Yes, it's that time again.
There isn't a day of my life that I don't think about Grady. Especially now that Matthew is here, I wonder all things little boy and what could have been with him.
But the weather here has changed significantly in the last few days. There is a chill in the night air and the days are less humid and much cooler.
And it always makes me think of Grady. It has been almost three years since he went to heaven. Three years. Wow!
It had been a long, hot summer of being pregnant with him in 2008, so when the weather turned cooler, I was ever-so-thankful. And since the weather is doing the same now, my mind can't help but "go there".
Back to my pregnancy with him. Back to all the dreams we had of our first little boy. Back to the joy and anticipation of what it would be like to bring him home.
But none of that was meant to be. His time on this earth was short. Way too short in my opinion.
Emma Grace had to do a time line for school, and it is due tomorrow. We put a significant event from every year of her life on the time line, and she was adamant that Grady be the "event" for 2008. God love her...she has a picture of her baby brother who is not alive on her time line. She insisted that it be an "in color" picture, not a black and white. We chose, in my opinion, the best color picture of him since his right cheek was so bruised from the pressure of him being in the same position so long.
It warms my heart and makes me so happy that she thinks about him and remembers him as part of our family like she does. But, she had to remind me tonight as we were putting the picture on that she never got to see him. Grrrrr. That will forever be a regret, until the day I die. Literally. The fact that I didn't give these girls of mine the chance to see their first baby brother in person breaks my heart. But we thought, at the time, that we were doing the right thing. Hindsight really is 20/20.
And speaking of this, a good friend of mine is a teacher at Jessica's school. She has Jessica in a special group they have, and they were playing an ice breaker game called "Truth or Lies". Jessica said she had three siblings. Everyone said it was a lie. Apparently Jessica smiled and said, "No, that's the truth".
I remember after Grady died how worried I was that he would be forgotten. I can honestly say that he will never be forgotten in our immediate family. His name gets brought up, almost on a daily basis, around here. And it makes me smile.
He is my first boy. My third child. My angel waiting in heaven for me. The rainbow in the sky after a storm and the butterfly that flies in front of me. He is the reason that I have a heart for hurting people. He is one of the many reasons I look forward to heaven. Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
It's that time of year again.
And I miss him.
*If you read this tonight or tomorrow morning, Matthew has a check up with the neurologist tomorrow (Friday). If you would say a prayer that the appointment goes well, that would be wonderful. Thanks!*
Love,
Tonya
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
A Divine Appointment
I went to a "Service of Remembrance" yesterday at the hospital where Grady (and Emma Grace and Matthew) were born. Grady was not being honored, but I was invited and chose to attend. I went simply to support the families of the babies who were being honored. It is complicated to describe exactly what this ceremony was about, but I'll do my best.
Until recently, and with many hospitals, when a pregnancy is lost in the early weeks the only option for the "fetal remains" is "hospital disposal". I hate both of those terms in quotes, by the way. Through the efforts of the bereavement committee and a few key individuals, they are now able to offer something more. Families may choose to have the baby cremated with other babies at a funeral home and have the ashes buried together in the memorial garden at the hospital. Yesterday was the first remembrance ceremony to honor those babies.
There was a good turnout of families, and I sat next to a lady who was instrumental in getting this put into action. I noticed someone's keys and program were in the seat to my right, and when the lady sat down, I made sure to ask if she was saving that seat for anyone else. She said no.
I continued talking to the lady to my left and finally introduced myself to the lady to my right. We had a short conversation as she was too upset to talk. The chapel began filling, and I was afraid they weren't going to have enough seats. I looked at the lady to my right, we'll call her "K", and told her that I was going to go stand in the back because I wanted someone else to have the seat if they wanted it. To my surprise, she said something like, "Oh you can stay next to me and be my support. I'm here alone and am not doing very good".
So I did.
I put my arm around her and gave her a little squeeze and told her I would stay and support her. Through our conversation that followed, I was amazed by the details of everything that happened surrounding her baby's death. The ceremony was the first thing she had done to recognize her loss, and she said she felt like she was ready to start doing more. I was able to share some suggestions with her and encourage her that it does get easier. It has been almost 11 months since her baby went to heaven.
After the ceremony in the garden, I thought I would go inside to find her gone. But nope. That sweet woman waited for me to thank me and say goodbye. I gave her my information and truly do hope that she will reach out to me. I told her that I don't always have the right thing to say but am a good listener.
I share this not to toot my own horn, but to share what a heart God has given me for bereaved and hurting people. Funny thing is that as I was driving to the ceremony yesterday, I actually questioned myself as to why I was going. And in that thought process, I realized my deep desire just to be there for others and provide a little comfort and encouragement if possible.
God, on the other hand, had a divine appointment for me and "K" to meet. And if we never meet again, I hope the time and words we shared left a little spark of hope in her heart.
Love,
Tonya
Until recently, and with many hospitals, when a pregnancy is lost in the early weeks the only option for the "fetal remains" is "hospital disposal". I hate both of those terms in quotes, by the way. Through the efforts of the bereavement committee and a few key individuals, they are now able to offer something more. Families may choose to have the baby cremated with other babies at a funeral home and have the ashes buried together in the memorial garden at the hospital. Yesterday was the first remembrance ceremony to honor those babies.
There was a good turnout of families, and I sat next to a lady who was instrumental in getting this put into action. I noticed someone's keys and program were in the seat to my right, and when the lady sat down, I made sure to ask if she was saving that seat for anyone else. She said no.
I continued talking to the lady to my left and finally introduced myself to the lady to my right. We had a short conversation as she was too upset to talk. The chapel began filling, and I was afraid they weren't going to have enough seats. I looked at the lady to my right, we'll call her "K", and told her that I was going to go stand in the back because I wanted someone else to have the seat if they wanted it. To my surprise, she said something like, "Oh you can stay next to me and be my support. I'm here alone and am not doing very good".
So I did.
I put my arm around her and gave her a little squeeze and told her I would stay and support her. Through our conversation that followed, I was amazed by the details of everything that happened surrounding her baby's death. The ceremony was the first thing she had done to recognize her loss, and she said she felt like she was ready to start doing more. I was able to share some suggestions with her and encourage her that it does get easier. It has been almost 11 months since her baby went to heaven.
After the ceremony in the garden, I thought I would go inside to find her gone. But nope. That sweet woman waited for me to thank me and say goodbye. I gave her my information and truly do hope that she will reach out to me. I told her that I don't always have the right thing to say but am a good listener.
I share this not to toot my own horn, but to share what a heart God has given me for bereaved and hurting people. Funny thing is that as I was driving to the ceremony yesterday, I actually questioned myself as to why I was going. And in that thought process, I realized my deep desire just to be there for others and provide a little comfort and encouragement if possible.
God, on the other hand, had a divine appointment for me and "K" to meet. And if we never meet again, I hope the time and words we shared left a little spark of hope in her heart.
Love,
Tonya
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
My Mom
I promise happier posts are coming. I'm working on a post about my mom. I've referred to her on my blog, but I've never shared anything about her. I'm going to try to scan some pictures of her and tell her story here soon. Mainly for my girls to read one day. They still talk about their Granny and they sure do miss her...
And so do I.
Four years ago tonight was one of the hardest nights of my life.
I was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, listening to her groan with every breath, waiting for each one to be her last. She had lung cancer that had gone into remission but came back quickly and with a vengeance. She also had a heart attack a couple of weeks prior while she was in the hospital with pneumonia. She came home on hospice and died three short weeks later.
The day she came home from the hospital, we had a hospital bed in her room and a bedside commode. As I helped her off the commode, she put her arms around my neck with tears in her eyes and said, "I never thought I would get this bad". It. Broke. My. Heart. I knew she would get to that point, but she didn't want to accept it.
Just three days before she died, on Tuesday, she began to decline rapidly. Her pain increased, her breathing was more labored and we believe she suffered a stroke during her sleep that night. Hospice sent out a crisis nurse to stay around the clock with her. I went to her house on that Tuesday night after teaching a childbirth class. I debated on going because it was 11pm, but I'm SO glad I did. It was the last time she spoke to us. The next day when I went to visit, she was completely unresponsive. She wasn't responding to pain stimuli and had a foot drop which are both signs of neurological damage.
I had no idea she was in such a state or I never would have taken Emma Grace with me. I remember sitting on the other bed in her room with Emma Grace in my lap. She had just turned four. She kept asking me why Granny wasn't talking. I told her that Granny was very sick and would be meeting Jesus soon. Her response several times was, "No Mommy, Granny needs to stay here with us". Sweet girl.
The other noteworthy thing to mention is that my mom was insistent that she see the girls that Tuesday afternoon. As soon as Jessica got off the bus, we went over. They both climbed up on her bed and she loved on them and they on her. It was the last time. I remember feeling very inconvenienced by my mom's persistence because I had spent the day at her house (like I did every day), and I had to teach that night, but oh how glad I am that I took them. That was the last time Granny got to "eat them up".
She was unresponsive from Wednesday morning until the time she died, with the exception of a very short time. It was the middle of the night on Thursday night/Friday morning and the hospice nurse called me in from the sofa. She got my stepdad up from the guest bedroom because my mom had started stirring. I went beside her and asked her if we could see her pretty eyes. She opened them and tried to mumble something. We were telling her we loved her. And then her eyes closed. Not to open again.
The weather was beautiful on that Friday, and I kept telling her what a beautiful day it was to meet Jesus. None of the hospice nurses, nor any of our family, could believe she was still holding on. Even though she was a Christian, my mom was a very superstitious woman. I happen to believe she knew it was Friday the 13th and didn't want to die that day. She waited until 12:14am on Saturday, April 14th to take her final breath.
The end was not as peaceful as I had hoped. I won't go into the details just in case my girls do read this at some point. I hadn't wanted to be the "nurse" to take care of her alone at the end (even though my brother and stepdad were there, they relied on me to do everything), but our hospice did not have another crisis nurse to send out after the last one left at 8pm. It wasn't long after that nurse left that her hands started turning blue. I believe she didn't want a stranger in her home when she died.
I had a TERRIBLE experience with the on-call nurse. I had given mom some Morphine but felt that she needed more. She told me not to give her anymore Morphine even though she was groaning louder and louder. I was torn about what to do. If I gave her more Morphine and it helped, that would have been great. But, if I went against the nurse and gave her more and she immediately died, I would have to live with the fact that I "killed" her. Even though she was clearly dying, I didn't want to live with that for the rest of my life. So, I didn't give her the Morphine. And I should have. I still agonize over that four years later.
Her final breath was obviously very emotional for me. But it was more spiritual than I ever dreamed it would be. My brother was at her feet. My stepdad and I holding her hands. My brother said, "She's gone. Momma's gone". I checked her pulse and there wasn't one. I'm not sure what came over me, but I immediately started praying. There was intense sadness but the same amount of relief. Watching someone you love suffer is absolutely exhausting. She wasn't suffering anymore and for that I was grateful. As sad as I was, I felt peace that she was in heaven with Jesus, my dad, her parents and the others who had gone before her.
We called hospice because they had to send a nurse to "pronounce" her and ended up waiting THREE HOURS! The lovely nurse who was on call (from earlier that night) wouldn't return my pages/calls. Did I mention she got fired? Yeah. I usually don't take pride in those sorts of things, but her behavior and lack of respect for our family was heinous in my opinion.
In the time we waited, we opened the envelope where she had written her final arrangements. I curled up in the fetal position on the other bed in her room and cried. And cried. And cried. At one point my stepdad came in and looked at her. He said, "You and Eddie (my brother) have someone to go home to. Who do I have now?" Broke. My. Heart.
One thing I regret is that I wasn't allowed to tell my mom that she was dying. I'm not pointing fingers or placing blame, but others in my family didn't want to share with her the reality of the situation. Their thinking was that if she knew the truth, she would give up. This might have been true. But, I think deep down she knew. I regret not being forthright with her because I think all of us could have had some really healing conversations with her before she left us.
So, four years without my mom. Even though she wasn't always the most positive, encouraging, uplifting person in my life, she was my mom. And she loved me. And I loved her. A lot. And I miss her every day!
Thanks for enduring this. I needed to write it.
Love,
Tonya
And so do I.
Four years ago tonight was one of the hardest nights of my life.
I was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, listening to her groan with every breath, waiting for each one to be her last. She had lung cancer that had gone into remission but came back quickly and with a vengeance. She also had a heart attack a couple of weeks prior while she was in the hospital with pneumonia. She came home on hospice and died three short weeks later.
The day she came home from the hospital, we had a hospital bed in her room and a bedside commode. As I helped her off the commode, she put her arms around my neck with tears in her eyes and said, "I never thought I would get this bad". It. Broke. My. Heart. I knew she would get to that point, but she didn't want to accept it.
Just three days before she died, on Tuesday, she began to decline rapidly. Her pain increased, her breathing was more labored and we believe she suffered a stroke during her sleep that night. Hospice sent out a crisis nurse to stay around the clock with her. I went to her house on that Tuesday night after teaching a childbirth class. I debated on going because it was 11pm, but I'm SO glad I did. It was the last time she spoke to us. The next day when I went to visit, she was completely unresponsive. She wasn't responding to pain stimuli and had a foot drop which are both signs of neurological damage.
I had no idea she was in such a state or I never would have taken Emma Grace with me. I remember sitting on the other bed in her room with Emma Grace in my lap. She had just turned four. She kept asking me why Granny wasn't talking. I told her that Granny was very sick and would be meeting Jesus soon. Her response several times was, "No Mommy, Granny needs to stay here with us". Sweet girl.
The other noteworthy thing to mention is that my mom was insistent that she see the girls that Tuesday afternoon. As soon as Jessica got off the bus, we went over. They both climbed up on her bed and she loved on them and they on her. It was the last time. I remember feeling very inconvenienced by my mom's persistence because I had spent the day at her house (like I did every day), and I had to teach that night, but oh how glad I am that I took them. That was the last time Granny got to "eat them up".
She was unresponsive from Wednesday morning until the time she died, with the exception of a very short time. It was the middle of the night on Thursday night/Friday morning and the hospice nurse called me in from the sofa. She got my stepdad up from the guest bedroom because my mom had started stirring. I went beside her and asked her if we could see her pretty eyes. She opened them and tried to mumble something. We were telling her we loved her. And then her eyes closed. Not to open again.
The weather was beautiful on that Friday, and I kept telling her what a beautiful day it was to meet Jesus. None of the hospice nurses, nor any of our family, could believe she was still holding on. Even though she was a Christian, my mom was a very superstitious woman. I happen to believe she knew it was Friday the 13th and didn't want to die that day. She waited until 12:14am on Saturday, April 14th to take her final breath.
The end was not as peaceful as I had hoped. I won't go into the details just in case my girls do read this at some point. I hadn't wanted to be the "nurse" to take care of her alone at the end (even though my brother and stepdad were there, they relied on me to do everything), but our hospice did not have another crisis nurse to send out after the last one left at 8pm. It wasn't long after that nurse left that her hands started turning blue. I believe she didn't want a stranger in her home when she died.
I had a TERRIBLE experience with the on-call nurse. I had given mom some Morphine but felt that she needed more. She told me not to give her anymore Morphine even though she was groaning louder and louder. I was torn about what to do. If I gave her more Morphine and it helped, that would have been great. But, if I went against the nurse and gave her more and she immediately died, I would have to live with the fact that I "killed" her. Even though she was clearly dying, I didn't want to live with that for the rest of my life. So, I didn't give her the Morphine. And I should have. I still agonize over that four years later.
Her final breath was obviously very emotional for me. But it was more spiritual than I ever dreamed it would be. My brother was at her feet. My stepdad and I holding her hands. My brother said, "She's gone. Momma's gone". I checked her pulse and there wasn't one. I'm not sure what came over me, but I immediately started praying. There was intense sadness but the same amount of relief. Watching someone you love suffer is absolutely exhausting. She wasn't suffering anymore and for that I was grateful. As sad as I was, I felt peace that she was in heaven with Jesus, my dad, her parents and the others who had gone before her.
We called hospice because they had to send a nurse to "pronounce" her and ended up waiting THREE HOURS! The lovely nurse who was on call (from earlier that night) wouldn't return my pages/calls. Did I mention she got fired? Yeah. I usually don't take pride in those sorts of things, but her behavior and lack of respect for our family was heinous in my opinion.
In the time we waited, we opened the envelope where she had written her final arrangements. I curled up in the fetal position on the other bed in her room and cried. And cried. And cried. At one point my stepdad came in and looked at her. He said, "You and Eddie (my brother) have someone to go home to. Who do I have now?" Broke. My. Heart.
One thing I regret is that I wasn't allowed to tell my mom that she was dying. I'm not pointing fingers or placing blame, but others in my family didn't want to share with her the reality of the situation. Their thinking was that if she knew the truth, she would give up. This might have been true. But, I think deep down she knew. I regret not being forthright with her because I think all of us could have had some really healing conversations with her before she left us.
So, four years without my mom. Even though she wasn't always the most positive, encouraging, uplifting person in my life, she was my mom. And she loved me. And I loved her. A lot. And I miss her every day!
Thanks for enduring this. I needed to write it.
Love,
Tonya
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
It's Late and I'm Overcome...
...with emotion.
This will be short as it is late, and I need to go to bed. But, my heart is heavy right now, and I just need to share. Maybe it will feel a little lighter if I do.
Matthew is having a hard time settling tonight. I think his tummy hurts. I just went to his room and he needed more than just his paci. He needed some cuddling. Apparently, I did, too.
