Parents Are Human Too

While celebrating my son's birthday recently, he asked me once again what it was like the day he was born.

 

I think every child likes to reminisce about the day of their birth and what everyone was doing as they were arriving into the world.  His questions about how long I was in labor, what was happening in the hospital and what Daddy was doing were expected.

 

But that conversation evolved into a bittersweet conversation about his Dad and some of the frustrating health issues he had before his death.  His Dad (my husband) was diabetic and injected insulin.  He was not overweight.  He developed diabetes later in life and controlled his diabetes with pills for a number of years but then was hospitalized with acute pneumonia which caused his sugar levels to go out of control.  Injecting insulin was the only way the doctors could stabilize his sugar count.

 

Too put it mildly, diabetes and my husband were not a good match at all.  I know of two people who are diabetic and both inject insulin.  They are religious about checking their blood sugar, eating well and exercising on a regular basis.  These were not things my husband did on a regular basis or even wanted to do daily.

 

His pills would sit on the table, he would go for hours without testing his blood sugar, he would eat desserts and he would drink alcohol.  Don't get me wrong.  I loved my husband desperately but there were times when I felt I was fighting harder for his health than he was.  I will give him credit for the efforts that he did make for short periods of time when he would try to change his habits but then it would become too much and he would let it all slide again.

 

 

Our son remembers the arguments about diet and exercise and medicine and I know that this created anxiety.  I don't particularly enjoy answering these questions from my son but I'm also not going to hide the truth from him and run away from the reality of our situation.  Going back in our memories to those times is painful and we truly tried to make things easier for him because we knew he was sick but in the end it wasn't enough.

 

It is very hard to explain to a child that their parent is not all that they think they are or want them to be.  You want to think and talk only about the good times but that's not life.  We have to learn to take the good with the bad. 

We're all human.  We make mistakes.  Our hearts are in the right place and so are our intentions but we don't always carry through on our goals.  I've had my share of screw-ups but I'm still here so my son can argue with me when he is annoyed or angry at something I've done.  His Dad isn't here and he can't talk to him or confront him with his issues and that creates pain and sometimes anger.

Give yourself and others permission to feel and talk about these conflicted emotions.  In the end, I think it's okay to love someone but still be angry at them for some of the choices they made while they were with you. 

It's their actions that we don't like because our love for the person is still there.  Always.

Special Birthday Wishes

Twenty three years ago today, my magical son was born!

From the bottom of my heart I couldn't love you more!!  You are a joy and a wonder and watching you grow into a young man is and always will be exciting.

I know this past year has been a challenge for you but you have never been one to run away from difficult situations and I know that this coming year holds some good, solid, life-changing news for you!!  I don't know what the good news will be, but I sense it will be delivered to you this year just as sure as I know that you are a special guy!

I am so proud of you and how far you have traveled on your life's journey.  Continue to be true to yourself and follow your passions and you will never stray from making your heart happy!

 

Happy birthday and best wishes always to you my beloved son for many, many more!!

To close out this loving birthday post, here's a special rockin' greeting to you from The Beatles:

 

Being A Mommy

On June 25, 1990 my life changed forever.

 

I gave birth to a magical baby boy and I discovered a kind of love I had never known before.

 

A fierce, unconditional and wonderous kind of love that continues to take my breath away!
 

I say surprising because I was totally unprepared for the depth and the size of this love for my son.  As the oldest of six children and one of 35 first cousins, I grew up constantly surrounded by babies and toddlers.  Also, there is only seven years separating me and the youngest of my siblings, who are twins.  That's a lot of bottles and diapers but also a lot of fun!

 

I adore children and find them to be exhausting but special little creatures who I automatically love for their spontaneity and ability to constantly reveal the world to you in fresh and exciting ways.  I thought I had figured out what motherhood would feel like because I had been taking care of children since I was six or seven years old.

 

Until I gave birth to my own child. 

 

Holding my baby boy after giving birth was a truly powerful and emotional experience.  All those feelings of love, protection, hope, joy and expectations came at me all at once as I gazed down at his beautiful face!

My son is now 22 years old and I can definitely say that I love him more than anything else in the whole world!   But I also can definitely say that I like him as a person and enjoy hanging out and talking to him whenever we can.

I love this picture of my son!!! He is so happy!!

Raising my son with his father and then later as a widow, has made me dig down within myself and try to work on the twisty sides of myself and put him first.  In other words, to consider what life is like from his perspective, not in an indulgent way, but in the way of trying to understand that he has been dealt something in life that is entirely different from what I knew as a child.

He has brought out a different side of myself and helped me become a better person.  Being mother and father has not been easy but I have to say that I wouldn't trade one second of it because those jobs are the most important jobs we are ever asked to do.

Today I think of those early days when a sticky kiss and a hug from my son as a baby and a toddler where the best things I could ever receive to the current days of animated and quiet conversations about life that end with "Thanks Mom! I love you!"

Thank you Ryan!!!!!!!!  Being your mom is the best!!!!
 

The Art of Resilience

Being Proactive Can Strengthen Your Resilience

The subject of resilience totally fascinates me.

