A moment in time

You know how sometimes, you start to think about the deeper meaning of a certain event in your life, and suddenly, you are taken down an emotional path you didn't expect?  

Today is one of those days.

It began by waking my son and wishing him a happy birthday.  A fairly routine event in all of our lives.  Celebrating the birthdays of those close to us.  For parents, sometimes those birthdays carry a lot of emotion for one reason or another.  First birthdays for example.  Or, milestone birthdays like sweet 16 or turning 21.

Yet today, it got me.  It's not really a milestone birthday, but then again, it is.  He is my eldest child. Seventeen years ago today, he made me a mom. SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO.  How is that possible? I'm still 28!  Forget the fact I was actually 29 when he was born...

No, seriously.  How is it possible that 17 years have already flown by from the day he was born? Everyone always says, "Enjoy them, they grow up so fast!"  It's so true! There were many days when he was younger, I couldn't wait for him to get older.  There were equally as many days I wished I could somehow savor where he was and slowed down the whole growing up thing.

So why am I so emotional?  Well, aside from the obvious that my baby is growing up?  It's really a lot deeper than that.  He is one year away from official adulthood.  He is a senior in high school. Even though he still enjoys birthday streamers on his door, he's really no longer a child.  He's a young adult.  Aside from the fact he's driving and starting to blossom into a more independent young man, it hit me he'll be graduating next spring.  GRADUATING. That means he'll be leaving the nest.  He'll be going off to college.  I won't see him every day. I won't have any control over what he does, who he spends his time with, or where he goes.  I may not hear from him for days or weeks at a time.  He's going to leave his mama!

That scares the bejesus out of me!

It's already begun... kind of like training wheels for both of us I suppose.

I know it's as much about letting go for me as it is about learning to be independent for him.  I get it. I just don't like it.

After some thought, I realized that today, it's the anticipatory grief of letting him go.  Even though rationally, I know this is how development works.  But I've already lost a child.  For real. To an accidental and preventable death.  My greatest fear is losing another one, be it literally or figuratively. Statistics tell me that's not likely (they also told me Meghan's death was not likely) and statistics also tell me that these next few years are fraught with opportunities for stupid choices on his part or those of whom he spends his time with, and that one lapse in judgement, one moment of peer pressure, and... well, it can rob an anxious mama of her sleep for years to come!

I know I will need to let go and hope and pray I've raised him to do the right things in life.  I have to hope he will embrace the challenges that lay ahead of him and rise to the occasion to take the reins of life and make good, healthy choices.  I've taught him how to use his wings properly, it's up to him to fly. I hope he can say, "No." I have to hope he finds happiness and success and that learns from his mistakes without serious life long consequences.  I have to hope he will learn to fly without my constant reminders, nagging, and support.  I hope he'll want to learn to fly.  Hell, I hope he'll remember to eat since he's too damn lazy to make himself anything!

It's more than that, though.

It's also a day that makes me look back 17 years to who I was then, and who I've become today, in large part, thanks to him and his brother and sister.  Becoming a parent changes you forever.  No one and nothing can prepare you for that.  He was a very challenging child on many levels.  He still is at times.  He taught me as much as I taught him, maybe more.

I am most definitely not the same person I was this day seventeen years ago.  I am most definitely not the person I thought I'd be as he embarks on his senior year in high school.  My life is really not at all what I imagined it would be the day he was born.  Is anyone's?

A lot can happen in 17 years.  I can't help but think about all he's seen and been through in his 17 years.  All we've been through together.  The birth of twin siblings when he was 3.  He lost his beloved sister when he was merely 6 years old. For a time, he even blamed himself, thinking he should have somehow been able to save her.  He really struggled with her loss, and still does today. He has learned a lot about grief and emotion, life, love, and death, and the importance of grief keeping, sharing, and honoring life and death.  He is a wise old soul. I wonder what his life's purpose is.  I wonder where his path will lead him...

It is worth mentioning, today is also a trigger day for me.  Yes it's HIS birthday, but I can't help but wonder what his relationship with is sister would be like today. It is a day that she should be here, celebrating with us, but she is not.  It makes my heart ache for all of us.  What she would want to do to celebrate her big brother and his bird day (yes, bird day)?  I'm pretty sure she'd make it special.  It makes me so sad that she's not here to celebrate with us.  To celebrate him.  It makes days like this very bittersweet for me.  I am often on the verge of tears and irritable for much of the day, all while trying to go about my day and make it be all about him, as it should be.  Well, I DID give birth to him, and that was no picnic! So I should get a little shout out! :-)

That's just how grief manifests sometimes.  When you don't always expect it to.

