you're a good mom.  As a part of being a 'good mom', you also think that you have somehow ruined them for life.

Then when life hands you a round that is far from expected, you lose all sense of self.  You question everything about who you are and how you are raising your children.  You question your very core.  And yet, life moves on.  Your children continue to grow.  You continue to get up every day only to muddle through new experiences with your older children...wishing that they might revert back to being less mouthy and more like the angels sweet girls they were at the tender age of 4.  They still have their sweet moments, but they've become more grumpy too.  I guess that too, is part of growing up.

When all is said and done...you pick up the pieces and learn how to glue them back together.  Sometimes there is a piece missing and you learn how to pull the other pieces closer and use a bit more glue.

As a mom, that's what we are called to do.

All I Want For Christmas

All I want for Christmas,

can't be bought in any store.

All I want for Christmas,

is a wish for something more.

All I want for Christmas,

is to see your beautiful face.

All I want for Christmas,

is for a simple change in pace.

All I want for Christmas,

is to hear your sweet little voice.

All I want for Christmas,

is to have been given a simple choice.

All I want for Christmas,

is just one more minute; one more day.

All I want for Christmas,

is a wish for another way.

All I want for Christmas,

is for mom's to never grieve.

All I want for Christmas,

is to find an ounce; an ounce of reprieve.

All I want for Christmas,

is to send you all of my love.

All I want for Christmas,

is to know you're happy, with Jesus up above.

All I want for Christmas,

can't be bought in any store.

All I want for Christmas,

is for you to know, I love you even more.

©K. Iannello

December 18, 2014

Holes In My Heart

Growing up, I never knew that you could have holes in your heart or even in your soul for that matter.  The first hole that became evident to me was a God-shaped hole.  After going on Western NY Girls' Chrysalis Flight #1, I realized that even though I had been brought up in the church and had become a member of the church, there was something that was missing.  A piece peace that was missing from my life.  Once that peace was in place, the light emanated from within.  I was a subtle Christian for those who needed it and yet, my light was still evident.

At some point, I thought that I had a love shaped hole in my life.  Marriage and children came along.  The love shaped hole began to fill in.

I read a book today at my training about keeping your bucket full.  It was a children's book.  And while 'bucket dipper' seems a bit over the top, there are some people in life who try to dip into your bucket of joy/happiness/love to attempt to fill their own.  You can equate that to so many things.  A love tank, a feelings bank...whatever your heart desires.

At some points in my life, my love tank was being depleted far faster than I could keep it full or have others add to it.  And as of last year, my tank was empty.  There were little bits being added, but it was never completely full.

Slowly, life has increased the love within my tank, but at the same time...there is yet another hole in my life.

It's a Cora shaped hole.  Sometimes, the hole seems so enormous, it feels like there is nothing left of me.  The snuggler she was, her personality, even her body size...just fit me to a T.  She can never be replaced.  And the hole remains.  Even now, the hole is sore and like a wound open for the world to see.  It is sensitive to touch.  It aches. 

And...there is nothing...not one thing that I can do right now to heal it. 

After a mere 7 months...it still seems like yesterday.  I try to close my eyes and imagine running my hand over her hair...smell the scent of her after she got out of the bathtub.  And tonight, I even thought about pulling her clothes out the drawers and just burying myself in them on my bed.  I miss her pajama clad body...the footies padding down the hallway to my bedroom.  Her little voice coming in to tell me that she had helped find Sylvester our elf.

After 37 years in this life, while I have lost some of my dearest family members...those who I certainly miss because they're gone (yep Papa...I surely do!)...there is nothing so far in this life that can compare to losing Coraline.

My Cora shaped hole will forever be.

Things I Know

I need to be clear with those friends that read my blog.  There are some things I understand and know, but when you're able to explain everything to my heart and have it stick...let me know.

1.  I have undoubtedly been blessed with three beautiful children.  Girls at that.  Each of them a very unique twist of their father and myself.  I have no qualms about just how blessed I am to still have two of my children with me in this life.  And please do not think that I am angry, but a mother who is grieving her child...understands how blessed she is to have other children...if indeed she has other children.

2.  Grieving is unique to each person.  There is one thing I'd like to be clear on.  Please don't compare your grief to anyone else who is experiencing grief.  In this society, we tend to have a convoluted idea of how people should grieve.  There is no right or wrong way.  There is no time limit.  Grief does not need to be hidden.  And again...please don't compare.