Resilience is being able to bounce back after being tossed around by life.  Trying to figure out why one person bounces back from a life trauma and another person breaks from the pain tells us something about the human condition don't you think?

 

It's a roll of the dice. It's the $64 million question.

The ability to stay on track and keep your focus, the ability to develop an inner strength in the face of adversity is inspiring to me and in turn I draw strength from other people's stories of getting through a serious illness, a financial setback or the loss of a loved one.

 

When I read or hear about other people's experiences with life's hardships, I am always curious about what they were thinking as they went through it and what kept them going.  Sometimes it strengthens my resolve and I think to myself, "If they can do it, then so can I."

After my husband died, I searched everywhere for stories about widows raising children and read all the stories about it that I could find so that I might figure out what I was going to do.  The best advice I read was this:  don't ignore your problems or try to wish them away.  Take each day as it comes and if you can't bear to look past 24 hours or even an hour, then don't.

 

Try to break the moments down into manageable blocks of time.  Sometimes that's only 10 minutes but that's okay.  Often I would go from 10 minutes to the next 10 minutes and then the next 10 minutes until I found I had gotten through an hour and then I continued to slowly work my way through the time of pain.

I think it's good to know that the bouncing back part doesn't always happen immediately.  It takes awhile to figure out what's going on, put yourself somewhat back together and start following your usual daily routines.  During this time, reaching out to family and friends for support is key.

There is no way to predict which adult or child is going to find the determination and inner resolve to dig down within himself or herself and overcome the bad/stressful/unfair situation that life has thrown their way.  You might think that it's the person who has been given much in terms of material wealth and privilege but it's not always that way.

Sometimes the person who shows incredible amounts of inner strength is the person who has nothing.  No material goods and no parent.  Or the person has a parent but it's one that's an alcoholic or drug addict.  Or no job and no insurance.  Or no spouse and no idea what the future will bring.

 

If you have nothing or the one thing in life that you loved was taken away then you can as if you have nothing to lose and that in itself is a kind of resolve. 

 

Resilience isn't all about being tough and toughing it out, but more about opening yourself up to life and allowing yourself to be vulnerable and reaching out for support. 

 

You can't change what has happened but with courage, support, and a hopeful attitude, you and I can look toward the future and wahtever it may bring us.

Do Not Look Away

 

 

Courtesy of CNN.com

  

Holding a hand.  Giving a hug.  Opening your heart.

 

We must not be afraid to offer comfort and empathy.

 

I know it's hard to step outself of yourself and reach out to others in pain. To empathize requires introspection which is not a very popular exercise these days.  Introspection requires you to stop thinking about yourself and imagine what another person is feeling in a situation you would not want to happen to you or anyone else.

 

I know it is only a few days until Christmas, a time when Christians traditionally celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and people would prefer to surround themselves in the comfort of a commercial Christmas, a Christmas of unending presents and idyllic settings full of twinkling lights, freshly baked cookies and smiles and holiday joy.

 

But there is also another Christmas, equally as powerful: a Christmas belonging to those newly bereaved, a Christmas belonging to those whose child has died. 

Please pause this Christmas and think of these people who are desperate in their sorrow.  No matter what the reason, a shooting, a disease, an accident or a medical condition, these parents should not be ignored because they may make us feel uncomfortable.

 

To truly be filled with the spirit of Christmas, we must give of ourselves.  Though it truly is every parent's nightmare, please do not look away from those who are grieving the loss of a child.  Besides the deep pain they are experiencing, there is also an outrage that they are feeling; an outrage that they will never know what the child might have become.

 

They need our help.  They need to know they are not alone.

 

Please read the following Washington Post story written by a mother who writes of her raw feelings following the death of her child.  May it inspire all of us to be courageous in the face of grief:

 

Courtesy of CBS News

 

The death of a child: A parent’s worst nightmare

By Ann Hood, Published: The Washington Post, December 21

Ann Hood is a novelist and short-story writer living in Providence, R.I.

We are stunned. We are outraged. As a nation, we are questioning laws on gun control, questioning how such a thing can happen. These are all appropriate responses to the tragedy in Newtown, Conn.

 

But there is a repercussion to all this that will continue long after laws are changed and life, unbelievably, gets back to normal: the grief of the parents of the 20 children killed. How many times have I heard that this is a parent’s worst nightmare? As someone who has lived the nightmare of losing a child, I know that the enormous hole left behind remains forever.

My daughter, Grace, was not killed by a gun. She died suddenly at age 5 from a virulent form of strep. As I stood stunned in a church at her memorial, one of the hardest things I heard someone say was, “I’m going to go home and hug my child a little tighter.” Well, good for you, I thought. I’m going to go home and scream.

What can be said in light of such grief? What can you do? The problem is that no one can give the parents what they want most: their child. Long after the memorials fade and the casseroles stop coming, that child is still dead, and those parents are still grieving.