He is also a child of divorce, and has 2 step-parents. That was obviously not what I expected to be the state of our family 17 years ago.  He's already been in 2 weddings, ours!  He has a fantastic relationship with his step-dad, less so with his step-mother.  He has a large extended family and step-family.  I know he loves his mama!  Even if it's mostly because I feed him.  He is the big brother, and is learning to balance that role as a positive role model/mentor role and the obligatory teasing and sibling rivalry that brothers share.  He's been to more wakes and funerals and weddings than most kids his age.  He's had a lot of loss in his life. Then again, he's also had a lot of love and learned how to cope with all of these things, and he now has an empathy and compassion far beyond most boys his age as a result.  He is fantastic with younger children, too. The girls think he's all that.  He is a handsome fella...

Then there is the history that he's witnessed and the state of the world today, not to mention what he and all of our children will inherit in the years to come...  It makes a mama's heart ache for her son's future.  All I want is for him to be happy, healthy, and safe.

He's also had a lot of wonderful experiences, lots of love and joy, the opportunity to travel, and an abundance of silliness!  Because that's how we roll.  He's learned, hopefully, that there is something to learn from everything that happens in our lives, good and bad.  We always have choices and all choices have consequences, be they good or bad.  No one does anything to us.  We choose what we do and how we react.  We control how we feel, no one else does.  Ever.

So yeah, 17 years ago today, I woke with cramps.  The cat insisted on sitting on my big belly and kneading away.  You know, to distract me... He was 5 days "late". I shouldn't be surprised timeliness is not his strong suit these days.  I wandered around the house, restless, for a few hours.  I remember believing it was actually labor around 10:30 am.  Fast forward several hours and at 7:42 pm, I held my newborn son in my arms and my life was forever changed.  My heart understanding what unconditional love was for the very first time.  I had no idea what was in store for us, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

Happy birth day to my Kyle.  You are loved more than you can imagine.  You have taught your mama more than you can ever know, and I suspect you will continue to do so throughout your life.  You quite literally changed the course of mine.  I love your wit, your humor, your silliness, and your perspective.  I wish when you blow out those candles, all your dreams come true.

We need to talk...

I've spent the better part of the last several weeks writing.  Blog posts, Facebook posts, and Twitter posts on multiple sites and pages I manage.  I've also spent a good deal of time reading and commenting on the posts of others.  This post and it's subject matter have been swimming in my head for several weeks.

The crux of it is, we need to talk.  There needs to be a conversation that not only starts, but continues. It's already started, but the focus is not where it needs to be.  Perhaps I can help shift to focus to where it should be.  Where it needs to be.

The Conversation
Most of the conversation the past few weeks has revolved around two things.  Child Safety and kids dying.  Two things I am clearly passionate about, and for me, have been part of my conversations for the past ten years.  It wasn't my choice to have these passions.  It was born of circumstance. Circumstances that are now part of the fabric of who I am, what I do, and why I write.

Oddly, it seems many people don't understand how these two things go together.  Or, perhaps more accurately, they do understand, but they don't want to think about it.  They don't want it thrown in their face. Especially at a time when they are having a good time, gathered with friends and family, and expecting to be entertained by both by the people around them and what they are watching on TV.

Yes, I'm referring to the Superbowl and the highly controversial Nationwide ad for Make Safe Happen.  I've written about it before and you can refer to that post for my feelings on the ad itself.

Having read many comments on many social media, news, and blog sites, I am saddened.  Not just because so many people did not *get* the message, but the actual reason they did not get the message or outright refused to get the message, even when it was explained to them.  DEATH SCARES THE S*IT OUT OF PEOPLE.  Especially when it's about kids.

Death:  Don't Wanna Even...
Am I wrong?  Does the thought of a loved one dying, especially suddenly and unexpectedly, scare the pants off you?  You don't want to think about it do you?  You certainly don't want to think about what it would be like to get that phone call, that visit to your door from an officer, or the doctor and the social worker at the door of your loved one's hospital room.  So many people refuse to create wills, health care proxies or power of attorney documents because they just don't want to think about death. Or think they can put it off until "later" and then, when death comes, later turns out to be tomorrow...