As I was rocking him, I was overcome with emotion. The wonderful weight of him on my chest. The fullness of his sweet self in my arms. The tears welled up in my eyes.
This was not always the case. I sat many nights in his room in that same rocking chair, rocking and longing for my Baby Grady. Missing his weight and breath on me. Arms empty and aching for him.
Tonight, I am so thankful for the gift of Matthew's life. For the joy and healing he has brought to my heart. For a God who created him, fearfully and wonderfully, to be part of our earthly family.
But, even among the happiness and love I feel for him, I can't help but remember the times when things were different. I still miss my first born boy. Even though he was still, he was still born. He was a person. His life mattered, even though he didn't live outside of me. He left a hole in my heart that belongs to him and him alone.
I don't take these moments with Matthew for granted. Not for one second.
But, my heart is heavy, for I know there are too many moms rocking in rocking chairs tonight with empty, aching arms. Tears streaming down their face.
And it simply breaks my heart.
I was that mom. And the pain of such loss still stings. And it never goes away. And I never forget. And I never want to...
Love,
Tonya
This will be short as it is late, and I need to go to bed. But, my heart is heavy right now, and I just need to share. Maybe it will feel a little lighter if I do.
Matthew is having a hard time settling tonight. I think his tummy hurts. I just went to his room and he needed more than just his paci. He needed some cuddling. Apparently, I did, too.
As I was rocking him, I was overcome with emotion. The wonderful weight of him on my chest. The fullness of his sweet self in my arms. The tears welled up in my eyes.
This was not always the case. I sat many nights in his room in that same rocking chair, rocking and longing for my Baby Grady. Missing his weight and breath on me. Arms empty and aching for him.
Tonight, I am so thankful for the gift of Matthew's life. For the joy and healing he has brought to my heart. For a God who created him, fearfully and wonderfully, to be part of our earthly family.
But, even among the happiness and love I feel for him, I can't help but remember the times when things were different. I still miss my first born boy. Even though he was still, he was still born. He was a person. His life mattered, even though he didn't live outside of me. He left a hole in my heart that belongs to him and him alone.
I don't take these moments with Matthew for granted. Not for one second.
But, my heart is heavy, for I know there are too many moms rocking in rocking chairs tonight with empty, aching arms. Tears streaming down their face.
And it simply breaks my heart.
I was that mom. And the pain of such loss still stings. And it never goes away. And I never forget. And I never want to...
Love,
Tonya
Friday, February 4, 2011
Oswald
Emma Grace took the bus to school for the first time yesterday morning. Jessica came home from school Wednesday sick with a stomach bug. (I'm not 100% convinced she didn't get a bad chicken sandwich at Chick-fil-A because she said she was perfectly fine until she ate. She went with the school to celebrate getting all A's on her report card, compliments of the school. Nice treat for the kids!)
Anyway, Emma Grace thought the bus was fun and wanted to ride it again this morning. But after she got up and heard the rain, she wanted me to drive her, then wanted to ride the bus, then drive her and so the story goes. She ended up riding the bus. (And a big thank you to Nicole who kept both of my girls dry this morning with her umbrella!)
Since Emma Grace was up early and had already eaten breakfast, I turned Oswald on for her. After she was safely on the bus, I sat back down to finish giving Matthew his bottle. Oswald was still on. The remote was too far away, and I was too lazy to get up again with a 17 lb bundle in my arms. So, I just sat and watched.
Weenie, the dog, had lost his ball of yarn. It fell out the window and kept rolling away. He and Oswald followed its trail. Along the way, it had tied people up and gotten caught in trees. When they found what was left of it, the dog, Weenie, was still able to play with it. On the way back to untangle everyone, they had found ways to play with it and make it useful. It was used as a jump rope, a swing, a clothes line, a knitting project, a hammock, a limbo stick, etc.
It reminded me of the following post that I wrote a long time ago about my grief and a ball of yarn. My reflections about all of this are below, after this post.
The original ball of yarn that bounced out Oswald's window was very much like my grief in the beginning soon after Grady died. While I've unraveled and worked through many of the kinks and knots of this "messy ball" in the last two years, the yarn and grief are still a part of me.
The ball of yarn started to unravel and I had to deal with each piece of it as it did. I had to learn how to live with it. How to incorporate it into my life and how to make the best of the situation I was faced with. The show paralleled this idea when everyone was first all tied up and tangled in it. But instead of being miserable, the characters decided to make it useful. Just like us grieving mommies have to decide to move forward. It's a choice. One that takes a lot of energy and hard work.
And what's left of the ball is usually then small enough for us to live with, cope with and tolerate on a daily basis. Just like Weenie was still able to play with what was left of his small ball of yarn. I'm so thankful that the ball gets smaller because I honestly can't imagine if it stayed as big as it starts in our hearts.
Love,
Tonya
Anyway, Emma Grace thought the bus was fun and wanted to ride it again this morning. But after she got up and heard the rain, she wanted me to drive her, then wanted to ride the bus, then drive her and so the story goes. She ended up riding the bus. (And a big thank you to Nicole who kept both of my girls dry this morning with her umbrella!)
Since Emma Grace was up early and had already eaten breakfast, I turned Oswald on for her. After she was safely on the bus, I sat back down to finish giving Matthew his bottle. Oswald was still on. The remote was too far away, and I was too lazy to get up again with a 17 lb bundle in my arms. So, I just sat and watched.
Weenie, the dog, had lost his ball of yarn. It fell out the window and kept rolling away. He and Oswald followed its trail. Along the way, it had tied people up and gotten caught in trees. When they found what was left of it, the dog, Weenie, was still able to play with it. On the way back to untangle everyone, they had found ways to play with it and make it useful. It was used as a jump rope, a swing, a clothes line, a knitting project, a hammock, a limbo stick, etc.
It reminded me of the following post that I wrote a long time ago about my grief and a ball of yarn. My reflections about all of this are below, after this post.
My Grief & A Ball of Yarn
What could those two things have in common???
A LOT!
Today has been one of those days where I've had a lump at the base of my throat all day. The tears wanted to come, but I wouldn't let them. Although, for some reason, I almost fell apart at Kroger tonight. No trigger. Nothing. Just almost started crying. But I composed myself. I fought it hard. The tears didn't come.
I haven't had a good cry in a long time. I let the tears well-up in my eyes and then blink them away. I keep swallowing until the lump doesn't feel quite so big. I keep taking very deep breaths so that I can get some air to help me not feel like I'm suffocating so much. It just takes soooo much energy to grieve. It takes soooo much energy to have the kind of cries that the love and hurt and lost memories of Grady bring about. There are times that I just don't have it in me to let go. And there are times when I don't feel "safe" to let it out.
You see, what I've found with this grief, is that it is somewhat of a personal thing. Yes, it is great to share my feelings with those who love and care for me. Yes, it is great to share my feelings with those who have walked a similar road. No, it is not good for me to keep it in. But the truth is this.....the ugly cries that really need to come to work through something like this are best done in private. Not just so no one sees how truly ugly I am while crying but for me to get the maximum benefit, or release, out of that sob session. And for me, that's literally what it is.
I think for many people they don't grasp the depth of the pain of losing an unborn baby. People say things like, "At least you didn't get to know him", "Something might have been seriously wrong with him", "At least you have two other children", "There's a reason". I don't know why, but one of the things I hated MOST to hear after Grady died was, "Well, you look good!" To me, that implied that I must be doing good if I looked good. Sure, the fact that I dropped 30 pounds in two weeks probably had something to do with it, but PLEASE! That is not the kind of weight loss regime that one desires! Anyway, I got so tired of it, that one night, when some poor soul (and I honestly can't remember who it was and if it was you and you're reading this, I do sincerely apologize!) brought a hot meal to our house, that person made the mistake of saying, "Well, you look good!" I know everyone who said this desperately just needed something positive to say to me and they were trying to make me feel better. But to this unfortunate person I replied, "Well that's a good thing because if the outside matched the inside, I'd look like sh--!"
So, what do my grief and a ball of yarn have in common?
When I went to my RTS Bereavement Training in March, we did an eye-opening exercise. We stood in a group of 6-7 people holding a ball of yarn. We were instructed to hold a piece of yarn in one hand and throw the ball itself randomly around the circle. Each time you threw the ball of yarn, you held onto a piece of it and you had to name how a mother (and/or father) bonds with the baby before that baby is ever born. So, our ball of yarn got thrown around the circle several times. Some ways mentioned that bonding occurs were hearing the baby's heartbeat, seeing the baby on ultrasound, feeling the baby move and kick, feeling baby's hiccups, preparing the nursery, naming the baby, baby showers, buying clothes/diapers, imagining life/holidays/vacations with the baby, etc. You get the idea.
All at once the leaders told us to stop. We then raised our arms over our heads and held up this "web" of yarn. It looked pretty cool from the bottom looking upward at the intertwined pieces of yarn. Then they told us to drop our yarn in front of us. It didn't look so cool anymore. In the middle of us was A BIG MESS! It was then explained to us that this is what grieving parents, who have suffered a loss, EVEN BEFORE BIRTH, have to unravel. As we were trying to "wind up" the yarn back into a neat ball, we kept encountering knots where the yarn would have to be more carefully worked with.
This is much like the grief that I have been, and still am, working through. From the viewpoint of an outsider, it shouldn't be that hard to lose a baby before he was born. After all, "I didn't get to know him". But nothing could be farther from the truth. I knew Grady very well. I knew him better than anyone else. And I knew him for 36 weeks and 5 days.
And I'm trying to clean up that mess and unravel the tangled yarn internally. You see, that tangled yarn is a good depiction of how my insides feel. It tells the story very well that my heart is broken. That even if I can work through some of the heartache, I will encounter bumps or "knots" along the way that may take longer to straighten out. That yarn is the clean-up that I'm trying to tackle every day. That mess of yarn represents the memories that I have of Grady, the memories that I won't get to make with Grady, the deep love that I will always have in my heart for Grady.
He's my son. My baby boy.
And I will never forget him!
And I will never let anyone else forget him, either.
And although I can't physically carry him here in my arms...
I will always carry him in my heart, forever and ever!
A LOT!
Today has been one of those days where I've had a lump at the base of my throat all day. The tears wanted to come, but I wouldn't let them. Although, for some reason, I almost fell apart at Kroger tonight. No trigger. Nothing. Just almost started crying. But I composed myself. I fought it hard. The tears didn't come.
I haven't had a good cry in a long time. I let the tears well-up in my eyes and then blink them away. I keep swallowing until the lump doesn't feel quite so big. I keep taking very deep breaths so that I can get some air to help me not feel like I'm suffocating so much. It just takes soooo much energy to grieve. It takes soooo much energy to have the kind of cries that the love and hurt and lost memories of Grady bring about. There are times that I just don't have it in me to let go. And there are times when I don't feel "safe" to let it out.
You see, what I've found with this grief, is that it is somewhat of a personal thing. Yes, it is great to share my feelings with those who love and care for me. Yes, it is great to share my feelings with those who have walked a similar road. No, it is not good for me to keep it in. But the truth is this.....the ugly cries that really need to come to work through something like this are best done in private. Not just so no one sees how truly ugly I am while crying but for me to get the maximum benefit, or release, out of that sob session. And for me, that's literally what it is.
I think for many people they don't grasp the depth of the pain of losing an unborn baby. People say things like, "At least you didn't get to know him", "Something might have been seriously wrong with him", "At least you have two other children", "There's a reason". I don't know why, but one of the things I hated MOST to hear after Grady died was, "Well, you look good!" To me, that implied that I must be doing good if I looked good. Sure, the fact that I dropped 30 pounds in two weeks probably had something to do with it, but PLEASE! That is not the kind of weight loss regime that one desires! Anyway, I got so tired of it, that one night, when some poor soul (and I honestly can't remember who it was and if it was you and you're reading this, I do sincerely apologize!) brought a hot meal to our house, that person made the mistake of saying, "Well, you look good!" I know everyone who said this desperately just needed something positive to say to me and they were trying to make me feel better. But to this unfortunate person I replied, "Well that's a good thing because if the outside matched the inside, I'd look like sh--!"
So, what do my grief and a ball of yarn have in common?
When I went to my RTS Bereavement Training in March, we did an eye-opening exercise. We stood in a group of 6-7 people holding a ball of yarn. We were instructed to hold a piece of yarn in one hand and throw the ball itself randomly around the circle. Each time you threw the ball of yarn, you held onto a piece of it and you had to name how a mother (and/or father) bonds with the baby before that baby is ever born. So, our ball of yarn got thrown around the circle several times. Some ways mentioned that bonding occurs were hearing the baby's heartbeat, seeing the baby on ultrasound, feeling the baby move and kick, feeling baby's hiccups, preparing the nursery, naming the baby, baby showers, buying clothes/diapers, imagining life/holidays/vacations with the baby, etc. You get the idea.
All at once the leaders told us to stop. We then raised our arms over our heads and held up this "web" of yarn. It looked pretty cool from the bottom looking upward at the intertwined pieces of yarn. Then they told us to drop our yarn in front of us. It didn't look so cool anymore. In the middle of us was A BIG MESS! It was then explained to us that this is what grieving parents, who have suffered a loss, EVEN BEFORE BIRTH, have to unravel. As we were trying to "wind up" the yarn back into a neat ball, we kept encountering knots where the yarn would have to be more carefully worked with.
This is much like the grief that I have been, and still am, working through. From the viewpoint of an outsider, it shouldn't be that hard to lose a baby before he was born. After all, "I didn't get to know him". But nothing could be farther from the truth. I knew Grady very well. I knew him better than anyone else. And I knew him for 36 weeks and 5 days.
And I'm trying to clean up that mess and unravel the tangled yarn internally. You see, that tangled yarn is a good depiction of how my insides feel. It tells the story very well that my heart is broken. That even if I can work through some of the heartache, I will encounter bumps or "knots" along the way that may take longer to straighten out. That yarn is the clean-up that I'm trying to tackle every day. That mess of yarn represents the memories that I have of Grady, the memories that I won't get to make with Grady, the deep love that I will always have in my heart for Grady.
He's my son. My baby boy.
And I will never forget him!
And I will never let anyone else forget him, either.
And although I can't physically carry him here in my arms...
I will always carry him in my heart, forever and ever!
The original ball of yarn that bounced out Oswald's window was very much like my grief in the beginning soon after Grady died. While I've unraveled and worked through many of the kinks and knots of this "messy ball" in the last two years, the yarn and grief are still a part of me.
The ball of yarn started to unravel and I had to deal with each piece of it as it did. I had to learn how to live with it. How to incorporate it into my life and how to make the best of the situation I was faced with. The show paralleled this idea when everyone was first all tied up and tangled in it. But instead of being miserable, the characters decided to make it useful. Just like us grieving mommies have to decide to move forward. It's a choice. One that takes a lot of energy and hard work.
And what's left of the ball is usually then small enough for us to live with, cope with and tolerate on a daily basis. Just like Weenie was still able to play with what was left of his small ball of yarn. I'm so thankful that the ball gets smaller because I honestly can't imagine if it stayed as big as it starts in our hearts.
Love,
Tonya
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Touched By A Text
I have a lot of friends who are pregnant or who have recently had babies. I have friends in all different age groups, but I honestly never thought I would be 38 and have this many friends still having babies, let alone have a six month old myself!!! I had my first when I was 26. My plan was to have four children, each three years apart, which would have meant I would be finished having babies at 35. Well, we all know the best way to make God laugh is to make a plan of your own.
That's not the point of this post...
One of my good friends had a baby just a little over a week ago. I saw her and her beautiful baby girl at church this morning. I am so happy for this sweet friend. This is not her first child or marriage, but she has finally found true love and happiness in a wonderful Godly man, and she deserves every bit of it!
I receiveda text three texts back-to-back from her today. The following is what I read...
"I want to tell you that I held [baby girl's name] today and just cried for you. I cannot imagine how empty your arms felt. I don't mean to bring this up to cause you to cry but to honestly be able to tell you how sorry I am that God had that in His plan for your life. I know that His will and plans are always perfect but that doesn't mean that we always like the road He takes us on. You are an amazing and strong woman to endure what you have and I admire you and your never ending faith in Him."
This meant so, so much to me. Two years after Grady went to heaven, she is still thinking about me and my empty arms and what it must have been like.
I wish I could say that I don't remember, but I remember all too well...
I remember the gut-wrenching realization that he wasn't moving anymore and wasn't going to move again.
I remember the words of Dr. Joe, "I don't see a heartbeat either," confirming what I saw on the ultrasound screen.
I remember not knowing how in the world I was going to give birth to a dead baby.
I remember not knowing how in the world we were going to tell the girls their baby brother had died, inside of me. That just wasn't supposed to happen.
I remember how deafening the silence was in the c-section room when he was born and there were no cries...only sniffles of those in the room.
I remember seeing Grady for the first time, knowing he was dead but still warm from my body, looking like he was sleeping like a newborn might be.
I remember asking him what happened and why he had to go.
I remember spending two days with him, holding him on my chest and in my arms.
I remember kissing him goodbye, placing him in the basket and handing him over to the funeral director.
I remember crying myself to sleep in the rocker in the nursery, wishing to have him back on my chest to feel the weight of him safe at home and not just in a cold hospital room.
I remember the suffocating feeling of not being able to breathe deeply because my heart was so broken.
I remember waking up each morning and thinking, "No. Not another day to live through this hell."