I offer here what I have learned about grief in the 10 years since my Gracie died:

I learned that platitudes don’t work. Time doesn’t heal. She is not in a better place. God does give us more than we can bear sometimes. I have learned that there is more power in a good strong hug than in a thousand meaningful words. I have learned that even in the face of loss, clothes still get dirty and bills still need to get paid. Friends who laundered our socks and answered our e-mails, who mowed our lawn and put gas in our cars, helped us — a lot. The friend who came one afternoon and went through Grace’s backpack, carefully storing her kindergarten workbook and papers, hanging her art on the refrigerator and her raincoat on its hook in the mudroom, had more courage than the ones who told me to call anytime.

Some friends sat with me day after day, week after week and, yes, month after month, and let me talk while they listened. I told the story of Grace’s last day over and over, as if by telling it I could make sense of what had happened to her, to us. But there is no sense to be made of such tragedy, and when I realized that, they let me wail and bang my fists and curse.

As time passes, people return to their ordinary lives, while grieving parents no longer have ordinary lives. They are redefining themselves, and they are at a loss at how to move forward. There is a woman who still sends me a card on Grace’s birthday and every Mother’s Day, who sent cards weekly for more than a year, a lifeline to a grieving mother. The people who even now, a decade later, still say Grace’s name, still comment on her quirky style and artistic talents and love of the Beatles, continue to help me through my days, simply by remembering her.

How easy it is to look away from grief, as if it might be contagious, or too frightening to face. But the Newtown parents have a difficult, lifelong journey through grief ahead of them. Somehow, the seasons will change, the anniversaries will stack up one after the other. They will, unbelievably, smile again. They will make dinner and change jobs and buy clothes and celebrate and travel. They will go on. But there will always, always, be this grief, softened and dulled but present every minute of every day.

Do not forget that. Look them in the eye. Take them in your arms, and do not let them go.

It's Not What You Think

  

 

 

 

To show you how little I knew about loss, I thought that the first year after my husband's death was going to be the hardest time that I would ever have to experience.  My thinking was something along the lines of  "If I can get the first year under my belt, then each year after that will become easier to handle."  Right?

Guess what? Not. Always. True.

Grief is always full of surprises and just when you think you have it under control, you don't.

The first year was so raw with emotion for me and such a blur of just getting through the 365 days of it, that the whole idea of my husband's death, the finality of it, didn't really and truly sink in at all. I thought about it, cried about it, read about it and even went to a support group for it but it still was a concept that danced all over the place and didn't settle in.

But the second year was different.  For me, the second year was harder than the first because it painfully confirmed for me over and over again that he wasn't coming back.  Ever.  That this was it and it's not like he's gone on a very long trip.  And then the second year also forced me to stop playing all those mind games with myself and face up to my new life. 

But what happened to me may not happen to you.

I know it sounds like a cliche, but it's still so true: everyone has their own grief journey to travel and no two journeys are the same.  There is no right way or wrong way to grieve.  There is only your way.

I'm not making this up.  It's really true.  Your reactions and experience with grief may be very different from mine and it's totally okay and normal.  It's normal because our relationships are different, our experiences are different, our emotional DNA is different, our religious beliefs are different and our expectations from life and the person we lost are different.

Unfortunately, no one prepares us for those differences. We may watch someone we know experience grief and we think that person's experience will be ours too.  But that isn't always the case.  I lost a husband.  Someone else may have tragically experienced the death of a child or a wife or a friend or a parent.

As much as we may want one and search for one, life does not provide us with a guide book on how we should grieve.  We all process pain and loss differently. 

We grieve because we love.  It is because we love that we grieve.  We care and we emotionally connect to other people and when that person is taken away, it is a shock that can take a long time to process.  On the surface, you are handling things, you take care of daily responsibilities and you go through life automatically.

 

But underneath, you may be a mess.

By the third and fourth year of grief, you think it's going to be so much better and sometimes it is.  I have two friends, they live in completely different cities, they don't know each other, they are different ages and both have lost spouses.  The woman has children and grandchildren and lost her husband suddenly in a tragic car accident.  The man has no children and nursed his wife through a lengthy illness until she died.

 

Both have told me they are surprised by the fact that they continue to grieve during their fourth year of loss.  They are active, positive people trying to change and rebuild their lives because both of them socialize, take classes and work.  They meet a lot of people but nothing has ever clicked.

So they forge forward, as I and others do, together, trusting that time will heal us as we journey to renewal and new opportunities.

It's what we know and we keep doing it until it gets better. 

 

 

Daddy's Office Time

From a child's point of view, the place where their parents work can be a place they dislike because it pulls the parent away from them.  Parents spend a lot of time at work and children may feel that they are competing with what goes on in the office.  "If you didn't have to work, you could be with me," is sometimes what a child thinks.

But what if your memories of your parent and their relationship with their work and their office is positive and you can't imagine your parent doing anything else but being in their office?  Your parent may love their job and their passion for their work may inspire you to try to find something that you can be equally passionate about.

Work world is where your parent and other adults are busy working on computers, talking on phones, doing things you don't quite understand but you want to be part of it because your parent loves being in this world.

In honor of Father's Day, this New York Times story captures a little girl's precious memories of her father and playing office so she could become just like him:

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/04/26/for-one-more-day-at-the-office/