You fear your spouse having a heart attack or being in a fatal car accident.  You know your loved one with cancer is fighting for their life but you don't want to consider they might not win, even if they have. You absolutely don't want to ever have to go to a child's wake or funeral because it's just too hard to even think about, let alone have it be for YOUR CHILD.

So what do you do instead?  You get pissed off when someone else confronts you with it.  Especially if they confront you with it out of nowhere, when you were not expecting it.  Even worse, if it's a time when you are gathered with friends and family in celebration.

Guess what.  That's the point.  That's what it's like for thousands of people every single day.  Their perfectly happy lives are shattered when a loved one suddenly and unexpectedly dies.  Death, like that ad, doesn't come when you are "ready" for it. It does not always come with a warning.  It comes when it damn well pleases.  Sometimes you can prepare for it, sometimes you cannot. Sometimes there are things you can do to prevent it, sometimes there are not. There is no good time for a loved one to die. None.

There was no better time to air that Nationwide ad.  Why?  A huge audience, full of parents.  Who is their target audience?  Parents.  What was their goal?  Education and yes, maybe even shock value. They wanted to get your attention, and they did.  The message, preventable accidents are the # 1 cause of death to children and a kid can die just this fast, and when they do, this is how it feels.  Don't like it?  MAKE SAFE HAPPEN.  It was that simple.

Misplaced Emotions or No Idea What to do with Them?
Of course people got pissed off.  How dare Nationwide make me confront a subject I'm not comfortable with?  How dare they do it when *I* am having a good time?  How dare they not warn me they were going to "kill" my Superbowl buzz by killing a kid?  They (you?) didn't want their happy family and friends feel good party "ruined."  I get it.

Neither did I.  On December 18th, 2004 I was supposed to be wrapping Christmas gifts and making cookies and crafts with my kids.  Instead, I woke up to find my daughter crushed beneath her dresser. I spent half the day at hospitals.  I came home with a box of her hand and foot prints and a lock of her hair. And overwhelming guilt. She went to the morgue. I didn't want Christmas ruined in 2004 (and for the rest of my life) when instead, I had to bury my daughter who died from a preventable tip-over accident 3 days before Christmas.  I COULD HAVE PREVENTED HER DEATH!

Your Superbowl party might have been brought down by a commercial.  My entire life came crashing down around me when my daughter died from a preventable accident.  One I could have prevented, had I known of the danger.  Had I believed the danger.  Had I known the statistics.  If only... Their goal was to educate you so you don't ever have to know what it's like to be me. Get it?  That ad, might have saved my daughter's life if I'd seen it ten years ago.

Despite my pain, despite the trigger, I loved the ad.  Why?  IT CAN SAVE LIVES!  It can prevent you from ever having to feel the pain I do.  The pain millions of parents feel every year.  The pain of losing a child to something you could have prevented. I already live with the pain of losing a child. An ad is not going to change that. If only it were that easy...

So I'm sorry your SuperBowl viewing experience was ruined for a few minutes.  Really.  But guess what?  You then went back to your eating, drinking, laughing, and regularly scheduled life.  My "regular" life is nothing like it was supposed to be.  I'm sorry, but get over it.

Must Know Info: Grief is a Journey and it Lasts a Lifetime
You know, it's also interesting to me how many bereaved parents were outraged.  They slammed Nationwide for being insensitive to bereaved parents.  That bereaved parents were triggered by the commercial and it should not have been shown during the Superbowl.  That showing an ad that depicted a child dying was in poor taste. They were angry they were watching with the bereaved siblings of the child that died, and they siblings may have also been upset by the trigger.  Or fellow bereaved family members who took offense to their escapist Superbowl viewing being hijacked by a commercial that reminded them of their loss.

Look, I get it. I am a bereaved parent.  I know the spot was a trigger.  I know it blindsided people whether they had ever lost a child or not.  Grief is forever.  Triggers happen.  They suck.  I hate them as much as the next person.  I knew what was coming and I still cried when it aired. It was powerful and compelling. Nationwide did not deliberately try to upset bereaved parents.  Parents who did not lose a child to a preventable accident may have also missed the point of the ad, because of their own grief.  That's understandable. Would there have been a "good" or "better" time to air that ad?  If it triggered you then, it would have triggered you whenever you happened to see it.  Perhaps you'd have been less likely to see it if it were not aired during the Superbowl.