I remember how it took me three hours just to get dressed because I was so depressed.
I remember how badly it irritated me when people would say "Well, you look good." What was I supposed to say in return? Thanks. My baby died. I'm not eating because I feel like I'm going to throw up all the time and I've lost 30 pounds in two weeks.
Oh, I remember every second of it. And it lives within me every day.
I'm so very glad that my friend didn't keep her thoughts and feelings to herself. It meant so much to me that she thought of me and Grady and let me know. Too often, people want to say things but are afraid of making that person cry or making them sad. Yes, I got very teary eyed when I read her text. But I was touched beyond belief. The tears are always there. They just surface more easily depending on the situation or circumstance.
I love the poem on my left side bar called Remembering by Elizabeth Dent. If you've never read it, take a minute to before you leave my blog.
And I don't know if this particular friend reads my blog regularly or at all, but if you do...
Thank you! I love you and am so happy for you!
Love,
Tonya
That's not the point of this post...
One of my good friends had a baby just a little over a week ago. I saw her and her beautiful baby girl at church this morning. I am so happy for this sweet friend. This is not her first child or marriage, but she has finally found true love and happiness in a wonderful Godly man, and she deserves every bit of it!
I received
"I want to tell you that I held [baby girl's name] today and just cried for you. I cannot imagine how empty your arms felt. I don't mean to bring this up to cause you to cry but to honestly be able to tell you how sorry I am that God had that in His plan for your life. I know that His will and plans are always perfect but that doesn't mean that we always like the road He takes us on. You are an amazing and strong woman to endure what you have and I admire you and your never ending faith in Him."
This meant so, so much to me. Two years after Grady went to heaven, she is still thinking about me and my empty arms and what it must have been like.
I wish I could say that I don't remember, but I remember all too well...
I remember the gut-wrenching realization that he wasn't moving anymore and wasn't going to move again.
I remember the words of Dr. Joe, "I don't see a heartbeat either," confirming what I saw on the ultrasound screen.
I remember not knowing how in the world I was going to give birth to a dead baby.
I remember not knowing how in the world we were going to tell the girls their baby brother had died, inside of me. That just wasn't supposed to happen.
I remember how deafening the silence was in the c-section room when he was born and there were no cries...only sniffles of those in the room.
I remember seeing Grady for the first time, knowing he was dead but still warm from my body, looking like he was sleeping like a newborn might be.
I remember asking him what happened and why he had to go.
I remember spending two days with him, holding him on my chest and in my arms.
I remember kissing him goodbye, placing him in the basket and handing him over to the funeral director.
I remember crying myself to sleep in the rocker in the nursery, wishing to have him back on my chest to feel the weight of him safe at home and not just in a cold hospital room.
I remember the suffocating feeling of not being able to breathe deeply because my heart was so broken.
I remember waking up each morning and thinking, "No. Not another day to live through this hell."
I remember how it took me three hours just to get dressed because I was so depressed.
I remember how badly it irritated me when people would say "Well, you look good." What was I supposed to say in return? Thanks. My baby died. I'm not eating because I feel like I'm going to throw up all the time and I've lost 30 pounds in two weeks.
Oh, I remember every second of it. And it lives within me every day.
I'm so very glad that my friend didn't keep her thoughts and feelings to herself. It meant so much to me that she thought of me and Grady and let me know. Too often, people want to say things but are afraid of making that person cry or making them sad. Yes, I got very teary eyed when I read her text. But I was touched beyond belief. The tears are always there. They just surface more easily depending on the situation or circumstance.
I love the poem on my left side bar called Remembering by Elizabeth Dent. If you've never read it, take a minute to before you leave my blog.
And I don't know if this particular friend reads my blog regularly or at all, but if you do...
Thank you! I love you and am so happy for you!
Love,
Tonya
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanksgiving Two Years Ago
This is the third time I've started this post. It started out entitled Thankful Tidbits. But as I started writing, it has turned into my reflections on my Thanksgiving two years ago right after Grady went to heaven.
So, that's where I'm headed.
But I do want to say that I'm so very thankful for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. For without Him, I would be nothing. I'm thankful for his love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness. I'm thankful for His promises. I'm thankful for the gift of salvation and hope of heaven that I have through my very own (salvation that is). I'm thankful for how He has been with me every step of the last two years.
I reflected on my Thanksgiving two years ago. I wasn't speaking to God. To say that I was mad would be an understatement. I had already lost my mom and dad, all of my grandparents, a miscarriage and almost Emma Grace. Now the baby who had lived and grown inside of me was dead, too. I really just felt like He needed to go pick on someone else. Maybe one of those people whose life seemed to be perfect (even though I know there's no such thing).
I didn't want to be around anyone. I couldn't stand the "elephant" in the room. Everyone wanted to talk about Grady and then they didn't. So no one would say anything. And he was all I wanted to talk about, but no one really wanted to listen because then they would have to talk and they didn't know what to say. A vicious, evil circle.
We didn't get together with our families, Instead we went to dinner at the Cracker Barrel and then to Lake Lanier to see the Nights of Lights. At the end of the lights was a mini carnival. We had no idea that it was there, but of course the girls wanted to play. So we did. It was fun. It really was a great memory-maker, but I couldn't help but think of how I should have been home with my newborn. I wanted to grab strangers and tell them that my baby had just died. We all (me, Gib and the girls) rode our first Ferris wheel together. It was fun, but the seat belt hurt my incision from my c-section. I remember being on the very top waiting for people below to load, looking out over the clear, dark, cold night and longing for my Baby Grady.
I remember coming home and after everyone was in bed, I watched my Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep DVD that I have of Grady and cried and cried. I couldn't talk to God, or rather I chose not to. Instead I got a brand new journal and just started writing. I thought maybe if I wrote my thoughts and feelings out, He would hear me still without me having to actually pray. (It wasn't until the end of January before I started speaking to God again. I'm not proud of that at all. I'm not boasting about it. It's just the truth. And believe me, I've asked for His forgiveness. I wish I could be as forgiving as Him. It's something I'm working on and something that I believe He's working on in me.)
I'm going to be very vulnerable and share with you what I wrote. I'm truly not sure why I'm writing this tonight, except that maybe I need to OR maybe someone needs to read it. Remember this was very early in my grief, just a couple of weeks after Grady's death. The pain was raw and real. Here goes...
Dear God,
I just don't understand! Why did you need Grady in heaven so bad? We wanted him here with us. I feel like you teased me with a pregnancy and a healthy baby and then cheated me at the end. We weren't going to have any more children. He was a surprise. I really felt like he was meant to be here & complete our family. I always would think of having more children but was so scared of going through the prematurity struggles again. I would always hear the words "ye of little faith" in my head. Lord, I trusted you and had faith that you would protect Baby Grady and bring him here healthy and safe. You did neither. He was alive in me one minute and gone the next. He will always be my son, my third child. I will cherish the 36 weeks and 5 days he spent growing inside of me - feeling his every move. But Lord it doesn't seem right and it's SO NOT FAIR! I know you have your reasons for taking him, but WHY HIM? WHY US? WHY ME AGAIN? Why did you take someone else that I love? Am I that bad of a person? Is this some sort of punishment? I just wish I knew! I try to remind myself often, even right now, that you have plans to prosper and not harm me, but it doesn't feel that way at this point in my life. There are people who don't want their babies, abuse them, even kill them. I am not one of those people. But you didn't take their babies from them. Lord, I'm hurt, heartbroken to the core, deeper than I ever thought I could hurt. I'm mad, confused, frustrated, feeling guilty and blaming myself for what I maybe could have done differently. Yet I am so thankful to you Lord for Gib, Jessica and Emma Grace - for the blessings that they are in my life. Lord, please don't take them from me too - PLEASE! I'm having a hard time praying right now, but I knew you would listen and know my heart even if I wrote it down. Lord, as much as I am hurting and blaming you for this - for taking Baby Grady - I do need your help to get through this. I can't do this alone. No one understands what I'm going through. This deep dark pit that I've fallen into and can't get out of. There's light all around me - Gib, the girls, the world keeps on moving - but there I am. Stuck. Lonely. Sad to the point of despair. It hurts so bad that it's hard to breathe at times. I know that time will make it easier but I'll never get over losing this precious baby boy. But Lord, I need help getting through this. The days are so long. My mind never stops. Everything plays over and over in my head. Now I'm starting to have regrets, but at the time we did what we thought was the right thing. I didn't want the girls to remember seeing their baby brother laying there lifeless. Now Jessica says she wanted to see him and my guess is that Emma Grace did too. We should have asked them - I feel so guilty about that. I was trying to protect their hearts as much as I could. I thought pictures would be good enough and then they could form their own images of him. Hopefully they will forgive me one day and I can forgive myself too. I wish that even though we took pictures, we didn't take enough. We should have taken more. I wish I had a picture of me holding him. I wish I had held him more, even though I was blessed to hold him as much as I did. I wish I had sang to him the songs the girls love for me to sing. Those are a few of my regrets. Most of all, I wish I was holding him right now or nursing him or wishing he would go to sleep because I was exhausted from being up all night with him. But instead the reality is, I'm writing in this journal, pouring my heart and feelings out to you God, desperately needing your help to work through this. In Jesus Name, Amen
So, I guess it was sort of a prayer, considering how I ended it.
It is amazing to see how far I've come in this grief process. I think about Grady and miss him every day. I always will. But there is no way you could have told me two years ago that I would be holding another baby boy who I'm madly in love with. I was never going to be pregnant again! I just knew my heart couldn't dare be set up for such heartache again.
But hold another boy I have been...And loving every minute of it! I'm so thankful God led us to the decision to try again. For if we had not, a true gift and blessing would have been squelched. I'm thankful for my whole family, and I'm thankful to be where I am right now.
Love,
Tonya
So, that's where I'm headed.
But I do want to say that I'm so very thankful for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. For without Him, I would be nothing. I'm thankful for his love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness. I'm thankful for His promises. I'm thankful for the gift of salvation and hope of heaven that I have through my very own (salvation that is). I'm thankful for how He has been with me every step of the last two years.
I reflected on my Thanksgiving two years ago. I wasn't speaking to God. To say that I was mad would be an understatement. I had already lost my mom and dad, all of my grandparents, a miscarriage and almost Emma Grace. Now the baby who had lived and grown inside of me was dead, too. I really just felt like He needed to go pick on someone else. Maybe one of those people whose life seemed to be perfect (even though I know there's no such thing).
I didn't want to be around anyone. I couldn't stand the "elephant" in the room. Everyone wanted to talk about Grady and then they didn't. So no one would say anything. And he was all I wanted to talk about, but no one really wanted to listen because then they would have to talk and they didn't know what to say. A vicious, evil circle.
We didn't get together with our families, Instead we went to dinner at the Cracker Barrel and then to Lake Lanier to see the Nights of Lights. At the end of the lights was a mini carnival. We had no idea that it was there, but of course the girls wanted to play. So we did. It was fun. It really was a great memory-maker, but I couldn't help but think of how I should have been home with my newborn. I wanted to grab strangers and tell them that my baby had just died. We all (me, Gib and the girls) rode our first Ferris wheel together. It was fun, but the seat belt hurt my incision from my c-section. I remember being on the very top waiting for people below to load, looking out over the clear, dark, cold night and longing for my Baby Grady.
I remember coming home and after everyone was in bed, I watched my Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep DVD that I have of Grady and cried and cried. I couldn't talk to God, or rather I chose not to. Instead I got a brand new journal and just started writing. I thought maybe if I wrote my thoughts and feelings out, He would hear me still without me having to actually pray. (It wasn't until the end of January before I started speaking to God again. I'm not proud of that at all. I'm not boasting about it. It's just the truth. And believe me, I've asked for His forgiveness. I wish I could be as forgiving as Him. It's something I'm working on and something that I believe He's working on in me.)
I'm going to be very vulnerable and share with you what I wrote. I'm truly not sure why I'm writing this tonight, except that maybe I need to OR maybe someone needs to read it. Remember this was very early in my grief, just a couple of weeks after Grady's death. The pain was raw and real. Here goes...
Dear God,
I just don't understand! Why did you need Grady in heaven so bad? We wanted him here with us. I feel like you teased me with a pregnancy and a healthy baby and then cheated me at the end. We weren't going to have any more children. He was a surprise. I really felt like he was meant to be here & complete our family. I always would think of having more children but was so scared of going through the prematurity struggles again. I would always hear the words "ye of little faith" in my head. Lord, I trusted you and had faith that you would protect Baby Grady and bring him here healthy and safe. You did neither. He was alive in me one minute and gone the next. He will always be my son, my third child. I will cherish the 36 weeks and 5 days he spent growing inside of me - feeling his every move. But Lord it doesn't seem right and it's SO NOT FAIR! I know you have your reasons for taking him, but WHY HIM? WHY US? WHY ME AGAIN? Why did you take someone else that I love? Am I that bad of a person? Is this some sort of punishment? I just wish I knew! I try to remind myself often, even right now, that you have plans to prosper and not harm me, but it doesn't feel that way at this point in my life. There are people who don't want their babies, abuse them, even kill them. I am not one of those people. But you didn't take their babies from them. Lord, I'm hurt, heartbroken to the core, deeper than I ever thought I could hurt. I'm mad, confused, frustrated, feeling guilty and blaming myself for what I maybe could have done differently. Yet I am so thankful to you Lord for Gib, Jessica and Emma Grace - for the blessings that they are in my life. Lord, please don't take them from me too - PLEASE! I'm having a hard time praying right now, but I knew you would listen and know my heart even if I wrote it down. Lord, as much as I am hurting and blaming you for this - for taking Baby Grady - I do need your help to get through this. I can't do this alone. No one understands what I'm going through. This deep dark pit that I've fallen into and can't get out of. There's light all around me - Gib, the girls, the world keeps on moving - but there I am. Stuck. Lonely. Sad to the point of despair. It hurts so bad that it's hard to breathe at times. I know that time will make it easier but I'll never get over losing this precious baby boy. But Lord, I need help getting through this. The days are so long. My mind never stops. Everything plays over and over in my head. Now I'm starting to have regrets, but at the time we did what we thought was the right thing. I didn't want the girls to remember seeing their baby brother laying there lifeless. Now Jessica says she wanted to see him and my guess is that Emma Grace did too. We should have asked them - I feel so guilty about that. I was trying to protect their hearts as much as I could. I thought pictures would be good enough and then they could form their own images of him. Hopefully they will forgive me one day and I can forgive myself too. I wish that even though we took pictures, we didn't take enough. We should have taken more. I wish I had a picture of me holding him. I wish I had held him more, even though I was blessed to hold him as much as I did. I wish I had sang to him the songs the girls love for me to sing. Those are a few of my regrets. Most of all, I wish I was holding him right now or nursing him or wishing he would go to sleep because I was exhausted from being up all night with him. But instead the reality is, I'm writing in this journal, pouring my heart and feelings out to you God, desperately needing your help to work through this. In Jesus Name, Amen
So, I guess it was sort of a prayer, considering how I ended it.
It is amazing to see how far I've come in this grief process. I think about Grady and miss him every day. I always will. But there is no way you could have told me two years ago that I would be holding another baby boy who I'm madly in love with. I was never going to be pregnant again! I just knew my heart couldn't dare be set up for such heartache again.
But hold another boy I have been...And loving every minute of it! I'm so thankful God led us to the decision to try again. For if we had not, a true gift and blessing would have been squelched. I'm thankful for my whole family, and I'm thankful to be where I am right now.
Love,
Tonya
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Today.
Today.
Was.
Hard.
Harder than Friday by far.
This was the day that I was scheduled for my c-section with Grady. The day that, had he lived, he would have turned two.
This was also the day, two years ago, that I held him for the last time.
Kissed his sweet, soft, chubby cheek for the last time.
And told him goodbye.
For now.
I think it was harder this year because, in many ways, I don't feel validated in my grief anymore. I don't feel like I can really express my sadness over Grady. Even to my husband.
And for some crazy reason, every time I express grief or sadness, I immediately feel like I need to defend myself and proclaim my gratefulness for the blessing of my living children.
Crazy.
Joy and sorrow can co-exist. Grief and thankfulness can, too.
The End.
Was.
Hard.
Harder than Friday by far.
This was the day that I was scheduled for my c-section with Grady. The day that, had he lived, he would have turned two.
This was also the day, two years ago, that I held him for the last time.
Kissed his sweet, soft, chubby cheek for the last time.
And told him goodbye.
For now.
I think it was harder this year because, in many ways, I don't feel validated in my grief anymore. I don't feel like I can really express my sadness over Grady. Even to my husband.
And for some crazy reason, every time I express grief or sadness, I immediately feel like I need to defend myself and proclaim my gratefulness for the blessing of my living children.
Crazy.
Joy and sorrow can co-exist. Grief and thankfulness can, too.
The End.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Thoughts Today
I have no idea where this post is going or from where it is coming. I just need to write. So many things are floating around in my brain.
Yesterday, I couldn't get out of my mind the fact that it was the last full day Grady was alive two years ago. On said day, I was ignorantly blissful that we only had four days until he would be born. On this day today, we were down to three. Again, blinded as to what was to come. Excited about what was to be and who would be arriving in such a short time.
I can't help but think back to last year, too. So, to remember more clearly, I just read this post that I wrote a year ago. I was so thankful to my sweet friend Jenny for coming to give me a hug. For recognizing it was a tough time for me.