 

3.  Please know that not every day is going to be a stellar day for me.  Some days, it's all I can do to be present in the day.

4.  I don't always want to talk about things.  I just need to be quiet with myself.  Sometimes I withdraw.  Sometimes I put on a great front.  And what I need most?  

Am I saying not to talk to me?  No, but sometimes just knowing someone is there is more powerful than anything that can be said.

And...

5.  *certainly not the last one, but it is for tonight*...Sometimes we go through spontaneous storms.  There are times in this process that we're just going to lose our stuff.  And, I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that it's okay for me to do that from time to time.

 

I have learned a lot in these last nearly 7 months.  I've learned a lot about myself and who I am becoming.  With that said, I still need my time to grieve.  Today, while I know I should be grateful that my baby is in heaven...dang it!!!  I want her HERE!  There is a Cora shaped hole in my life that will never be filled.

Today, it just happened to be an exposed wound..showing the world just how much she is missed.

Love

I have spoken about a man named Jay off and on in my posts since Coraline passed away.  He has been a rock for me to lean on, a place of support, a shoulder to cry on, and an embrace to soothe my heart.  There are many who don't understand how he came into my life.  Or even why he came into my life when he did.

Jay and I go back 20 years.  We worked together at a place called Perkins.  He watched me, teased me, I teased him, and we laughed a lot.  When I graduated from high school, I was often down on myself because I wasn't going 'out' like a lot of other friends.  This is nothing new, if you know me at all, I have a terrible self image.  Jay offered to take me out.  At the time, I was 17 and Jay was 25.  He came to my house to pick me up.  He had a single red rose for me.  He met my parents.  He walked me out to his car and opened the car door for me.

Jay was *and is* easy to talk to.  His blue eyes were *and are* piercing.  They are the type of eyes that allow you to see all the way into the soul.  He would get mad if I tried to open my own door.  He opened doors at the restaurant.  I felt like myself around him.

There was one day that he took me to Cascade Falls.  It's a beautiful place and off the beaten path.  As we waded in the water, he took me by the hand and said, "I love you."  I know that I was taken aback.  No guy had ever told me that he loved me first...not before him or after him.  And...I believed him.  The feeling was mutual.

In time, life became busy for Jay.  I was a teenager and 'needy'.  My mother had told Jay to watch himself since I was considered jail bait (I didn't know that at the time).  We split shortly after I found out that I had mono, but not by choice.  The pain was unbearable.  Looking back now, it had to be as it was.  I started college in the spring semester of 1996 and earned my bachelor's degree several years later.

I moved on.  Married.  I had 3 beautiful children.  My marriage wasn't what it appeared.  The smoke and mirrors hid a lot.  I hid a lot.  The last 20 years have truly shaped who I am.  I have become an adult.  I am less needy and more independent.  However, I am more fearful of life, I am a walking wounded in more ways than one, and I have become more aware of who I am and what I'm made of.

One day, out of the blue, I heard a song that reminded me of Jay.  The love I'd had for him never really died, but had been tucked away in my heart.  I had searched for him off and on over the years, but never had managed to find him.  This time when I searched for him...I found him!  We began talking again and I realized that my love for him *and his for me* was still very much there.

In December 2013, Jay sold most of what he had, and moved to Arizona.  If you read about Cora's stay in the hospital, you know that Jay stayed with me the whole week while I was there.  He made sure that I ate and got me out so that I wasn't staying in her room 24/7.  Even when I did get out of the room, I felt guilty.  Jay was with me when Cora passed.  He grieved her as if she was his own child.  He helped me with funeral arrangements.

In the months since, he has been a sounding board, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, someone to hold my hand, drive me to the ER, take care of me or the girls when we've been sick, helps cook, clean, do dishes *sometimes when the oldest child is not doing them*, and is generally my helpmate.  I get kisses throughout my day and am told that I'm loved almost as much as I am kissed...or equally as much.  We snuggle on the couch when if I am able to stay awake long enough to make it through a show.  He often gets frustrated with me because I tend to withdraw often.  He calls me on it.

Jay has promised to always be here for us.  Life has certainly evolved since we knew each other last.  We can actually be adults together.  We can have adult beverages together.  I have to say, that's one pretty sweet positive!  We can make plans together.  We can think about life together.

