The Agony of it All

My mind seemed stuck the same recording playing over and over again. I couldn't seem to get away from the thing we had been "discussing" on and off for hours. The distractions of this life had not caused me to be "over it" as he had thought. It was still simmering in my mind. I knew it was not ok to simmer like this. I knew I was being irrationally angry, yet the emotions just poured out of my heart.  Overflowed into a morass of ugliness.

As my anger toward the whole situation exploded around me (Thank the Lord the kids were in bed)  it occurred to me all the craziness of my life has caused me to set aside my grief. And grief ignored can express itself as anger. There I was again wracked with sobs months after my moms death, processing the hurt in a not so healthy way.  At least I'm processing it...  ugh! Apologizing afterward... In fact I even apologized during and before. I remember saying "I'm sorry, I know I'm being irrational, I have no idea why." that was right about when the discussion turned into the ugly mess of craziness.  

I sit here now and see the habits of old, the triggers of that irrationality are still surrounding me. The stuff pushed to the back of the counters instead of picking it up, opening the cabinet door, and placing it on the shelf above. I mean really you didn't even have to walk anywhere, its about 14 inches from its home.

Funny how it's such small things that grief uses to wedge its way out of our hearts. I believe it was The book A Woman Answer to Anger that talked about how for some of us, we cannot face our sorrow it is to hard of an emotion to process. It hurts so much and touches us so deeply. On the other hand when we don't touch it, it expresses itself differently, usually in anger, irrational, this is not peaceful.  

All of these thoughts ran around my mind as I was sobbing uncontrollably again at 11pm.   My brave husband sat next to me supporting me as best as he could. I really love him, he's quite amazing, he can face the most difficult parts of me with love.  It wasn't pretty or beautiful or pleasant for him. It shows how much he truly values me that he will stick by me even when I have snot dripping out of my nose and my eyes are red from crying. 

From Grief to Grace

Life just overwhelmed me, as I sat there asking my husband to talk to Sweet Potato because everything seems to be a fight these days.  We discussed the regression and how we can parent her though it. Her not being present, not connecting, but at least she wasn't causing trouble, just being odd. She has lost her Grandmother, her friends she's moved into a new house, life is hard.  A wave of grief swept over me, poignant pain, how I wished I could call my mom and just have her listen. I sobbed like a lost child into the pillow. My knight being the strong silent type got me tissues and waited for this episode to pass.  Eventually the gentle rubbing on my back brought me up for air.  The pain, the ache subsides once more and I go back to my life as a wife, a mom... the official unpacker of boxes.

When I try and talk to Sweet Potato about her disruptive behavior, the continual push back, she says "But I'm stressed"... at dinner tonight when she brought it up again as her reason for lallygagging all day with her (half!) speed school.... I pointed out We Are All Stressed! Little Miss Sunshine jumped on the band wagon and continued on the theme, when Sweet Potato spreads her stress to mom, it spreads to dad, and then trickles down to her.  Well on the whole she didn't appreciate it.  

We all decided "stress" isn't like manure and isn't necessarily a good thing to spread around.  I realized having to call the ACA (Obama Care) with out a web connection or knowing where all the documents are but knowing I need to make this call asap. It only took an hour or so but I was so stressed.  Sitting at the DMV thinking of all the lost time, because thankfully I realized my license will expire soon... so much easier to renew than replace. Sadly I was correct when I got home Sweet Potato did not self start, but she did do her self care. Which she pointed out with firmness.

In my quiet time before my day started I really thought why are we so unconnected. I realized in my desire to:
help
please
make her happy
be the loving kind mom
The respected mom got lost some where in-between the the closed door to her room and the iPod in her ears.

Then she hands me a perfect reason to limit them... Ha-ha-ha.  I caught her sleeping on her bed when she was supposed to be studying. Late nights, worry, not enough exercise, and peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast will do that to you.  So her door went open, the iPod given a time allotment in the evening, and she had to do her work where I could see her.  I also called her on every occasion she showed disrespect, lots of do overs and try it again cupcake came out of my mouth today.

Thank Goodness! One of the neighbor girls stopped by to ride bikes "After School." That was the impetus she needed to finish her school and come to dinner with a smile ready to talk... Did I move dinner time to accommodate her, Yes did she deserve it.. No,  but isn't that what grace is for.

Crossroads

This is a poem I have been working on since October of 2014. I never felt it was quiet finished but since My knight In Shining Armor posted poetry  I sat down hoping the muse would also smile upon me.  I was able to pour out yet more of my emotions into finally finishing this poem.

Crossroads

Brokenhearted at the crossroads I stand.
No matter where the road turns or where I land,

You are right beside me.

No signs say this way is best,
Should I just tamely follow the rest?
Not a breeze flutters my hair,
as I ask "Which way Lord?" To the air.

Your silence is disconcerting...

Once voice says:
Your sad at my choice.

One voice says:
This is just a test.

One voice says:
You can freely choose.

So I ask again "Lord which way?"

The frogs go peep, the crickets sigh,
A dog in the distance howls a lonely cry.
Tears course down my cheeks at the sound,
They fall to the earth, rich and round.