Many of us prefer to be alone in our grief, or when triggered unexpectedly, but what about the benefit of having the support of others in our grief?  What about taking advantage of having friends and family around to support each other, have a conversation, and help us work through our grief? Especially when something like this happens?  That was the gift inside of this commercial for families who are bereaved for any reason, but especially the loss of a child.  The opportunity to start or continue the conversation about death and grief. Of course if your loss was recent, this is often harder to do and I am sensitive to that.  Really, I am.

Even if you had not ever lost a child, if you didn't like the ad during the Superbowl, you would not have liked it any better during your favorite reality, sitcom, or drama show, either.

The Truth
Let's be real and honest here. Your objection to the ad was not *really* that it aired during the Superbowl. It was that it involved the death of a child and it made you uncomfortable.  That discomfort was likely amplified by the fact you were probably in a social environment, and with other people who were equally uncomfortable with a serious subject like the death of a child.  You probably did not have much experience discussing death and/or are uncomfortable with it, or even if you did, you might have felt peer pressure to go along with the crowd and their reaction.  Chances are you stuffed whatever emotion the ad dredged up in you, or, impulsively blamed Nationwide for YOUR discomfort with the death of a child (and likely completely missing the point of the ad), and went back to the party and the game.

I was watching with my two sons, who are obviously bereaved siblings.  We talked about it right after it aired.  They were not upset by it.  They *got* it.  Once they understood the reason the ad was made that way, and what it was really about, they were able to see the benefit.  They were proud their sister is helping to save lives through Meghan's Hope and my involvement with the Nationwide Make Safe Happen campaign.

Why were my kids not upset?  Probably largely because we *do* talk about death in this house.  We talk about how Meggie died, why she died, and what we can do to prevent it from happening to others. I don't shelter them from death, I never have and I never will.  Even when they were 3 and 6 the day she died, they were involved in all of it in an age-appropriate way. We are an open, honest, real family. We talk about triggers and that it can be upsetting when things remind us of her and the way she died. We talked about how others might not feel the same way we do and why.  I want my kids to understand and be comfortable talking about death.

While talking about triggers, what about the 911 ad?  How do you think victims of domestic violence felt about that ad?  Don't you think it was a trigger for them?  What about people who lost children to cancers or other illness and their reaction to the St. Jude commercial?  What about alcoholics and people who lost loved ones to drunk driving and all the beer commercials?  Triggers can happen to anyone, anywhere, anytime and for any reason. Yes, for those who have lost a loved one and especially a child they may be more intense, but there are other kinds of losses that cause just as strong of a grief reaction.

To a point, we can only relate to what we know and what we believe to be true.  When it comes to grief, everyone does it differently.  Everyone brings to any discussion their personal, cultural, religious and spiritual beliefs along with their personal life experience.

The Power of Choice 
Yet we always have a choice.  We can choose to be pissed off and self-absorbed about our personal feelings about anything, in this case the Nationwide ad, and the fact they used a child that died from a preventable accident to educate parents that preventable accidents are the #1 cause of death to children. That their kids could be at risk.  Really. Not someone else's kids. THEIR kids.

Nationwide made it real. Reality, when it involves death, makes most of us uncomfortable.

Instead of getting the message.  Instead of going to the makesafehappen website or checking out the app to see what it was all about, people lashed out against Nationwide for "killing a kid during the Superbowl."  They chose to place blame on Nationwide for how it made them feel.  Nationwide did not "make" you feel or do anything.  That's all you.  They created an emotional, compelling, PSA. How you chose to react to it was all you. Really, we need to start owning our feelings, understanding them, and stop blaming others, no matter what it is we feel. The only person responsible for how you feel is you.

Let me say that again.  The only person responsible for how you feel is you.

I propose it was much less about how people felt about the commercial itself and a whole lot more about how death-averse we are as a society.  People missed both messages embedded in that commercial.  In doing so, they missed both an opportunity to learn more about preventable accidents and making kids safer and they missed the opportunity to have a real, honest, and important conversation about death, dying, and grief.

The Conversation Begging to be Had
Here is the thing.  Death is part of life.  We are all going to die.  We all know that, but no one seems to want to actually acknowledge it until they have no choice.  Yes, we would love to believe that we will all live long, happy, healthy and full lives and die of old age when we are damn good and ready to.

Except life doesn't always work that way.