***Speaking of Jenny, she survived 94 days of bed rest and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl on November 5th. Her name is Ruth, and both mom and baby are home and doing well.***
It's tough this year, too. In some ways, I think it's harder than last year. I attribute that to the fact that my beautiful Matthew is here. Let me be very clear that he is his own person. Not one second do I mistake him for Grady or wish he was Grady or think he is Grady. However, Matthew is a living baby boy. Praise the Lord for the gift of his life! He is living, and as much as I would love to deny it, I can't. He is a reminder, in many ways, of who is not living. A reminder of someone who never had a chance at life outside of my womb.
And even though I've said it many times before, I will say this again...
I cannot imagine my life without Matthew!
Yet, I still grieve Grady.
And I know, truly know, that if Grady had lived, Matthew would not be here.
Gulp.
I can't choose between the two in my heart, nor do I want to. It becomes gray and cloudy. It is not black and white when it comes to my love and feelings for my two boys. Just like I could never choose between my two living little girls.
What IS very clear is this...
God's plan included Matthew as a living part of our family. God's plan for Grady was for him to live only inside of me. Grady's purpose was fulfilled in the 36 weeks and 4 days that his heart beat inside of me.
I can't tell you the number of people who have looked at Matthew and said, "See, everything happens for a reason." It happened just yesterday. It doesn't make me angry, but it does make me want to shout the importance of Grady's life and that Matthew doesn't take his place.
I know I'm a broken record. So, I'll stop.
I doubt that I will be able to retreat and journal to Grady this afternoon between 4:30 and 5 like I did last year around the time he died. In fact, it has been a very long time since I've written in my Grady journal. I will, however, sit at the dinner table and probably remember that's where I first suspected something wasn't right. I couldn't sit at the dinner table last year on this day.
Other thoughts to share...
I had an amazing "conversation" with Matthew a bit ago. He "talked" to me in his sweet, baby voice and flashed his cute smile, and I wished our video camera was charged. How terrible...we haven't videoed since we left the NICU. BAD MOM!
I am finally reading "The Secrets of the Baby Whisperer". I've had the book since Emma Grace was a baby. I went looking for my Dr. Sears "The Baby Book" and found that one instead. Seems I got rid of the other one. The book talks a lot about respecting your babies. I've always tried to respect my children, and I've been thinking a lot about those who don't.
Speaking of, as I was taking Emma Grace to school this morning, we came up to a stop sign to see an unpleasant exchange between a young boy and his father. This boy was clearly upset, trying to fight back tears. His father was angry and the boy snatched his book from him just as the bus came. As the father walked away, the boy yelled something across the street. My heart literally broke for that boy. I prayed aloud for him as we left the subdivision. I don't know details and the boy could have clearly been in the wrong. But, as parents, we set the tone for our children's day. Don't get me wrong. There are definitely mornings when things don't go as smoothly as I would like. But I always try to send the girls off with them knowing I love them and with things resolved so they don't dread coming home or carry the situation with them throughout their day. I'm afraid that young boy isn't very happy today nor is he going to want to go home this afternoon...
I'm trying hard to get Matthew to love sleeping in his crib. He struggles to go to sleep, and I've never been one to let my babies cry it out. He will go to sleep, but he won't stay asleep. I haven't tried at night yet. I'm just still trying to get him to nap well in his crib. He's having a bit harder of a time than the girls did. I'm open to suggestions!
I've always loved the ultimate crib sheets for babies. It was my most favorite baby product with the girls because I never had to change the fitted crib sheet. But I noticed with the two new ones I have that they smell awful. I wash them, but there is a "chemical" smell to them. Well, turns out the lining on the new ones is now made of PVC. I don't even have a PVC shower liner in the girls' shower! It is still on Matthew's bed for now, but rest assured it won't stay. As I was feeding him last night, I got the idea to make my own. They can't be that hard, especially if using the current ones as a guide. I'm hoping to enlist Aunt Barbara's help, and if she can't help me, I'll have to find someone else who can sew. I can't stand the thought of Matthew inhaling those chemicals.
I think we will make cupcakes this year for Grady's birthday. I don't think I'm up for another rainbow cake. When making cupcakes, I usually go for white cake with vanilla frosting. But, I really love yellow cake with chocolate icing. If I make those, we can put blue letters on top of them to spell his name and whatever else we would like to say. Well, within 24 characters at least. We talked about going out to dinner. We'll see...
I wonder if this day is celebrated in heaven? The one when someone enters the pearly gates to sit/stand at Jesus's feet and walk streets of gold... If so, I'm sure it's an amazing time. I can only imagine!
Love,
Tonya
Yesterday, I couldn't get out of my mind the fact that it was the last full day Grady was alive two years ago. On said day, I was ignorantly blissful that we only had four days until he would be born. On this day today, we were down to three. Again, blinded as to what was to come. Excited about what was to be and who would be arriving in such a short time.
I can't help but think back to last year, too. So, to remember more clearly, I just read this post that I wrote a year ago. I was so thankful to my sweet friend Jenny for coming to give me a hug. For recognizing it was a tough time for me.
***Speaking of Jenny, she survived 94 days of bed rest and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl on November 5th. Her name is Ruth, and both mom and baby are home and doing well.***
It's tough this year, too. In some ways, I think it's harder than last year. I attribute that to the fact that my beautiful Matthew is here. Let me be very clear that he is his own person. Not one second do I mistake him for Grady or wish he was Grady or think he is Grady. However, Matthew is a living baby boy. Praise the Lord for the gift of his life! He is living, and as much as I would love to deny it, I can't. He is a reminder, in many ways, of who is not living. A reminder of someone who never had a chance at life outside of my womb.
And even though I've said it many times before, I will say this again...
I cannot imagine my life without Matthew!
Yet, I still grieve Grady.
And I know, truly know, that if Grady had lived, Matthew would not be here.
Gulp.
I can't choose between the two in my heart, nor do I want to. It becomes gray and cloudy. It is not black and white when it comes to my love and feelings for my two boys. Just like I could never choose between my two living little girls.
What IS very clear is this...
God's plan included Matthew as a living part of our family. God's plan for Grady was for him to live only inside of me. Grady's purpose was fulfilled in the 36 weeks and 4 days that his heart beat inside of me.
I can't tell you the number of people who have looked at Matthew and said, "See, everything happens for a reason." It happened just yesterday. It doesn't make me angry, but it does make me want to shout the importance of Grady's life and that Matthew doesn't take his place.
I know I'm a broken record. So, I'll stop.
I doubt that I will be able to retreat and journal to Grady this afternoon between 4:30 and 5 like I did last year around the time he died. In fact, it has been a very long time since I've written in my Grady journal. I will, however, sit at the dinner table and probably remember that's where I first suspected something wasn't right. I couldn't sit at the dinner table last year on this day.
Other thoughts to share...
I had an amazing "conversation" with Matthew a bit ago. He "talked" to me in his sweet, baby voice and flashed his cute smile, and I wished our video camera was charged. How terrible...we haven't videoed since we left the NICU. BAD MOM!
I am finally reading "The Secrets of the Baby Whisperer". I've had the book since Emma Grace was a baby. I went looking for my Dr. Sears "The Baby Book" and found that one instead. Seems I got rid of the other one. The book talks a lot about respecting your babies. I've always tried to respect my children, and I've been thinking a lot about those who don't.
Speaking of, as I was taking Emma Grace to school this morning, we came up to a stop sign to see an unpleasant exchange between a young boy and his father. This boy was clearly upset, trying to fight back tears. His father was angry and the boy snatched his book from him just as the bus came. As the father walked away, the boy yelled something across the street. My heart literally broke for that boy. I prayed aloud for him as we left the subdivision. I don't know details and the boy could have clearly been in the wrong. But, as parents, we set the tone for our children's day. Don't get me wrong. There are definitely mornings when things don't go as smoothly as I would like. But I always try to send the girls off with them knowing I love them and with things resolved so they don't dread coming home or carry the situation with them throughout their day. I'm afraid that young boy isn't very happy today nor is he going to want to go home this afternoon...
I'm trying hard to get Matthew to love sleeping in his crib. He struggles to go to sleep, and I've never been one to let my babies cry it out. He will go to sleep, but he won't stay asleep. I haven't tried at night yet. I'm just still trying to get him to nap well in his crib. He's having a bit harder of a time than the girls did. I'm open to suggestions!
I've always loved the ultimate crib sheets for babies. It was my most favorite baby product with the girls because I never had to change the fitted crib sheet. But I noticed with the two new ones I have that they smell awful. I wash them, but there is a "chemical" smell to them. Well, turns out the lining on the new ones is now made of PVC. I don't even have a PVC shower liner in the girls' shower! It is still on Matthew's bed for now, but rest assured it won't stay. As I was feeding him last night, I got the idea to make my own. They can't be that hard, especially if using the current ones as a guide. I'm hoping to enlist Aunt Barbara's help, and if she can't help me, I'll have to find someone else who can sew. I can't stand the thought of Matthew inhaling those chemicals.
I think we will make cupcakes this year for Grady's birthday. I don't think I'm up for another rainbow cake. When making cupcakes, I usually go for white cake with vanilla frosting. But, I really love yellow cake with chocolate icing. If I make those, we can put blue letters on top of them to spell his name and whatever else we would like to say. Well, within 24 characters at least. We talked about going out to dinner. We'll see...
I wonder if this day is celebrated in heaven? The one when someone enters the pearly gates to sit/stand at Jesus's feet and walk streets of gold... If so, I'm sure it's an amazing time. I can only imagine!
Love,
Tonya
Sunday, November 7, 2010
An Unexpected Turn
Yeah, I know. I need to complete my pumpkin patch post. And I will.
But this is easy to post because it's just words. No pictures.
I went to a Pampered Chef party yesterday at my friend Amy Ellen's. I had been looking forward to it for a while and was super excited about ordering one of their can openers. Toward the end of the party, I was in the kitchen talking to several of the ladies. Somehow Grady was brought up. I honestly don't remember how his name was mentioned, but it happened naturally.
I knew one of the ladies from the preschool when she would pick up her granddaughters. She started asking questions about him and soon everyone was listening to the story of Grady. I loved it. And yet, I didn't. I always love talking about Grady. Honoring him by talking about him. Remembering him with others who didn't even know him, or me for that matter.
As the questions continued, Amy Ellen quietly got up and opened her cabinet. She pulled out Grady's birth announcement.
Wow!
I couldn't believe she still had it from two years ago. I can't tell you how that touched my heart. (Thank you AE!) She handed it to the grandmother who then passed it around to the other ladies. I'm not real sure how they felt about looking at a dead baby, but tears welled up in their eyes as they gazed upon him.
I can tell you that I was feeling quite proud of my Grady in that moment. The beautiful boy that God created so perfectly inside of me two years ago.
That really wasn't how I pictured the party in my mind in the days leading up to it. It definitely took an unexpected turn, one that I'm not sure was okay or not. But it was what it was. They encouraged the conversation to continue. But I guess I needed to talk about him, too.
It is amazing how strong these feelings of grief still are...
And it's amazing that I'm feeling like this year might be harder than last when it comes to his heaven day and birthday.
Sigh.
Love,
Tonya
But this is easy to post because it's just words. No pictures.
I went to a Pampered Chef party yesterday at my friend Amy Ellen's. I had been looking forward to it for a while and was super excited about ordering one of their can openers. Toward the end of the party, I was in the kitchen talking to several of the ladies. Somehow Grady was brought up. I honestly don't remember how his name was mentioned, but it happened naturally.
I knew one of the ladies from the preschool when she would pick up her granddaughters. She started asking questions about him and soon everyone was listening to the story of Grady. I loved it. And yet, I didn't. I always love talking about Grady. Honoring him by talking about him. Remembering him with others who didn't even know him, or me for that matter.
As the questions continued, Amy Ellen quietly got up and opened her cabinet. She pulled out Grady's birth announcement.
Wow!
I couldn't believe she still had it from two years ago. I can't tell you how that touched my heart. (Thank you AE!) She handed it to the grandmother who then passed it around to the other ladies. I'm not real sure how they felt about looking at a dead baby, but tears welled up in their eyes as they gazed upon him.
I can tell you that I was feeling quite proud of my Grady in that moment. The beautiful boy that God created so perfectly inside of me two years ago.
That really wasn't how I pictured the party in my mind in the days leading up to it. It definitely took an unexpected turn, one that I'm not sure was okay or not. But it was what it was. They encouraged the conversation to continue. But I guess I needed to talk about him, too.
It is amazing how strong these feelings of grief still are...
And it's amazing that I'm feeling like this year might be harder than last when it comes to his heaven day and birthday.
Sigh.
Love,
Tonya
Monday, October 25, 2010
Cloudy With a Chance of Rain
That's not the forecast here. No, indeed the rain is already here. And storms are on the way.
I am "cloudy with a chance of rain".
Or maybe it's just my heart.
But truly I feel like it's my entire being. I feel like I have clouds hanging over, around and in me.
Some are light and airy, like the beautiful white cotton balls you sometimes see in a crystal blue sky on a mostly sunny day. Those clouds are there, reminding me of the beautiful blessings in my life. For the good things. Because I am fully aware that there are many people in this world, even in my own family and circle of friends, who aren't as fortunate as I. And I know it. I'm not referring to material possessions. I'm talking about everything, including a relationship with the Lord. I'm overcome with gratefulness.
There are clouds floating around inside of me that are gray, similar to when there is a just a chance of rain. These clouds, unfortunately, remind me of the things that could happen. They are filled with fear. And worry. I'm trying to remind myself of a quote I heard in church a couple of weeks ago...
"Worry is a down payment on something in the future that may or may not ever happen."
I try to keep that in perspective when fear and worry and anxiety creep in. But it's hard. And it's hard work to focus on what is good and what is now. Because the good so often gets clouded over with the bad or the "what if's" of life.
Sigh.
Lately, dark, stormy clouds have slowly been rolling in.
I am not consumed by them.
Not yet.
But I feel myself being unable to keep them out.
As the weather outside continues to change and become more beautiful in this autumn season, the weather inside of me is becoming more unstable.
Stormy.
Heavy.
Dark clouds filled with lots of rain, accompanied by crashing thunder and vivid lightning are rolling in.
The rain could fall at any moment. I feel it building and resting at the base of my throat. I feel as if the room inside my chest is decreasing, and at times the heaviness of it makes it hard to get a deep breath.
As Grady's second birthday approaches, I remember.
Everything.
The good, the very bad and the extreme ugliness of what followed. The ignorance of what I was feeling this time two years ago. Completely unaware of how our world was about to crash around us.
I told Gib last night that I feel like this year might harder and worse than last year. I'm not sure why. It makes me feel a little crazy. Okay. A lot crazy. Like something is terribly wrong with me.
I have a beautiful son and two beautiful daughters here on earth that I am extremely thankful for. I have a husband who loves me, and to this day, I can't figure out why he continues to put up with me.
But none of that takes away my love and deep longing for Baby Grady. I am convinced when I am 80 years old (if I live that long!), I will still feel this way. It never goes away. I might not need to talk about it as much as the years pass, but I will always remember and wonder and love him from this side of heaven.
(Thank you Aimee for sending this up to Grady at the Walk to Remember since we couldn't be there!)
So...the clouds have arrived and are going to hang around for a while. As the month of November quickly approaches, I'm going to try to focus on the sunshine and white, puffy clouds more than the gray and dark clouds.
Try is the key word.
It's much easier said than done.
I expect the rain to come though, sooner or later...
Love,
Tonya
I am "cloudy with a chance of rain".
Or maybe it's just my heart.
But truly I feel like it's my entire being. I feel like I have clouds hanging over, around and in me.
Some are light and airy, like the beautiful white cotton balls you sometimes see in a crystal blue sky on a mostly sunny day. Those clouds are there, reminding me of the beautiful blessings in my life. For the good things. Because I am fully aware that there are many people in this world, even in my own family and circle of friends, who aren't as fortunate as I. And I know it. I'm not referring to material possessions. I'm talking about everything, including a relationship with the Lord. I'm overcome with gratefulness.
There are clouds floating around inside of me that are gray, similar to when there is a just a chance of rain. These clouds, unfortunately, remind me of the things that could happen. They are filled with fear. And worry. I'm trying to remind myself of a quote I heard in church a couple of weeks ago...
"Worry is a down payment on something in the future that may or may not ever happen."
I try to keep that in perspective when fear and worry and anxiety creep in. But it's hard. And it's hard work to focus on what is good and what is now. Because the good so often gets clouded over with the bad or the "what if's" of life.
Sigh.
Lately, dark, stormy clouds have slowly been rolling in.
I am not consumed by them.
Not yet.
But I feel myself being unable to keep them out.
As the weather outside continues to change and become more beautiful in this autumn season, the weather inside of me is becoming more unstable.
Stormy.
Heavy.
Dark clouds filled with lots of rain, accompanied by crashing thunder and vivid lightning are rolling in.
The rain could fall at any moment. I feel it building and resting at the base of my throat. I feel as if the room inside my chest is decreasing, and at times the heaviness of it makes it hard to get a deep breath.
As Grady's second birthday approaches, I remember.
Everything.
The good, the very bad and the extreme ugliness of what followed. The ignorance of what I was feeling this time two years ago. Completely unaware of how our world was about to crash around us.
I told Gib last night that I feel like this year might harder and worse than last year. I'm not sure why. It makes me feel a little crazy. Okay. A lot crazy. Like something is terribly wrong with me.
I have a beautiful son and two beautiful daughters here on earth that I am extremely thankful for. I have a husband who loves me, and to this day, I can't figure out why he continues to put up with me.