My Lord and I stand side by side,
You hold my hand, I whisper, "Is it here we bide?'
Not a step forward or back does he go,
So here we stand; at the crossroad.

The sky turns pink at the setting of the day,
The clouds converge in a fantastic display,
Through the gathering storm descends the sun.
When will we be all one?

Do these paths go plodding on and on?
Does one lead to glory?
Does one lead to death?
We watch and I wait for the dawn.

The day has begun beautiful; yet devastated.
The death of dawn so unexpected.
Who knows the pain of walking through this door.
My grief lost in the midst of more,

My Lord holds my hand as we go through,
Saying gently, I know this too.
Hard things are worth doing is what I will tell.
All I ask, is that you finish well.

-Sara

Edit: Aug 27, 2015

My daughter loved my poem so much she painted this for me. 

A Time To Mourn.

My Dad in an email shared with me how he feels we his children have overcome our grief and mourning more quickly.

I wonder if he is correct in his thinking have I recovered quickly? Daily I face moments when I realize my mom is not here to tell this or that story too. It hits me like an arrow to my heart, I'm saddened by my loss.  Dad hates that term loss; yet for me it perfectly describes my feelings. It's a loss for me. Mom is not lost, and I'm not lost in the sense of "I have lost my way," but I am being deprived of my relationship with her and that is loss.

I was annoyed with Amy Carmichael when I read she insisted on the funeral marches in India be happy occasions full of joy. I could see her point to be a witness to those around her but in what way did that help her and her compatriots mourn the loss of their friend?

How can I sit down and say "But Dad it is a loss..."  I'm not starting that discussion, because I don't see him in that place. It's better to just listen and let him express his emotions. Funny how so many of my thoughts are so very different, sometimes even opposite of his. Maybe I'm finally learning tact? Oh wait I'm posting it on a blog so maybe not.  

When I'm driving and it hits me, I can't take the time to cry it out. I thought I would be able to take time to grieve at my friends house which I did but it was a small window.  I have children, I have responsibilities that draw me into the world, that pull me out of my grief. My friend was in such a great need of help that I just threw myself into as much work of helping as I could and like in the line of that great Jane Austen movie Persuasion,  "How can I be melancholy? When you have come to visit?" I hope I got that right. So much to talk about; 5 years of catching up to do and plenty of weeds to pull.

Of course my choosing to work instead of cry could be denial and it will hit me when I least expect it. I do know mom was not a "daily" part of my life before. I would hoard up things to tell her in our marathon phone calls. We lived 1300 miles away.  Yet I knew if I needed her advice or a recipe I could call her. It is that aspect of our relationship I miss.

There are other parts that I don't miss, at one point in my life I sat down and wrote myself a list of do's and don'ts for my relationship with mom. It really helped me set up healthy boundaries with her and I grew as a person. I would love to talk about that and walk through that aspect of my life, but not with my father. He doesn't see it in the same way that I do, nor do I expect him to. He will always hold a parental point of view. So I suppose to him I look like I'm over it.  In some ways I am and in others I'm not, I still get ambushed by my emotions.

I have lived with grief for so long. It is something I think people miss when one shares about infertility. When you go to adopt a child they make you take a long hard look at your grief, because if it's ignored it can cause so many issues in the adoptive family.  Maybe that is why I don't show it as much. Grief over all the children I never got to hold in my arms, the kick I never felt in my belly, has been a long term companion, yet it has been practically ignored by those around me. For me infertility equates tremendous loss, the death of all of my children by reading a paper with test results on it.  I would get funny looks if I burst into tears over my infertility. I mean come on, "you can just adopt", Or "God has a better plan for your life." "You are supposed to be married but without the encumbrances of children." The things people said you would not believe. My grief became very private shared with only a trusted few.

After mom's death I tried once to explain how I felt to dad,  about how infertility and grief is linked, and my experiences with the process of loss. He pretty much shut me down immediately, in no way can I compare the loss of children I have never known to his life with mom. So I guess he is right I can't know the depth of his love for her and sadly he cannot know the depth of my grief for my un-conceived children.

His pain is so real and raw and my pain is a re-healing wound.  I have felt this pain before, I know I can live with it, and because God is faithful, I know I will still have joy. If it bleeds I will let it, but at this point I'm not picking at the scab.

Triggers

I find it odd the things that ambush me at this time of the loss. Walking in the back yard and expecting to see mom on the swing. Thinking of a funny story that I want to tell her, but she is not here to tell. I could go all day long and be fine and then someone pours out sympathy for my loss and the tears start to flow. 

Yesterday while my dad was paying bills he came across the Easy Pass bill. It had all the comings and goings as marked by the toll booths. Two AM trips to the hospital. Returning home at 11pm at night. Weeks of traveling everyday. It was like he was reliving each of those moments. 

We ran into the Hospice chaplain at the farmers market today.  He said something that was actually comforting.  All the sadness, grief, and the loss; it is just an expression of the depth of the love they had for each other.  I really see this as true. The loss it cuts so deep, because they were so deeply in love. Their lives beautiful intertwined in a graceful dance of love and God and family. 