At the ages of 37 and 45, life has given to us the experiences we needed to allow us to be together and work together as a couple.  In a little over a month, Jay will hit the 1 year mark of having moved here.  We have gone through so much in a year and yet, I am sure that God brought him here at the exact time He did...knowing exactly what I would need.

While my heart is still broken from losing my sweet Cora, my heart is being mended in so many other ways.  And...I am thankful.

Grief

You know, this grief thing is hard work.  And I mean...HARD...WORK.  It's freakin' exhausting.  I'm in a constant roller coaster of emotions.  Just when I think I have it figured out...WHAM!  By-the-way...I hate loathe being on the roller coaster.

The worst part now, after 6 months, is realizing that my 11-year old is experiencing this same grief, but is so ill prepared on how to handle it.  She doesn't understand her anger.  She is unable to express her sorrow.  What makes things even more difficult?  She understands more than most kids her age.  The things that used to annoy her about her sister...she misses with every fiber of her being.  The mornings that she'd wake up and have Cora snuggled up against her in her bed.  Her sneakiness.  Yeah...all of that.

What can I do, but grieve with her?  We talk about Cora together.  I've told her that anger is perfectly normal.  She's reading through a book that was given to me that I've read mostly through.  I talked to her about the different stages of grief and how sometimes we're a combination of all of them...all at the same time.

My poor child feels guilty.  She feels guilty because I was with her at PCH instead of being home with Cora.  She thinks that if I had been home with Cora, she might not be gone.  She doesn't understand why it had to be Cora.  She's mad because she'll continue to have a birthday, but her sister won't.  She doesn't know what she wants for Christmas because she really just doesn't want anything.

My greatest challenge amongst this grief?  Reassuring my children that they are loved, that they are safe, and that I will do everything within my abilities to keep them healthy and happy.  I don't brush things off as easily as I used to...not that I really brushed things off per se, but I didn't rush to the doctor.  Now, I tend to be a bit gun shy.  And honestly, the doctor's need to understand that.

As I have said about myself, I will say it again for the sake of my children...we still need understanding, we need friends who will not ask questions, who will let us talk about our Cora, who will love us no matter what, and who can walk through this painful part of our lives.  It's messy and it's hard, but we'll know who we can count on most.

For those that have stuck around and waded through the mire with us...there are no words.  Just know that we are so grateful that you are here.

She Lived

I'm looking at videos this morning of Cora.  I know she was in my life...I have proof!  I have pictures and videos galore!  I have pictures and videos of milestones, birthdays, holidays.  She was in my life.  How is it that I no longer have this sweet child in my life anymore??

The hardest part sometimes is saying to myself, "I don't have fighting when I go to the grocery store anymore."  Or, "She's not swiping stuff from her preteen sister anymore."  But, that's what made life, life.  She portrayed the younger sister perfectly.  She was able to annoy her sisters with ease.  After all, she was only 4.  And...isn't that what little sisters are meant to do?

I know in my heart that I need to celebrate the time I had with her instead of mourning the time I don't have with her, but right now?  That's incredibly hard.  I want that time with her.  I want to see her little face when I go back to work after dropping her off for her class.  I want to see her learn how to ride her bike without her training wheels.  I want to see her go to kindergarten next year.

If it weren't for the pictures and videos, it would seem as if her life never existed.  But, I know she lived.  I was deathly ill for 2 months, on home health care and a PICC line, on meds for 7 months after that, and was in and out of the hospital for all 9 months.  I felt her move inside my belly.  I cried when she was born and I felt the warmness of her little body against mine when the nurses handed her to me for the first time in the recovery room.  I was there for every moment of her little life.  And I was there and felt her heart beat for the last time.

I did not choose to let her go.  I had to let her go.

No parent would voluntarily choose to let go of their child.  Sometimes...we have to.  We have to because they're far too sick to stay with us.  God knows.  He had to give up His child too, but not because he was sick.

My heart aches for her.  I long to hear her little voice..."I want my momma."  "I love you momma." 

She may not have had red hair or grey colored eyes, but personality wise...she was my mini me. 

Some days are better than others.  And lately...there's been more hard days than better ones.  I cry, not because of life that's happening now, but because of the little life I am missing.