But none of that takes away my love and deep longing for Baby Grady. I am convinced when I am 80 years old (if I live that long!), I will still feel this way. It never goes away. I might not need to talk about it as much as the years pass, but I will always remember and wonder and love him from this side of heaven.
(Thank you Aimee for sending this up to Grady at the Walk to Remember since we couldn't be there!)
So...the clouds have arrived and are going to hang around for a while. As the month of November quickly approaches, I'm going to try to focus on the sunshine and white, puffy clouds more than the gray and dark clouds.
Try is the key word.
It's much easier said than done.
I expect the rain to come though, sooner or later...
Love,
Tonya
Saturday, September 18, 2010
A Time to Remember
Anyone who has the crazy, messed up, misconstrued idea that the baby who is born after a baby dies is a "replacement baby" really is just that. CRAZY!
I had a bereavement committee meeting yesterday at the hospital. I realized shortly after getting there that I would have to walk right past thecloset room I was in with Grady to get there. (The room was extremely small!)
SIGH.
My plan was to keep my head high and walk right by. It didn't quite play out that way...
I was in a corner room. When I turned the corner I couldn't help but look to my left.
And there it was.
Door open. Lights dim. Bed ready and waiting for a patient.
I was drawn in by a power that is not my own. I walked in the door and just stood there. Taking it all in. Like I had just been there. Tears filling my eyes. Heart as heavy as if there were a ton of bricks resting on it.
The bed where, on my chest, I cuddled my baby who was gone all too soon.
The wall space where his bassinet stayed. The place he was when not in my arms.
But the place my eyes were drawn to the most was the far side of the bed. The place where Gib and I last kissed Grady's sweet cheek. The place where I swaddled him and placed him in the basket the funeral home brought for him. The place where Gib and I collapsed into each others arms after he was gone.
The irony of this moment is that I was standing there with Matthew snuggled and sleeping on my chest in my baby wrap.
I don't think I can accurately put into words what I felt and am still feeling today. One baby here. One baby gone. One heart beating. One heart not. Both equally special. Both forever living in my heart. But clearly two different, separate, special, precious people.
Standing there, again knowing that if Grady had lived, Matthew wouldn't be here. No words...
Even though I had to physically say goodbye to Grady, I will never really say goodbye. I know that we will be together again in heaven one day and for that, I am so very grateful. Thank you, Jesus! But Grady is alive in my heart and mind every single day that I live on this earth. Even now that Matthew is here. One baby doesn't replace the other.
Aimee, my friend and leader of the support group that I attended for so long, sent me this song. If you have a moment and want to, listen to it. Make sure to scroll down and mute my music first! I have a feeling all of you baby loss mommy's will be able to relate. It's perfect.
And as painful as it is to let myself go into these deep places of emotion and grief again, it's often where I feel the closest to Grady.
I couldn't linger long in that room because I had to get to my meeting. I had to quickly compose myself, and outwardly, I did a pretty good job.
As Matthew and I were leaving, he was awake. We paused at the door, and I told him that was where his big brother once was. But not to worry. Because one day he would get to meet him, too.
Love,
Tonya
I had a bereavement committee meeting yesterday at the hospital. I realized shortly after getting there that I would have to walk right past the
SIGH.
My plan was to keep my head high and walk right by. It didn't quite play out that way...
I was in a corner room. When I turned the corner I couldn't help but look to my left.
And there it was.
Door open. Lights dim. Bed ready and waiting for a patient.
I was drawn in by a power that is not my own. I walked in the door and just stood there. Taking it all in. Like I had just been there. Tears filling my eyes. Heart as heavy as if there were a ton of bricks resting on it.
The bed where, on my chest, I cuddled my baby who was gone all too soon.
The wall space where his bassinet stayed. The place he was when not in my arms.
But the place my eyes were drawn to the most was the far side of the bed. The place where Gib and I last kissed Grady's sweet cheek. The place where I swaddled him and placed him in the basket the funeral home brought for him. The place where Gib and I collapsed into each others arms after he was gone.
The irony of this moment is that I was standing there with Matthew snuggled and sleeping on my chest in my baby wrap.
I don't think I can accurately put into words what I felt and am still feeling today. One baby here. One baby gone. One heart beating. One heart not. Both equally special. Both forever living in my heart. But clearly two different, separate, special, precious people.
Standing there, again knowing that if Grady had lived, Matthew wouldn't be here. No words...
Even though I had to physically say goodbye to Grady, I will never really say goodbye. I know that we will be together again in heaven one day and for that, I am so very grateful. Thank you, Jesus! But Grady is alive in my heart and mind every single day that I live on this earth. Even now that Matthew is here. One baby doesn't replace the other.
Aimee, my friend and leader of the support group that I attended for so long, sent me this song. If you have a moment and want to, listen to it. Make sure to scroll down and mute my music first! I have a feeling all of you baby loss mommy's will be able to relate. It's perfect.
And as painful as it is to let myself go into these deep places of emotion and grief again, it's often where I feel the closest to Grady.
I couldn't linger long in that room because I had to get to my meeting. I had to quickly compose myself, and outwardly, I did a pretty good job.
As Matthew and I were leaving, he was awake. We paused at the door, and I told him that was where his big brother once was. But not to worry. Because one day he would get to meet him, too.
Love,
Tonya
Friday, August 13, 2010
Glad. Sad. Mad.
I'm not sure this post is going to come together like I want it to, especially in the amount of time I have to write it. But, here goes...
(For the record, I started it this morning and have just finished it at 2:25pm)
These are feelings that I've experienced since I was admitted to the high risk unit on July 13th. When I was on bed rest in the hospital, I eluded to a post of this title and truly thought I would write it while there. That was before I knew how absolutely terrible the internet connection was.
Fast forward...
I thought I would only be feeling the "glad" part now that Matthew is here and alive and healthy.
Nope.
Not that easy for me.
I'm a very sensitive person anyway. Add to that postpartum hormonal changes and lack of sleep and well, this is what you get.
While in the hospital, before Matthew was born, I was sad... Sad to be away from Gib and the girls. I was hoping to be in the hospital a long time and didn't like the thought of being away for so long. Little did I know that I would only be there a week.
I was also mad. Mad at my body. Mad at my uterus that it couldn't and wouldn't behave. I was mad at myself for not getting more done earlier on to prepare for Matthew. Truth is I was scared. I had bonded with him and loved him, but as far as physically preparing a place for him in our home, I was going to wait as long as possible to see if he lived or not. (may sound grim but don't forget that was our reality once before)
But in spite of feeling sad and mad, I was also glad. Glad to have a doctor who was super conservative and not willing to take any chances with me. Glad to be in the hospital just in case something did happen. Glad, at the time, to have the option of medications that could quiet my irritable uterus (that is until even the strongest of medications didn't touch those pesky contractions!). Glad to have the support of my hubby, girls and many family and friends.
Then Matthew was born...
I was so glad he was here, "alive, pink and breathing", as Dr. L from the NICU said.
But at the same time, I was sad he had to be in the NICU, even though I knew that NICU was better than death. I was sad to be away from him. But if he had to be in the NICU, I was so glad he was there. It was almost like a reunion with so many of the nurses who took care of Emma Grace, and it was like being with family when those I've kept in touch with were around. I knew that Matthew was being taken care of exceptionally well. Not just because of my connections, but because they are a great bunch of docs and nurses who genuinely care for all of the babies who reside there.
I was mad, too. Mad that nothing can be easy. Mad that my body failed me, yet again. Mad that nothing seems to work out as we plan. It's not about us or our plans, I know that! At times, though, it seems that when I look around, the plans that others make come to fruition without even a small glitch. I know...get over it.
I'm trying.
Fast forward again to today.
God love me. I'm still feeling glad, mad and sad.
SIGH.
Why?
Well, I'm glad you asked.
I am SO, SO, SO very glad to have Matthew. And Jessica. And Emma Grace. And Gib. And Grady in heaven. And a God who loves me unconditionally and has plans for me that are better than I could ever imagine or plan myself.
But I'm sad that I'm done having children. As crazy as it sounds, even after everything we've been through, I would entertain the idea of having another baby. Gib, on the other hand, who must have a say in it all, does not share my feelings on this matter. Thus, the end of babies for our family. Not to mention the fact that Dr. Joe would most certainly fire me as his patient if I got pregnant again. Which I'm not going to do...I'm just saying...and I wouldn't want anyone else as my doctor.
But here's where the mad part comes in. It's not just that we're done having babies. It's the fact that that decision has pretty much been made for me. Physically, my uterus cannot carry another pregnancy and hold another baby. It's just not possible. Especially since they keep getting bigger with each one!
Now please don't misunderstand me. It may sound like I'm ungrateful which couldn't be further from the truth. I am incredibly thankful that I was even able to get pregnant. I can think of at least a handful of people off the top of my head who have a hard time even conceiving. And my heart breaks for them. I was able to be pregnant five times which is a blessing (just for the record I had a very early miscarriage in 2005 which might have been a blighted ovum).
But as I was talking to my friend Jenny the other day, we agreed that when a decision is made for you, it's much harder to swallow. Even though we were "done" after Matthew, pregnancy isn't even an option for me again. And that's where the mad part comes in, I guess.
I feel like I've rambled my way through this post. I hope you were able to follow at least a little and make some sense of it. As I'm typing, I'm thinking this could be alternately titled, "Grief of a different kind". Because that's exactly what I'm doing...grieving what didn't happen and what can't happen in the future.
It's all good though. Just working through this emotional junk. Not getting too bogged down in it but knowing it's there and lies dormant under the surface. Praising the Lord for what I have and knowing I wouldn't trade any of it for anything in the world. Even the heartache and pain of losing Grady and missing him every day. Grady, who by the way, would have turned 21 months old yesterday. Hard to believe!
And before I go, please add my friend Tessa to your prayer list. She is 27 weeks pregnant with twin boys and is now on strict bedrest at home. And my friend Jenny, who I mentioned in an earlier post, is also home on bedrest and doing well. Thanks for lifting them up!
Love,
Tonya
(For the record, I started it this morning and have just finished it at 2:25pm)
These are feelings that I've experienced since I was admitted to the high risk unit on July 13th. When I was on bed rest in the hospital, I eluded to a post of this title and truly thought I would write it while there. That was before I knew how absolutely terrible the internet connection was.
Fast forward...
I thought I would only be feeling the "glad" part now that Matthew is here and alive and healthy.
Nope.
Not that easy for me.
I'm a very sensitive person anyway. Add to that postpartum hormonal changes and lack of sleep and well, this is what you get.
While in the hospital, before Matthew was born, I was sad... Sad to be away from Gib and the girls. I was hoping to be in the hospital a long time and didn't like the thought of being away for so long. Little did I know that I would only be there a week.
I was also mad. Mad at my body. Mad at my uterus that it couldn't and wouldn't behave. I was mad at myself for not getting more done earlier on to prepare for Matthew. Truth is I was scared. I had bonded with him and loved him, but as far as physically preparing a place for him in our home, I was going to wait as long as possible to see if he lived or not. (may sound grim but don't forget that was our reality once before)
But in spite of feeling sad and mad, I was also glad. Glad to have a doctor who was super conservative and not willing to take any chances with me. Glad to be in the hospital just in case something did happen. Glad, at the time, to have the option of medications that could quiet my irritable uterus (that is until even the strongest of medications didn't touch those pesky contractions!). Glad to have the support of my hubby, girls and many family and friends.
Then Matthew was born...
I was so glad he was here, "alive, pink and breathing", as Dr. L from the NICU said.
But at the same time, I was sad he had to be in the NICU, even though I knew that NICU was better than death. I was sad to be away from him. But if he had to be in the NICU, I was so glad he was there. It was almost like a reunion with so many of the nurses who took care of Emma Grace, and it was like being with family when those I've kept in touch with were around. I knew that Matthew was being taken care of exceptionally well. Not just because of my connections, but because they are a great bunch of docs and nurses who genuinely care for all of the babies who reside there.
I was mad, too. Mad that nothing can be easy. Mad that my body failed me, yet again. Mad that nothing seems to work out as we plan. It's not about us or our plans, I know that! At times, though, it seems that when I look around, the plans that others make come to fruition without even a small glitch. I know...get over it.
I'm trying.
Fast forward again to today.
God love me. I'm still feeling glad, mad and sad.
SIGH.
Why?
Well, I'm glad you asked.
I am SO, SO, SO very glad to have Matthew. And Jessica. And Emma Grace. And Gib. And Grady in heaven. And a God who loves me unconditionally and has plans for me that are better than I could ever imagine or plan myself.
But I'm sad that I'm done having children. As crazy as it sounds, even after everything we've been through, I would entertain the idea of having another baby. Gib, on the other hand, who must have a say in it all, does not share my feelings on this matter. Thus, the end of babies for our family. Not to mention the fact that Dr. Joe would most certainly fire me as his patient if I got pregnant again. Which I'm not going to do...I'm just saying...and I wouldn't want anyone else as my doctor.
But here's where the mad part comes in. It's not just that we're done having babies. It's the fact that that decision has pretty much been made for me. Physically, my uterus cannot carry another pregnancy and hold another baby. It's just not possible. Especially since they keep getting bigger with each one!
Now please don't misunderstand me. It may sound like I'm ungrateful which couldn't be further from the truth. I am incredibly thankful that I was even able to get pregnant. I can think of at least a handful of people off the top of my head who have a hard time even conceiving. And my heart breaks for them. I was able to be pregnant five times which is a blessing (just for the record I had a very early miscarriage in 2005 which might have been a blighted ovum).
But as I was talking to my friend Jenny the other day, we agreed that when a decision is made for you, it's much harder to swallow. Even though we were "done" after Matthew, pregnancy isn't even an option for me again. And that's where the mad part comes in, I guess.
I feel like I've rambled my way through this post. I hope you were able to follow at least a little and make some sense of it. As I'm typing, I'm thinking this could be alternately titled, "Grief of a different kind". Because that's exactly what I'm doing...grieving what didn't happen and what can't happen in the future.
It's all good though. Just working through this emotional junk. Not getting too bogged down in it but knowing it's there and lies dormant under the surface. Praising the Lord for what I have and knowing I wouldn't trade any of it for anything in the world. Even the heartache and pain of losing Grady and missing him every day. Grady, who by the way, would have turned 21 months old yesterday. Hard to believe!
And before I go, please add my friend Tessa to your prayer list. She is 27 weeks pregnant with twin boys and is now on strict bedrest at home. And my friend Jenny, who I mentioned in an earlier post, is also home on bedrest and doing well. Thanks for lifting them up!
Love,
Tonya
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
18 months
18 months.
A year and a half.
18 months since the words, "I don't see a heartbeat either" changed my life forever.
18 months since I held this precious boy for the first time.
It's hard for me to believe that 18 months have passed. Time is a weird thing. On one hand, it seems like only yesterday...on the other, it seems like an eternity.
What does grief look like for me 18 months later?
Let me assure you it is still ever-present in my life.
Every.Single.Day.
It has gotten better. Time has definitely healed my heart to a certain degree. But there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about and miss Grady. There will always be a hole in my heart...the piece of my heart that belongs only to him. That longs for my baby boy who isn't here with me and will never be this side of heaven.
I have found lately that grief strikes when I least expect it, even 18 months later. I might be in church, the grocery store, at work...it doesn't matter. Something can be said or I can see something that takes me right back to that deep, dark lonely place of grief that I experienced for so long.
But it is better. And for that I'm thankful.
I don't cry for Grady everyday like I used to. I wish he was here everyday. And I will get teary-eyed at times. But the tears haven't flowed uncontrollably in a while.
My heart still feels heavy at times, but it isn't the crushing, suffocating feeling that used to be there on a continuous, daily basis.
There are days when I can hardly think of anything but him. Days where I relive the events of November 12, 2008 vividly in my mind. Those are bad days for me. I feel scattered and overwhelmed. Those are the days where I wish I could just sleep the day away, knowing Jessica and Emma Grace are cared for and safe. These days are not as frequent as they were in the beginning. And that's a blessing for sure!
I still have a hard time seeing newborn baby boys. And I still have a hard time hearing a newborn cry. That might be putting it mildly if you read this post.
And I still have a very hard time seeing little boys who are the age that Grady would be. Seeing them and how they are developing, hearing them talk, etc. automatically takes me to thoughts of Grady...wondering if he would be about the same or different.
I don't journal as often as I did in my Grady journal. I feel a bit guilty about that, but I think it shows progress and healing. I think it's a positive thing for sure.
I still have his beautiful blue blanket on my bed with me every night (the one he is swaddled in in the picture above). However, I don't clutch it tightly to my chest all the time. It mostly stays on my pillow above my head when I'm sleeping, and it lives under the pillows when the bed is made. But the past couple of weeks, I've found myself needing to hold it tight again. It still helps me feel close to him since that is what he was swaddled in and the blanket I used when I kangaroo-ed him in the hospital.
His room is still just as it was. I never had the heart to take it down and put his things away. His clothes are still neatly folded in his drawers and hung in his closet. The diaper bag is hanging on the closet door.
I still find myself dealing with insensitive people who think I should be "over it". I expect this to be an on-going battle. It is still a challenge 18 months later to be polite and explain that when your child dies, you don't just "get over it". It's frustrating, but unfortunately, I've come to expect it.