I'm still in utter awe that God has given me this privilege to be here just where I can be of help.  To be present, that theme that runs throughout my parenting. Presence instead of a present, time spent is so much more important than the things we give. 

On Mothers Day... I would rather go camping.

Mothers Day also corresponds to the same day I got to meet Sweet Potato. A huge thrill for me, :-)  it was Monday in India and Mothers day in the states. How exciting!!!

A dozen years later I still find my self wishing I were camping on Mothers Day.  In TX the weather is fantasic and not too many bugs.  The kids are happy and lots of freedom to explore and plenty of down time and quiet time and campy distractions to keep their minds occupied.

Holidays are just not really that fun in our house. I always wanted to be the Mom that decorated for each holiday, Shamrocks in March,  Hearts in Feburary etc.. I soon learned to greet holidays with trepidation. Holidays bring about thoughts of family and fun. At the same time they bring about thoughts of loss and grief.  My minds often boggles at the brains ability to handle duelisms.  I wonder how much at war are my children's minds on holidays? Experiencing happiness and joy to suddenly be ambushed by guilt and grief a few minutes later. How do they do it, and I often wonder what should my expectations be on their abilities to handle it.

This Moms day I planned a day of fun because gotcha day is often celebrated too. The mall for Sweet Potato and a game night (for the rest of us.) I had hoped the fun of the day would help keep her mood sweet. Yet through out the day her behavior was... shall we say... not so hot. My hubby even noticed! Even tho I was doing the high nurture, high structure, making compromises, saying yes, she was just not co-operating.  Looking back I realized we made a few mistakes today.  We ALL should NOT have gone to the mall. It should have been her alone with just one parent. Letting her revel in shopping is fine, but the whole family ended up getting annoyed with the time it takes for her to buy one shirt. I swear she tried on half the store. I think we gave her to big of an audience and to much choice.

Daddy should not have agreed to her napping while all the chores and party prep were being done.  When we don't give her work to do we are in-part saying "Hey you're a guest not a family member." The sly puss when given a pretty easy chore of putting away a few bags of party groceries just before the guest were due to arrive, actually disagreed with me for 10 minutes about where to put away the heavy whipping cream... Did you know all dairy products belong in the cupboard!!! Ya I'm not buying what your selling.   I kept asking her to: "Try it again cupcake." "Can you say that in a respectful tone of voice?"  Eventually I just resorted to asking her to say "Mom ya caught me being smarmy."  *sigh*  Then the carton finally got put in the fridge. with that quirky grin of hers. 

A late bed time became even later when she informed me of some things she was missing. So off to the pharmacy we went... When we got home she had a sensory melt down.  After we resolved the sensory thing. She got ready for bed. I came in to check on her and found her now gleefully using the things she just had a melt down over, looking up at me with a now guilt ridden look on her face while her mouth was insisting it was still a big bad awful sensory experience.  I just praised her "Woo hoo look at you overcome that fear! Thank you for trying, your doing a great job."
(She got so mad at me. I totally know why too :-P  afterwards when I was sharing the scenario with hubby I had to run the water so she didn't hear my peals of giggling.)

The original sensory issue could have totally been real, and now a few minutes later when her Fontal Lobe was no longer hijacked by her Amygdala, she could handle it. So I cuddled her, and after a few words I asked a simple question. "So if you played with that when I wasn't here does that mean you win and I lose?"
She said "Yes..."
"So catching you at it does that mean I get a point?"
She said "Yes." (I was this child... figuring this one out was so easy.... I just thought what would my teen brain be doing).
I held her tight and said "Oh honi if you over come this issue it's a win for you, and to set the record straight I can't win or loose in this game your playing because we'll honi I'm not."
She was confused "Not what?"
"I'm not playing your game." I replied as I kissed her and sent her off to brush her pearly whites.

But I realized the first thing I did totally wrong was:  I should have insisted on Breakfast IN Bed.

The Anatomy of a Teddy Bear

This is the teddy bear my grandmother made. I remember a bed full of teddy bears, a virtual forest of them to choose from. They were all different because grandma made them from scraps and donated material. I looked and looked but none stood out like this bear. He once had red corduroy overalls. They have long since worn away to tatters. This is my attachment object. I used to stress out that I couldn't take him with me if we had a fire. I couldn't sleep without him hugged tight within my arms.

I still have him after years, and years, and years.  He was my confidant and playmate when no one else would play with me. He also came in handy, when I needed to whack my brother. He was the embodiment of my grandmothers hugs and love for me.
So here is:

The Anatomy of a Teddy Bear. 

Little ears to hear all your dreams, joys, and sorrows.

Pink nose to kiss.

Rough fabric worn smooth.

Corduroy worn to the weft from too much play. 

Flattened stuffing from being slept on,

Hugged almost to pieces.

Mismatched repairs because he needed "surgery"

Eyes that rattle so you can find him when he hides under the covers.

Stains from mud and pie.

The love of a grandmother felt everyday.

In loving memory of Grandma (Margaret) Rodriguez 1923 - 2012