I still struggle with regrets, but don't dwell on them. I would still give anything to have pictures of me and our family with Grady and not just pictures of him alone. I wish I had given my girls the opportunity and choice to see their baby brother in person, not just in pictures. I wish I had a mold of his hand and foot. I think about these things and more. My heart pangs and hurts. But I have to move on. What else can I do? I have to remember I was in shock and did the best I could under the circumstances with the direction I was given. The past can't be changed. But I can help change the future for someone else going through the same thing...I haven't given up on that mission to be at the bedside of grieving mothers. I believe with every ounce of my being that it is my calling in life. I just have to be patient and wait on God's timing and His opening of the right doors.
We still talk about Grady on a regular basis in our home. At least once a day, either myself or the girls will bring him up. Occasionally Gib does, too. I love it because it keeps his spirit alive outwardly, just as it is alive in our hearts. It makes me sad at times, but mostly it warms my heart.
I love you sweet boy! Sending you love, hugs and kisses to heaven! You will forever be alive in my heart! Until we meet one day... Mommy
A year and a half.
18 months since the words, "I don't see a heartbeat either" changed my life forever.
18 months since I held this precious boy for the first time.
It's hard for me to believe that 18 months have passed. Time is a weird thing. On one hand, it seems like only yesterday...on the other, it seems like an eternity.
What does grief look like for me 18 months later?
Let me assure you it is still ever-present in my life.
Every.Single.Day.
It has gotten better. Time has definitely healed my heart to a certain degree. But there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about and miss Grady. There will always be a hole in my heart...the piece of my heart that belongs only to him. That longs for my baby boy who isn't here with me and will never be this side of heaven.
I have found lately that grief strikes when I least expect it, even 18 months later. I might be in church, the grocery store, at work...it doesn't matter. Something can be said or I can see something that takes me right back to that deep, dark lonely place of grief that I experienced for so long.
But it is better. And for that I'm thankful.
I don't cry for Grady everyday like I used to. I wish he was here everyday. And I will get teary-eyed at times. But the tears haven't flowed uncontrollably in a while.
My heart still feels heavy at times, but it isn't the crushing, suffocating feeling that used to be there on a continuous, daily basis.
There are days when I can hardly think of anything but him. Days where I relive the events of November 12, 2008 vividly in my mind. Those are bad days for me. I feel scattered and overwhelmed. Those are the days where I wish I could just sleep the day away, knowing Jessica and Emma Grace are cared for and safe. These days are not as frequent as they were in the beginning. And that's a blessing for sure!
I still have a hard time seeing newborn baby boys. And I still have a hard time hearing a newborn cry. That might be putting it mildly if you read this post.
And I still have a very hard time seeing little boys who are the age that Grady would be. Seeing them and how they are developing, hearing them talk, etc. automatically takes me to thoughts of Grady...wondering if he would be about the same or different.
I don't journal as often as I did in my Grady journal. I feel a bit guilty about that, but I think it shows progress and healing. I think it's a positive thing for sure.
I still have his beautiful blue blanket on my bed with me every night (the one he is swaddled in in the picture above). However, I don't clutch it tightly to my chest all the time. It mostly stays on my pillow above my head when I'm sleeping, and it lives under the pillows when the bed is made. But the past couple of weeks, I've found myself needing to hold it tight again. It still helps me feel close to him since that is what he was swaddled in and the blanket I used when I kangaroo-ed him in the hospital.
His room is still just as it was. I never had the heart to take it down and put his things away. His clothes are still neatly folded in his drawers and hung in his closet. The diaper bag is hanging on the closet door.
I still find myself dealing with insensitive people who think I should be "over it". I expect this to be an on-going battle. It is still a challenge 18 months later to be polite and explain that when your child dies, you don't just "get over it". It's frustrating, but unfortunately, I've come to expect it.
I still struggle with regrets, but don't dwell on them. I would still give anything to have pictures of me and our family with Grady and not just pictures of him alone. I wish I had given my girls the opportunity and choice to see their baby brother in person, not just in pictures. I wish I had a mold of his hand and foot. I think about these things and more. My heart pangs and hurts. But I have to move on. What else can I do? I have to remember I was in shock and did the best I could under the circumstances with the direction I was given. The past can't be changed. But I can help change the future for someone else going through the same thing...I haven't given up on that mission to be at the bedside of grieving mothers. I believe with every ounce of my being that it is my calling in life. I just have to be patient and wait on God's timing and His opening of the right doors.
We still talk about Grady on a regular basis in our home. At least once a day, either myself or the girls will bring him up. Occasionally Gib does, too. I love it because it keeps his spirit alive outwardly, just as it is alive in our hearts. It makes me sad at times, but mostly it warms my heart.
I love you sweet boy! Sending you love, hugs and kisses to heaven! You will forever be alive in my heart! Until we meet one day... Mommy
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
I Miss Her
I think this is going to become my new best time to blog. E.A.R.L.Y. in the mornings. But what am I talking about? I haven't made any specific time lately my time to blog! But, I'm trying hard. Really. I am.
You know that Gib wakes up in, what I consider, the middle of the night to go to work. I've not been able to go back to sleep after he leaves between 4:30 and 5:00. And I can no longer just rest comfortably in bed until it's time to get up. I have a terrible pain in the side of my right leg that is worse than any sciatica I've ever had. I'm seeing a chiropractor, but it's not helping. Yet. The only thing I can do is get up, and it eventually eases but never completely goes away.
So, here I am. Bright and early in the blog world!
Gib scanned a picture of Dumplin' for me yesterday, and again, I PROMISE I'm going to write more about him and my pregnancy thus far. However, today has a more "heavy" hold on me...
Today, my mom has been in heaven for three years. On one hand it seems like yesterday. But mainly it seems like an eternity since she left this earth. And I miss her terribly...
I don't have to "think" about what the day is. I just "know". Last night, I woke up from falling asleep with Jessica. It was 11:35pm. I remember so clearly that, at that time, her breathing was becoming more shallow. Her breaths much farther apart. Her groaning louder. And I felt so helpless. All I could do was sit and hold her hand. And I was so glad that I could be there to do that. As hard as it was, I would have chosen to be no where other than her bedside. In fact, I hardly left her side that night. I knew it would be her last, and I wanted to be there as she took her last breath. My mom, though a Christian, was very superstitious. I do believe she heard us talking in her room and knew that it was a Friday the 13th. I don't think she wanted to die on that particular day. She fought it hard, and she took her last breath at 12:13am on April 14th.
She had been admitted to the hospital the early to middle part of March with pneumonia. She had a mild heart attack during her stay. I went to bathe her one day, and I remember her asking me when Dr. L (her oncologist) was coming to see her. I told her that he wasn't going to and she was extremely puzzled. There was nothing else he could do. Her lung cancer had progressed rapidly and her body couldn't tolerate more chemo. I wanted SO badly to tell her the end was near, but my stepfather and brother asked me not to. They felt that if she knew, she would just give up right away. I respected their wishes. And she might not have fought as hard as she did. But I do wish she had known. There were conversations that I would have loved have with her...things that only we could talk about if she was aware that her time was short.
I remember bringing her home from that hospital stay. We had a hospital bed delivered to her room to make getting up easier, oxygen was set up in the next room with a very long cord to reach her. The hospice nurse met us there to do the admission paperwork. I was helping her get off the potty and as she stood, she hugged me, crying, and said, "I never thought I'd get this bad". It truly broke my heart. I told her we were all there to help her and we would get her through. Having said all of that, I think she knew her time was limited but not so short. She told me several times she believed she still had six months to live. She really only had about 4 weeks. She died just 12 days before her 70th birthday for which she had planned a BIG party at my house! It just wasn't meant to be.
Those weeks at home were tough. My stepdad left for work early in the morning and she was alone until I could get to her. I would get Jessica to school, rush home to do laundry or a little housework, get Emma Grace to school and head to her house. I would leave to get Emma Grace and go right back. My sweet friend next door, Nicole, would get Jessica off the bus, and I would stay until my stepdad got home. As much as Jessica loved being next door, there was one night that Jessica broke down and told me she wanted me to get her off the bus. I did my best, but it didn't always work that way. I was in survival mode. Literally.
The last week of her life she rapidly declined. On the Tuesday morning before her death, my stepdad called and said she was in a lot of pain. Hospice sent a crisis nurse to her home which was a huge blessing. They started her on oral Morphine that day and she rested much easier. My mom told me to bring the girls over after school that day because she wanted to see them. I promised that I would. When Jessica got home, she pitched a fit to play with Sidney next door instead of going to see Granny. I guess it was the stress and sadness that I was feeling, but I grabbed her by the arms and very firmly said, "Your Granny isn't going to be here much longer! You can play with Sidney any time. Granny specifically asked to see you today and we're going whether you like it or not!". She got over her "fit" and off we went.
The girls climbed up on the bed with mom. She loved on them and they on her. It was such a special time. It was the last time, too.
That very same night, I had to teach a childbirth class, and it didn't end until 10pm. It was about an hour away from home, but my brother was still at my mom's house, so I decided to go on over. It was about 11:15 when I got there and she was groggy from the morphine. But she was still talking. When it was time to go, we said our "I love you's".
Sometime during the night, we believe she had a stroke. She was unconscious from then on. I remember not knowing this the next day when I took Emma Grace with me to visit. I was shocked and devastated. As we sat on the other bed in her room, Emma Grace, who had just turned four, asked me why Granny wouldn't wake up. I had no choice but to tell her that Granny had gotten more sick and would go be with Jesus soon. She was in my lap, turned her little head and with the most serious expression said, "No mommy, Granny needs to stay here with us!"
Heartbreaking.
Emma Grace still talks about her Granny to this day. Especially about Granny and Grady being together. I think it makes her feel better that Grady has her with him. The first thing she said when we told them Grady had died was, "Mommy, Grady can be Granny's baby in heaven". Yes, he is.
Gib took a couple of days off of work when mom got worse. It was such a blessing that I didn't have to worry about taking care of them and mom at the same time. I had not been home, so when they found me in my bed the next morning, the girls knew she had lost her battle. They came in to talk to me and it was so hard to explain death to them. Emma Grace asked me if Granny flew to heaven. It is a hard thing to describe the separation of your soul and your physical body. It comforted them to know that Granny was healthy and well in heaven. Jessica said, "You mean she can run if she wants to?" Yep, she can!
As you can tell, my heart is heavy and sad today. My mom wasn't the easiest person to get along with. She often brought me down in our conversations, and I'm so sad to admit that because of this, I stopped calling her every day like I once did. But, oh, to have the privilege to call her again and hear her voice would be amazing! Even if she was depressing and critical at times. So, if your Momma is still here with you, please call her today. Even if you don't want to. Because I promise that when you can't, you'll wish you could...
"I love you Momma! And I miss you more than words can say! T"
--------------------
I wrote this post one year ago. So, amidst my sadness today, I'm going to write ten things I'm thankful for...
1. I'm thankful that the dentist's office called me with a cancellation to get my teeth cleaned this morning...and that it is Wednesday and my dentist of choice is in the office today.
2. I'm thankful for the beautiful weather we've had lately, although I could certainly do without all the pollen!
3. I'm thankful that I was able to change my doctor's appointment from today to Friday because I also have a bereavement meeting that day. Saves me gas, time and money!
4. I'm thankful that most people who have heard that I'm pregnant again have been sweet and positive and that I've only had a couple of negative responses.
5. I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to have lunch with my girls at their schools today.
6. I'm thankful for my husband who works so hard to provide for our family and takes such great care of me and our girls.
7. I'm thankful for Jessica and Emma Grace. For the joy and love they bring to me each and every day. For the opportunity to be their mom and try to show them the unconditional love I have for them in my heart.
8. I'm thankful to be pregnant again and for the hope that this new little life brings.
9. I'm thankful for Grady and his short life. For the things that his life and death have taught me. For the ways that I've been able to help others because of his life in me.
10. And most of all, I'm thankful for the God in whom I believe. For His faithfulness, truth, promises and sovereignty even when I feel that things are out of control. For without Him, I honestly and truly don't know where I would be today.
If you've endured this very long post, thank you! God bless!
Love,
Tonya
You know that Gib wakes up in, what I consider, the middle of the night to go to work. I've not been able to go back to sleep after he leaves between 4:30 and 5:00. And I can no longer just rest comfortably in bed until it's time to get up. I have a terrible pain in the side of my right leg that is worse than any sciatica I've ever had. I'm seeing a chiropractor, but it's not helping. Yet. The only thing I can do is get up, and it eventually eases but never completely goes away.
So, here I am. Bright and early in the blog world!
Gib scanned a picture of Dumplin' for me yesterday, and again, I PROMISE I'm going to write more about him and my pregnancy thus far. However, today has a more "heavy" hold on me...
Today, my mom has been in heaven for three years. On one hand it seems like yesterday. But mainly it seems like an eternity since she left this earth. And I miss her terribly...
I don't have to "think" about what the day is. I just "know". Last night, I woke up from falling asleep with Jessica. It was 11:35pm. I remember so clearly that, at that time, her breathing was becoming more shallow. Her breaths much farther apart. Her groaning louder. And I felt so helpless. All I could do was sit and hold her hand. And I was so glad that I could be there to do that. As hard as it was, I would have chosen to be no where other than her bedside. In fact, I hardly left her side that night. I knew it would be her last, and I wanted to be there as she took her last breath. My mom, though a Christian, was very superstitious. I do believe she heard us talking in her room and knew that it was a Friday the 13th. I don't think she wanted to die on that particular day. She fought it hard, and she took her last breath at 12:13am on April 14th.
She had been admitted to the hospital the early to middle part of March with pneumonia. She had a mild heart attack during her stay. I went to bathe her one day, and I remember her asking me when Dr. L (her oncologist) was coming to see her. I told her that he wasn't going to and she was extremely puzzled. There was nothing else he could do. Her lung cancer had progressed rapidly and her body couldn't tolerate more chemo. I wanted SO badly to tell her the end was near, but my stepfather and brother asked me not to. They felt that if she knew, she would just give up right away. I respected their wishes. And she might not have fought as hard as she did. But I do wish she had known. There were conversations that I would have loved have with her...things that only we could talk about if she was aware that her time was short.
I remember bringing her home from that hospital stay. We had a hospital bed delivered to her room to make getting up easier, oxygen was set up in the next room with a very long cord to reach her. The hospice nurse met us there to do the admission paperwork. I was helping her get off the potty and as she stood, she hugged me, crying, and said, "I never thought I'd get this bad". It truly broke my heart. I told her we were all there to help her and we would get her through. Having said all of that, I think she knew her time was limited but not so short. She told me several times she believed she still had six months to live. She really only had about 4 weeks. She died just 12 days before her 70th birthday for which she had planned a BIG party at my house! It just wasn't meant to be.
Those weeks at home were tough. My stepdad left for work early in the morning and she was alone until I could get to her. I would get Jessica to school, rush home to do laundry or a little housework, get Emma Grace to school and head to her house. I would leave to get Emma Grace and go right back. My sweet friend next door, Nicole, would get Jessica off the bus, and I would stay until my stepdad got home. As much as Jessica loved being next door, there was one night that Jessica broke down and told me she wanted me to get her off the bus. I did my best, but it didn't always work that way. I was in survival mode. Literally.
The last week of her life she rapidly declined. On the Tuesday morning before her death, my stepdad called and said she was in a lot of pain. Hospice sent a crisis nurse to her home which was a huge blessing. They started her on oral Morphine that day and she rested much easier. My mom told me to bring the girls over after school that day because she wanted to see them. I promised that I would. When Jessica got home, she pitched a fit to play with Sidney next door instead of going to see Granny. I guess it was the stress and sadness that I was feeling, but I grabbed her by the arms and very firmly said, "Your Granny isn't going to be here much longer! You can play with Sidney any time. Granny specifically asked to see you today and we're going whether you like it or not!". She got over her "fit" and off we went.
The girls climbed up on the bed with mom. She loved on them and they on her. It was such a special time. It was the last time, too.
That very same night, I had to teach a childbirth class, and it didn't end until 10pm. It was about an hour away from home, but my brother was still at my mom's house, so I decided to go on over. It was about 11:15 when I got there and she was groggy from the morphine. But she was still talking. When it was time to go, we said our "I love you's".
Sometime during the night, we believe she had a stroke. She was unconscious from then on. I remember not knowing this the next day when I took Emma Grace with me to visit. I was shocked and devastated. As we sat on the other bed in her room, Emma Grace, who had just turned four, asked me why Granny wouldn't wake up. I had no choice but to tell her that Granny had gotten more sick and would go be with Jesus soon. She was in my lap, turned her little head and with the most serious expression said, "No mommy, Granny needs to stay here with us!"
Heartbreaking.
Emma Grace still talks about her Granny to this day. Especially about Granny and Grady being together. I think it makes her feel better that Grady has her with him. The first thing she said when we told them Grady had died was, "Mommy, Grady can be Granny's baby in heaven". Yes, he is.
Gib took a couple of days off of work when mom got worse. It was such a blessing that I didn't have to worry about taking care of them and mom at the same time. I had not been home, so when they found me in my bed the next morning, the girls knew she had lost her battle. They came in to talk to me and it was so hard to explain death to them. Emma Grace asked me if Granny flew to heaven. It is a hard thing to describe the separation of your soul and your physical body. It comforted them to know that Granny was healthy and well in heaven. Jessica said, "You mean she can run if she wants to?" Yep, she can!
As you can tell, my heart is heavy and sad today. My mom wasn't the easiest person to get along with. She often brought me down in our conversations, and I'm so sad to admit that because of this, I stopped calling her every day like I once did. But, oh, to have the privilege to call her again and hear her voice would be amazing! Even if she was depressing and critical at times. So, if your Momma is still here with you, please call her today. Even if you don't want to. Because I promise that when you can't, you'll wish you could...
"I love you Momma! And I miss you more than words can say! T"
--------------------
I wrote this post one year ago. So, amidst my sadness today, I'm going to write ten things I'm thankful for...
1. I'm thankful that the dentist's office called me with a cancellation to get my teeth cleaned this morning...and that it is Wednesday and my dentist of choice is in the office today.
2. I'm thankful for the beautiful weather we've had lately, although I could certainly do without all the pollen!
3. I'm thankful that I was able to change my doctor's appointment from today to Friday because I also have a bereavement meeting that day. Saves me gas, time and money!
4. I'm thankful that most people who have heard that I'm pregnant again have been sweet and positive and that I've only had a couple of negative responses.
5. I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to have lunch with my girls at their schools today.
6. I'm thankful for my husband who works so hard to provide for our family and takes such great care of me and our girls.
7. I'm thankful for Jessica and Emma Grace. For the joy and love they bring to me each and every day. For the opportunity to be their mom and try to show them the unconditional love I have for them in my heart.
8. I'm thankful to be pregnant again and for the hope that this new little life brings.
9. I'm thankful for Grady and his short life. For the things that his life and death have taught me. For the ways that I've been able to help others because of his life in me.
10. And most of all, I'm thankful for the God in whom I believe. For His faithfulness, truth, promises and sovereignty even when I feel that things are out of control. For without Him, I honestly and truly don't know where I would be today.
If you've endured this very long post, thank you! God bless!
Love,
Tonya
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Tidbits from T
It's a BEAUTIFUL sunny day here in GA! My girls are out playing in the woods, as I believe all children should do; my husband has gone to work for a while; and I'm trying to get my hiney in gear to get some things done. I really just want to sit outside. If I had a hammock, that would be perfect...stretched out enjoying the sunshine and warm weather, reading a good book, or maybe just listening to the sounds of my kids laughing while playing. Sounds great, huh? Well, no hammock here, so I might just have to settle for a plain old chair.
Sigh.
Before I get my chores done and enjoy the outdoors, here are some recent tidbits from T...
Tuesday I was grocery shopping for Emma Grace's birthday dinner. As I made my way to the check out line, I heard it. And the closer I got to the front of the store, the louder it was. What was it? A TINY newborn crying. There's no mistaking the sound of a newborn. I felt my heart start to beat a little faster. I tried to talk myself down. I wasn't prepared for an anxiety attack. It caught me SO off guard. As I waited in line (the baby was a couple of lanes over from me) and continued to talk to myself (and pray!), I realized that I forgot the broccoli that Emma Grace requested (which by the way she changed to green beans about an hour before dinner!). So, I turned around and headed to the very back corner of the store. I thought, surely by the time I get back up there the baby will be gone. But despite being in the back of the store, I could still hear the crying. By now, my heart was racing, my face was hot, my ears were ringing and my hands shaking. I leaned hard onto the shopping cart and told myself I would be okay. Unfortunately, the baby wasn't leaving any time soon. Something must have happened as they were checking out because when I got back to the front, they were standing at the customer service desk. Uggh. I just kept taking deep breaths, staring at the door. They finally left. When I got to the cashier, I must have looked bad 'cuz she said, "Are you okay?". My reply, "I'm much better now that that baby is gone." Her: "Yeah, crying babies can really get on your nerves". Well, friends, I spilled it all to her with people behind me. As I told her what happened with Grady, she remembered me being pregnant. She even commented on how big I was with him and how they always asked me when I was going to have him. Yes, that was me. And yes, he died. Luckily, she didn't crumble. She just said she was so sorry and off I went. I haven't been caught off guard or spilled Grady's story like that in a very long time. Grief is SO unpredictable! And while it has become a roommate and companion to me, it certainly was NOT my friend that day!!!
--------------------
Luckily, Emma Grace has only complained of one other headache this week. They were starting to really concern me because she was having them every day. She took some of her steak in her lunch the day after her birthday, and I heated up the rest of her leftovers for her dinner that night. She didn't seem the least bit upset that we didn't get to sing to her on her actual day...maybe because we made it a point to do it the next night. She's really a pretty easy-going girl. Her feathers don't get nearly as ruffled as her sisters!
--------------------
Speaking of her sister, Jessica got in a bit of trouble yesterday. She lied to me, which is a BIG NO NO in our house. She hasn't lied to me in a very long time (that I know of - and I do trust her). She came in with a bleeding finger yesterday afternoon and said she cut it on a branch. I didn't think much of it until I saw her put a certain "tool" away in the garage before softball practice. It was some sort of knife that closes up, but it wasn't like a Swiss Army knife. Emma Grace told me that was what she cut her finger on. So, in deciding her punishment, I would normally wash her mouth out with soap. But considering she's a bit bigger than she was when that happened in second grade, I decided she was going to write me a paper on why she should not lie. Doesn't sound like much punishment, does it? Well, take into consideration that the cut is on the thumb of her writing hand. It's not too comfortable for her to write. She asked if she could wait until it was better. You may think I'm mean, but I told her no. I've always been one to try to make the punishment fit the crime...this comes pretty close. She doesn't have to write it all at once, but it has to be at least 150 words, and she started on it today.
--------------------
Gib has been working very hard getting ready to administer this test next week. It is the Georgia High School Graduation Test. He will test 890 kids Monday - Thursday. He and his secretary have had to count and organize 890 tests x 4. Not to mention all the other stuff that goes along with testing. I know he will be ready for Spring Break...but he tells me he has to work that week on getting ready for the Gateway. Is it summer, yet?
--------------------
I had another meeting at the hospital yesterday. Things are still up in the air about the Perinatal Loss Coordinator position. But the leader of our group is a little more confident that even if the position does not get approved, they will at least start a support group which is very much needed in that area. I have to write a paragraph or two to be included in the proposal for that. It feels good to be a part of positive change, especially when it comes from such a devastating loss. I am determined to use Grady's life and death in a positive way...
--------------------
I've been having my own little "church" since Wednesday. I bought the new Selah CD called "You Deliver Me". I bought it because of two songs called "Unredeemed" and "I Will Carry You". But it turns out that the whole CD is awesome! IF you like Christian music, that is... The title track brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it and the old hymns on the CD bring back memories of going to church with my grandmother, even though the hymns are a little more contemporary but still have an old gospel feel to them. I LOVE IT! And I truly think if you've lost a child, or are just plain going through a hard time, the songs on the CD will speak to your heart.
--------------------
Before I go, I must share something with you. Emma Grace just busted through the back door to get a plastic Target bag. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: "Whatcha doing?"
EG: "I need a plastic bag 'cuz I'm collecting litter so the earth will be healthier. And we've already found a cookie wrapper!"
I cannot imagine there is that much litter behind my house and my neighbor's house, but I'm anxious to see how full the bag gets. I did warn her to be careful of what they picked up...
--------------------
I've been at this computer long enough! It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so I'm gonna enjoy the sunshine today while it's here! Have a great one!
Love,
Tonya
Sigh.
Before I get my chores done and enjoy the outdoors, here are some recent tidbits from T...
Tuesday I was grocery shopping for Emma Grace's birthday dinner. As I made my way to the check out line, I heard it. And the closer I got to the front of the store, the louder it was. What was it? A TINY newborn crying. There's no mistaking the sound of a newborn. I felt my heart start to beat a little faster. I tried to talk myself down. I wasn't prepared for an anxiety attack. It caught me SO off guard. As I waited in line (the baby was a couple of lanes over from me) and continued to talk to myself (and pray!), I realized that I forgot the broccoli that Emma Grace requested (which by the way she changed to green beans about an hour before dinner!). So, I turned around and headed to the very back corner of the store. I thought, surely by the time I get back up there the baby will be gone. But despite being in the back of the store, I could still hear the crying. By now, my heart was racing, my face was hot, my ears were ringing and my hands shaking. I leaned hard onto the shopping cart and told myself I would be okay. Unfortunately, the baby wasn't leaving any time soon. Something must have happened as they were checking out because when I got back to the front, they were standing at the customer service desk. Uggh. I just kept taking deep breaths, staring at the door. They finally left. When I got to the cashier, I must have looked bad 'cuz she said, "Are you okay?". My reply, "I'm much better now that that baby is gone." Her: "Yeah, crying babies can really get on your nerves". Well, friends, I spilled it all to her with people behind me. As I told her what happened with Grady, she remembered me being pregnant. She even commented on how big I was with him and how they always asked me when I was going to have him. Yes, that was me. And yes, he died. Luckily, she didn't crumble. She just said she was so sorry and off I went. I haven't been caught off guard or spilled Grady's story like that in a very long time. Grief is SO unpredictable! And while it has become a roommate and companion to me, it certainly was NOT my friend that day!!!
--------------------
Luckily, Emma Grace has only complained of one other headache this week. They were starting to really concern me because she was having them every day. She took some of her steak in her lunch the day after her birthday, and I heated up the rest of her leftovers for her dinner that night. She didn't seem the least bit upset that we didn't get to sing to her on her actual day...maybe because we made it a point to do it the next night. She's really a pretty easy-going girl. Her feathers don't get nearly as ruffled as her sisters!
--------------------
Speaking of her sister, Jessica got in a bit of trouble yesterday. She lied to me, which is a BIG NO NO in our house. She hasn't lied to me in a very long time (that I know of - and I do trust her). She came in with a bleeding finger yesterday afternoon and said she cut it on a branch. I didn't think much of it until I saw her put a certain "tool" away in the garage before softball practice. It was some sort of knife that closes up, but it wasn't like a Swiss Army knife. Emma Grace told me that was what she cut her finger on. So, in deciding her punishment, I would normally wash her mouth out with soap. But considering she's a bit bigger than she was when that happened in second grade, I decided she was going to write me a paper on why she should not lie. Doesn't sound like much punishment, does it? Well, take into consideration that the cut is on the thumb of her writing hand. It's not too comfortable for her to write. She asked if she could wait until it was better. You may think I'm mean, but I told her no. I've always been one to try to make the punishment fit the crime...this comes pretty close. She doesn't have to write it all at once, but it has to be at least 150 words, and she started on it today.
--------------------
Gib has been working very hard getting ready to administer this test next week. It is the Georgia High School Graduation Test. He will test 890 kids Monday - Thursday. He and his secretary have had to count and organize 890 tests x 4. Not to mention all the other stuff that goes along with testing. I know he will be ready for Spring Break...but he tells me he has to work that week on getting ready for the Gateway. Is it summer, yet?
--------------------
I had another meeting at the hospital yesterday. Things are still up in the air about the Perinatal Loss Coordinator position. But the leader of our group is a little more confident that even if the position does not get approved, they will at least start a support group which is very much needed in that area. I have to write a paragraph or two to be included in the proposal for that. It feels good to be a part of positive change, especially when it comes from such a devastating loss. I am determined to use Grady's life and death in a positive way...
--------------------
I've been having my own little "church" since Wednesday. I bought the new Selah CD called "You Deliver Me". I bought it because of two songs called "Unredeemed" and "I Will Carry You". But it turns out that the whole CD is awesome! IF you like Christian music, that is... The title track brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it and the old hymns on the CD bring back memories of going to church with my grandmother, even though the hymns are a little more contemporary but still have an old gospel feel to them. I LOVE IT! And I truly think if you've lost a child, or are just plain going through a hard time, the songs on the CD will speak to your heart.
--------------------
Before I go, I must share something with you. Emma Grace just busted through the back door to get a plastic Target bag. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: "Whatcha doing?"
EG: "I need a plastic bag 'cuz I'm collecting litter so the earth will be healthier. And we've already found a cookie wrapper!"
I cannot imagine there is that much litter behind my house and my neighbor's house, but I'm anxious to see how full the bag gets. I did warn her to be careful of what they picked up...
--------------------
I've been at this computer long enough! It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so I'm gonna enjoy the sunshine today while it's here! Have a great one!
Love,
Tonya
Monday, March 8, 2010
I Remember...
*Warning: This is not a happy, funny, or feel-good kind of post. It's a pretty transparent account of my feelings and my life in the first few weeks following Grady's death. And it turned out to be long.*
I know there are hurting people each and every day, for many different reasons. I know there are mothers every day who are grieving the loss of their child(ren). I know this and think about it literally every day of my life.
Because I AM one of those mothers.
But my friend Rachael is SO heavy on my heart. Knowing what she's going through. Knowing the uphill battle she now faces. Knowing how difficult the days ahead are going to be for her.
And it has brought back a flood of emotions for me. It has brought me back, emotionally, to the time right after Grady went to heaven. I don't write this for you to feel sorry for me. I'm in a much, much better place now 15 months later than I was then. Time does have a way of healing. But it never goes away completely. And, today, I just need to write out these thoughts and feelings.
For me.
And maybe you, too.
When I walked out of the hospital without Grady in my arms, I felt sad and empty. And MAD. I was, no doubt, in shock. But I was clear-headed and determined enough to know that if I wasn't leaving with a baby in my arms, I was walking. NOT riding in a wheelchair.
I remember as I got into the van, I said, "This is the second *%!#@?^ time I've left this hospital without a baby in my arms, and this time there's no chance that he's ever coming home with us." I don't often curse. But I did then. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.
The drive home was somber. Quiet. Not many words were spoken between me and Gib. What do you say at a time like that? What do you talk about? I knew that we weren't long behind Chad from the funeral home who had come to get Grady. I wished he was with us. It may sound crazy, but knowing what I know now...people leave the hospital with their baby and take them to the funeral home themselves. I remember thinking, at the time, how that would have been nice. Just to spend a little more time with him. To hold him a little longer... If only I'd known that was an option...
Then we had the fiasco at our pharmacy. We went through the drive-thru to fill my Percocet prescription because I'd had a c-section. There were three prescriptions total to be filled, but that was the only one I really needed then. The lady at the window told us, sorry, they closed at 9pm (this was at 7pm) and they were already 3 hours behind. WHAT?! Are you kidding me!? First, I asked if my friend was working - nope - because I knew if she was, she would fill it. Then Isaid yelled, "My baby just died and I just had a c-section, can't you just fill that one?!?!?". Would you believe she said no and told us to go their competitor about 7 miles away??? Unbelievable! I said a few more bad words and was furious. Gib had to go back for something later and spoke with the manager. Shoot, my next door neighbor was so mad, HE called the manager, too! We received several calls apologizing, but I'll NEVER forget that woman's rudeness and insensitivity.
Then it was home to my sweet girls. They were so glad to see me, as I was them. My friend, Amy Ellen, had made dinner for us that night and she and my other friend Nicole had straightened my house. What a blessing. I walked into Grady's room and found the most beautiful basket on Grady's changer. My friends, Robin and Lori, had gone in together and gotten it for me. It was filled with angel items, chocolates and bath salts. Their thoughtfulness meant so much to me.
I don't remember if I cried when I first walked in Grady's room or not. I think I did, but it's terrible that I don't know for sure. I just remember feeling lost and in a daze.
After we ate dinner, and I pretty much sat watching them eat, my girls wanted to watch a movie. I was so tired but obliged. I pretty much slept on the sofa while they watched the movie. But we were all together and that's what mattered. They hadn't seen me in three days.
I really don't remember much about that weekend. I know all I really wanted to do was sleep because when I was sleeping, my heart didn't feel like it was ripping out of my chest. I religiously took my Percocet and Xanax just to get me through. Think of me what you want, but I needed my medication during that time. A few things about the weekend stand out...
We were trying to decide on cremation or burial for Grady. I decided to do a little research on cremation. First mistake. I then decided to find out how to talk to your children about cremation. Second mistake. "In order to talk to your children about cremation, you first need to understand the process yourself" is what the article said. I read it. Through my sobs, I told Gib, "I'm done for the day". It was only 12:00. I didn't come back out of my room until dinner time.
I also remember that Sunday my brother, sister-in-law and my stepdad came over for a visit. I was still a zombie. We sat in the family room, talking about stuff, all the while avoiding the "elephant" in the room. I remember either myself or my sister-in-law brought up Grady, and my brother said something like, "Okay, let's talk about something else." I knew it was hard for him and probably uncomfortable. I wasn't mad at all, but I remember thinking, "I don't want to talk about anything else...I want to talk about Grady."
Gib stayed home with me for the first three days of the next week. We made final arrangements for Grady, but other than that, I think I spent most of that time in the bed. The first day Gib went back to work was terrible for me. After the girls went to school, I was lost. I spent most of that time in bed. Not sleeping. Just lying there. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Reliving every moment that had happened.
I had wonderful people who were taking the girls to school for me, but I would stay in bed until the last possible second before I had to get Jessica up for school. I would get her ready and go back to bed until I had to get Emma Grace up for school. I would get her ready and go back to bed.
Yes. I spent a lot of time in the bed. Again, not sleeping. Just holding Grady's blanket close to my chest. But I had no energy for anything else.
Had it not been for people bringing us meals, I would not have showered. I would have stayed in my pj's all day. And that's exactly what I did on the days we didn't get a new meal. I just didn't care.
But on the days when I dressed, it literally took me about two hours. Something that normally takes me 40 minutes, shower and all. I would shower. Get back in bed. Do a little make-up. Get back in bed. Dry my hair. Get back in bed. Get my clothes on. Get back in bed. Flat-iron my hair. And by then, it was time for someone to be bringing Emma Grace home from preschool. We would snuggle, read, watch tv, etc until Jessica got home. Gib usually wasn't too far behind Jessica in those early days which was a blessing.
I remember a week after coming home, going in the nursery to read a book I had been given by the social worker at the hospital. It was called, "When Hello Means Goodbye". She gave it to me the day I was discharged and told me to read it at some point. I found a little comfort in the book, but mostly I was furious that no one had given it to me when I first arrived at the hospital. It talked about making memories with your baby in the short time you had with them. It would have been nice to have that part of the book highlighted and the suggestion made to read it before delivery. And if we weren't able to read it ourselves, maybe someone could have read it to us.
I remember feeling like I had lead in my legs. It was hard to walk. It felt like I had a ton of bricks on my chest. It was hard to breathe. It physically hurt to breathe. I remember feeling sick to my stomach all the time. I wasn't eating like I should have been. But why should I? I wasn't nursing a baby who needed nourishment, so who cared? I lost 30 pounds in two weeks.
I would go in Grady's room, sit in the rocker, and just cry. I cried myself to sleep one night in the rocker which resulted in a terrible crick in my neck. Gib came in one day and asked me what he could do to help me. I know he felt helpless when it came to me. I said, "I just need you to love me". He said, "I think I can do that".
I journaled to Grady frequently which helped. Just to pour my thoughts and feelings out to him felt good. And during that time, I wasn't speaking to God, so I started a journal to God which has turned into my prayer journal. I didn't want to talk directly to Him, so I thought I would write out my feelings instead. It was a tremendous help...at least until I had my first breakthrough.
I remember wandering through my house thinking, "I should have a baby in my arms", not knowing what to do with myself.
I remember the mailbox being full of sympathy cards every day. I would open each one, read it and put it in a pile. I still have them. I was so grateful that people were taking the time to reach out to me. But I remember thinking how I wished I was getting Congratulations cards instead. And how "not right" it all was. I got mad about it one day. But what could I do? Nothing. It was what it was, and it wasn't going to change.
I remember not answering the phone for at least a month. Even with caller-id. The only times I answered was when I thought it might pertain to Jessica or Emma Grace. I did answer Gib's calls, but other than that, I just let voicemail pick it up. I didn't really care to talk to anyone and if they really cared about me, they would just leave a message. Which most people did.
I remember the first time I went to a public function. It was Emma Grace's Thanksgiving feast/celebration at preschool. I wanted to be there for her, but I hated going. I walked in and felt like I wore a huge sign on my head that said, "Yes. My baby died". Whether it was true or not, I felt like people were talking about me, saying, "See that woman over there, the one in the black shirt, her baby just died". I hated that feeling, but it was worth enduring to see Emma Grace sing in her little Indian outfit.
I remember the first trip I made to the grocery store. I intentionally made a list and thankfully did not forget it. I was in the back of the store and felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack. My face became flushed. My heart started beating really fast. And my ears started ringing. I took some deep breaths, leaned harder into my shopping cart to hold myself up, focused on my list and somehow made it out of there. Luckily there were only three more items that I needed.
I remember the first time someone saw me who did not know what happened to Grady. It was at the preschool where I thought everyone knew...I felt safe there. But after Emma Grace's Christmas party, I was walking out the door and the woman behind me said, "I see you had the baby! How's he doing?" Not only was I caught off guard, but I just flat out didn't know how to answer her. I told her that he died and she felt awful. And I'll be darn if it didn't happen again later on that same day at Jessica's school. Except, instead of crumbling into tears like the first lady and me comforting her, this woman, while holding her baby, stomped her foot on the ground and said, "D--n it, I hate that. I hate that for you". I actually liked her response better.
I remember picking up "The Good Grief Club" by Monica Novak for the first time. I remember that I couldn't put it down because I was reading the words of someone else who was describing exactly what I had been feeling. Finally, I felt like I wasn't alone. Someone else knew what I was going through. Even if it was an author of a book and not someone in real life.
I remember sitting at the computer one evening after dinner. The dishwasher was going, the tv was on and the girls were running around playing. Loudly. I literally felt as if I was going to jump out of my skin! I thought, "What is wrong with me?!" I told the girls to turn off the tv if they weren't watching it and to please lower their voices. I then googled "symptoms of grief" and to my great surprise and sense of relief, "sensory overload" was on the list. It felt good that it was "normal" and that I wasn't going crazy. Even the sounds in the grocery store or in a large function with lots of people talking would just about put me over the edge. Eventually this subsided, but oh how I thought I had really lost it!
While I was completely consumed physically, emotionally, and mentally with my grief for Grady, I'm so thankful I had Jessica and Emma Grace. I honestly don't know what I would have done without them. I snuggled them and loved on them so much in those days that I'm pretty sure I suffocated them to an extent. I know they got tired of it, but they appeased me. Thanks sweet girls! It was hard to put a smile on my face at times, but I did. I know they were hurting and dealing with our loss in their own way. They knew how hard it was for me because they saw me acting differently than they had ever seen me before. I have cards they made me during that time that I will treasure forever.
After Grady went to heaven, I'll be the first to tell you that, YES I was depressed. I'm not one bit ashamed to admit that to you or anyone else. I think I was entitled to it, as is anyone going through such a significant time of loss. I had never known such depression before, and it was debilitating at times. Praise God, Dr. Joe asked me before I left the hospital if I wanted to go ahead and start on some medication. I agreed because my miscarriage in 2005 sent me into postpartum depression, which I didn't know could happen. I started Lexapro the day I came home from the hospital, and within three weeks some of the heaviness lifted. The gray cloud was still there but the fog had lifted some. I stayed on it until March of 2009 when I felt like it was starting to mask my feelings. It's terrible to feel the need to cry but you're just not able. And for the record, I didn't stay on the Percocet and Xanax very long. I traded the Percocet for Ibuprofen and the Xanax for some Unisom to help me sleep...worked fine and is not addicting...exactly what I needed.
I don't want pity for this post. That's not why I wrote it. I wrote this for myself because the memories hung heavily over me today. And I also wrote this for others who may be going through this very same thing right now. Maybe what I felt will make someone else feel a little less alone. I remember thinking, "I know I'm not the only one who's going through this right now". And I wasn't. Oh, how I wish I'd had my blog then...
If you're still reading...thanks for hanging on 'till the end! It has only taken me about four hours to get it done!
Love,
Tonya
I know there are hurting people each and every day, for many different reasons. I know there are mothers every day who are grieving the loss of their child(ren). I know this and think about it literally every day of my life.
Because I AM one of those mothers.
But my friend Rachael is SO heavy on my heart. Knowing what she's going through. Knowing the uphill battle she now faces. Knowing how difficult the days ahead are going to be for her.
And it has brought back a flood of emotions for me. It has brought me back, emotionally, to the time right after Grady went to heaven. I don't write this for you to feel sorry for me. I'm in a much, much better place now 15 months later than I was then. Time does have a way of healing. But it never goes away completely. And, today, I just need to write out these thoughts and feelings.
For me.
And maybe you, too.
When I walked out of the hospital without Grady in my arms, I felt sad and empty. And MAD. I was, no doubt, in shock. But I was clear-headed and determined enough to know that if I wasn't leaving with a baby in my arms, I was walking. NOT riding in a wheelchair.
I remember as I got into the van, I said, "This is the second *%!#@?^ time I've left this hospital without a baby in my arms, and this time there's no chance that he's ever coming home with us." I don't often curse. But I did then. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.
The drive home was somber. Quiet. Not many words were spoken between me and Gib. What do you say at a time like that? What do you talk about? I knew that we weren't long behind Chad from the funeral home who had come to get Grady. I wished he was with us. It may sound crazy, but knowing what I know now...people leave the hospital with their baby and take them to the funeral home themselves. I remember thinking, at the time, how that would have been nice. Just to spend a little more time with him. To hold him a little longer... If only I'd known that was an option...
Then we had the fiasco at our pharmacy. We went through the drive-thru to fill my Percocet prescription because I'd had a c-section. There were three prescriptions total to be filled, but that was the only one I really needed then. The lady at the window told us, sorry, they closed at 9pm (this was at 7pm) and they were already 3 hours behind. WHAT?! Are you kidding me!? First, I asked if my friend was working - nope - because I knew if she was, she would fill it. Then I
Then it was home to my sweet girls. They were so glad to see me, as I was them. My friend, Amy Ellen, had made dinner for us that night and she and my other friend Nicole had straightened my house. What a blessing. I walked into Grady's room and found the most beautiful basket on Grady's changer. My friends, Robin and Lori, had gone in together and gotten it for me. It was filled with angel items, chocolates and bath salts. Their thoughtfulness meant so much to me.
I don't remember if I cried when I first walked in Grady's room or not. I think I did, but it's terrible that I don't know for sure. I just remember feeling lost and in a daze.
After we ate dinner, and I pretty much sat watching them eat, my girls wanted to watch a movie. I was so tired but obliged. I pretty much slept on the sofa while they watched the movie. But we were all together and that's what mattered. They hadn't seen me in three days.
I really don't remember much about that weekend. I know all I really wanted to do was sleep because when I was sleeping, my heart didn't feel like it was ripping out of my chest. I religiously took my Percocet and Xanax just to get me through. Think of me what you want, but I needed my medication during that time. A few things about the weekend stand out...
We were trying to decide on cremation or burial for Grady. I decided to do a little research on cremation. First mistake. I then decided to find out how to talk to your children about cremation. Second mistake. "In order to talk to your children about cremation, you first need to understand the process yourself" is what the article said. I read it. Through my sobs, I told Gib, "I'm done for the day". It was only 12:00. I didn't come back out of my room until dinner time.
I also remember that Sunday my brother, sister-in-law and my stepdad came over for a visit. I was still a zombie. We sat in the family room, talking about stuff, all the while avoiding the "elephant" in the room. I remember either myself or my sister-in-law brought up Grady, and my brother said something like, "Okay, let's talk about something else." I knew it was hard for him and probably uncomfortable. I wasn't mad at all, but I remember thinking, "I don't want to talk about anything else...I want to talk about Grady."
Gib stayed home with me for the first three days of the next week. We made final arrangements for Grady, but other than that, I think I spent most of that time in the bed. The first day Gib went back to work was terrible for me. After the girls went to school, I was lost. I spent most of that time in bed. Not sleeping. Just lying there. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Reliving every moment that had happened.
I had wonderful people who were taking the girls to school for me, but I would stay in bed until the last possible second before I had to get Jessica up for school. I would get her ready and go back to bed until I had to get Emma Grace up for school. I would get her ready and go back to bed.
Yes. I spent a lot of time in the bed. Again, not sleeping. Just holding Grady's blanket close to my chest. But I had no energy for anything else.
Had it not been for people bringing us meals, I would not have showered. I would have stayed in my pj's all day. And that's exactly what I did on the days we didn't get a new meal. I just didn't care.
But on the days when I dressed, it literally took me about two hours. Something that normally takes me 40 minutes, shower and all. I would shower. Get back in bed. Do a little make-up. Get back in bed. Dry my hair. Get back in bed. Get my clothes on. Get back in bed. Flat-iron my hair. And by then, it was time for someone to be bringing Emma Grace home from preschool. We would snuggle, read, watch tv, etc until Jessica got home. Gib usually wasn't too far behind Jessica in those early days which was a blessing.
I remember a week after coming home, going in the nursery to read a book I had been given by the social worker at the hospital. It was called, "When Hello Means Goodbye". She gave it to me the day I was discharged and told me to read it at some point. I found a little comfort in the book, but mostly I was furious that no one had given it to me when I first arrived at the hospital. It talked about making memories with your baby in the short time you had with them. It would have been nice to have that part of the book highlighted and the suggestion made to read it before delivery. And if we weren't able to read it ourselves, maybe someone could have read it to us.
I remember feeling like I had lead in my legs. It was hard to walk. It felt like I had a ton of bricks on my chest. It was hard to breathe. It physically hurt to breathe. I remember feeling sick to my stomach all the time. I wasn't eating like I should have been. But why should I? I wasn't nursing a baby who needed nourishment, so who cared? I lost 30 pounds in two weeks.
I would go in Grady's room, sit in the rocker, and just cry. I cried myself to sleep one night in the rocker which resulted in a terrible crick in my neck. Gib came in one day and asked me what he could do to help me. I know he felt helpless when it came to me. I said, "I just need you to love me". He said, "I think I can do that".
I journaled to Grady frequently which helped. Just to pour my thoughts and feelings out to him felt good. And during that time, I wasn't speaking to God, so I started a journal to God which has turned into my prayer journal. I didn't want to talk directly to Him, so I thought I would write out my feelings instead. It was a tremendous help...at least until I had my first breakthrough.
I remember wandering through my house thinking, "I should have a baby in my arms", not knowing what to do with myself.
I remember the mailbox being full of sympathy cards every day. I would open each one, read it and put it in a pile. I still have them. I was so grateful that people were taking the time to reach out to me. But I remember thinking how I wished I was getting Congratulations cards instead. And how "not right" it all was. I got mad about it one day. But what could I do? Nothing. It was what it was, and it wasn't going to change.
I remember not answering the phone for at least a month. Even with caller-id. The only times I answered was when I thought it might pertain to Jessica or Emma Grace. I did answer Gib's calls, but other than that, I just let voicemail pick it up. I didn't really care to talk to anyone and if they really cared about me, they would just leave a message. Which most people did.
I remember the first time I went to a public function. It was Emma Grace's Thanksgiving feast/celebration at preschool. I wanted to be there for her, but I hated going. I walked in and felt like I wore a huge sign on my head that said, "Yes. My baby died". Whether it was true or not, I felt like people were talking about me, saying, "See that woman over there, the one in the black shirt, her baby just died". I hated that feeling, but it was worth enduring to see Emma Grace sing in her little Indian outfit.
I remember the first trip I made to the grocery store. I intentionally made a list and thankfully did not forget it. I was in the back of the store and felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack. My face became flushed. My heart started beating really fast. And my ears started ringing. I took some deep breaths, leaned harder into my shopping cart to hold myself up, focused on my list and somehow made it out of there. Luckily there were only three more items that I needed.
I remember the first time someone saw me who did not know what happened to Grady. It was at the preschool where I thought everyone knew...I felt safe there. But after Emma Grace's Christmas party, I was walking out the door and the woman behind me said, "I see you had the baby! How's he doing?" Not only was I caught off guard, but I just flat out didn't know how to answer her. I told her that he died and she felt awful. And I'll be darn if it didn't happen again later on that same day at Jessica's school. Except, instead of crumbling into tears like the first lady and me comforting her, this woman, while holding her baby, stomped her foot on the ground and said, "D--n it, I hate that. I hate that for you". I actually liked her response better.
I remember picking up "The Good Grief Club" by Monica Novak for the first time. I remember that I couldn't put it down because I was reading the words of someone else who was describing exactly what I had been feeling. Finally, I felt like I wasn't alone. Someone else knew what I was going through. Even if it was an author of a book and not someone in real life.
I remember sitting at the computer one evening after dinner. The dishwasher was going, the tv was on and the girls were running around playing. Loudly. I literally felt as if I was going to jump out of my skin! I thought, "What is wrong with me?!" I told the girls to turn off the tv if they weren't watching it and to please lower their voices. I then googled "symptoms of grief" and to my great surprise and sense of relief, "sensory overload" was on the list. It felt good that it was "normal" and that I wasn't going crazy. Even the sounds in the grocery store or in a large function with lots of people talking would just about put me over the edge. Eventually this subsided, but oh how I thought I had really lost it!
While I was completely consumed physically, emotionally, and mentally with my grief for Grady, I'm so thankful I had Jessica and Emma Grace. I honestly don't know what I would have done without them. I snuggled them and loved on them so much in those days that I'm pretty sure I suffocated them to an extent. I know they got tired of it, but they appeased me. Thanks sweet girls! It was hard to put a smile on my face at times, but I did. I know they were hurting and dealing with our loss in their own way. They knew how hard it was for me because they saw me acting differently than they had ever seen me before. I have cards they made me during that time that I will treasure forever.
After Grady went to heaven, I'll be the first to tell you that, YES I was depressed. I'm not one bit ashamed to admit that to you or anyone else. I think I was entitled to it, as is anyone going through such a significant time of loss. I had never known such depression before, and it was debilitating at times. Praise God, Dr. Joe asked me before I left the hospital if I wanted to go ahead and start on some medication. I agreed because my miscarriage in 2005 sent me into postpartum depression, which I didn't know could happen. I started Lexapro the day I came home from the hospital, and within three weeks some of the heaviness lifted. The gray cloud was still there but the fog had lifted some. I stayed on it until March of 2009 when I felt like it was starting to mask my feelings. It's terrible to feel the need to cry but you're just not able. And for the record, I didn't stay on the Percocet and Xanax very long. I traded the Percocet for Ibuprofen and the Xanax for some Unisom to help me sleep...worked fine and is not addicting...exactly what I needed.
I don't want pity for this post. That's not why I wrote it. I wrote this for myself because the memories hung heavily over me today. And I also wrote this for others who may be going through this very same thing right now. Maybe what I felt will make someone else feel a little less alone. I remember thinking, "I know I'm not the only one who's going through this right now". And I wasn't. Oh, how I wish I'd had my blog then...
If you're still reading...thanks for hanging on 'till the end! It has only taken me about four hours to get it done!
Love,
Tonya
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