People die.  Some after living long, fulfilling, wonderful lives. Some before they are born.  Some die of horrible diseases they did not ask for or deserve. Some die in car accidents or plane crashes that were no fault of their own.  Some will have a heart attack or stroke with no risk factors or warning signs.  Some die trying to save the lives of others like the members of our armed forces or first responders.  Some are horribly murdered.  Some commit suicide.  Some die in an accident that may have been preventable.  Sometimes the victims of these accidents are kids.

There is never a good time to lose someone we love.  When kids die, it hits us especially hard.  Even if we don't know them. Why?  Kids are not supposed to die. Certainly not before their parents.  Of course not everything that takes the life of a child can be prevented.  But many accidents can be prevented. Why would you not want to do everything you can to protect children so they have every opportunity to live long, happy, and healthy lives?

Nationwide started a conversation.  They want to educate people that accidents are the #1 cause of death to children.  They want to teach parents and those who care for children what the dangers are and how to make their homes and their children safer.  It's that simple.  It's that important.  They provided a wonderful resource and information in the Make Safe Happen website and app.  They want to save the lives of children.

I want to take it one step further.  Let's also let it be a catalyst for talking about death, dying, and grief.  Let's learn how to support others who have lost someone they love.  Let's learn how to support someone who is dying and those who love them.  Let's talk to our families about what would be important to us when we are facing the end of life or after we die.  I've tried to start this conversation, at least with regard to understanding and supporting bereaved parents, with my book Out of the Darkness.  

What you can do
I ask of you two things.

First, If you've not yet done so, please visit the Make Safe Happen Website and download the app or, if you don't have young children in your life, share it with someone who does.

Second, make a date on your calendar to talk to your spouse, significant other, children, family members and/or friends about what would be important to you if you were dying.  What you'd want after you die for services.  Create a health care proxy, power of attorney, and will if you've not done so already.  Don't wait for a health crisis, or for when you get older, or allow it to be put off over and over again.  Do it now.  It will make everything so much easier when death does come knocking for everyone involved.

Be the change.

Thank you.

Meghan’s Hope and Nationwide are partners in the Make Safe Happen campaign. While all opinions expressed here are my own, I have received compensation from Nationwide for promotion of their Make Safe Happen campaign materially or financially.

A Letter to Meggie on her 10th Angelversary

Dear Meggie,

As I sit in your bedroom on this, the 10th anniversary of your death, I find myself thinking not only of your short three years here on earth, but wondering what you would be like today, had the unthinkable not happened.  Who would you be?  What would you have become?  You would be a teenager now!

Your twin brother is thirteen.  He is growing like the proverbial weed.  Ky-ole is over 6 feet and already a junior in high school!  How tall would you be now?  What would you look like? What would your voice sound like?  Would your eyes still hold that same wisdom? Would the boys be chasing you or would you be chasing them?  Never mind, I already know the answer to that one...

I gaze at the little lock of hair tied with a pink ribbon the nurses gave us the day you died. I can’t help but wonder, would your hair be long or would you prefer a pixie cut?  You never were one for keeping the “pretties” in for very long.  I wonder if your hair would still be that beautiful golden blonde or if it would have darkened like both of your brothers’ hair did.  

Would you be a girly-girl or more of a casual tomboy?  You liked to dress up but you also liked to be naked just as much!  You loved both your Tinker Bell jammies and your dinosaur jammies.  Your grandmothers would have kept you well supplied with girly clothes whether you liked it or not!

As I glance at the finger paintings and drawings you made, I can’t help but wonder, would you have been an artist?  You loved to paint!  You were very crafty.  Your hand and foot prints look so tiny now.  

I remember how active and busy you were. Would you be a dancer, gymnast, or soccer player like your brothers are?  I bet you’d have done all three of them!   Or, maybe you’d have done something entirely different.  My money is on gymnast.   

Would you still have a love of kitties, all things pink and sparkly, and Tinker Bell, or, would your tastes have changed?  Would you still be silly and playful?  I hope so.  I bet you would be.  Bampy would make sure you didn’t lose that!

Would you enjoy running 5k’s with your mother in silly costumes or would you roll your eyes in embarrassment like the boys do now? You always did run fast!  I probably wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.  I can’t keep up with your brothers, either.  

What would dinner time be like if you were here?  Would the family dynamic be significantly different?  Would you still like Veggie Booty?  Does anyone else even eat Veggie Booty?

If you continued to command attention the way you used to, I’m sure it would be different! You would have had your big brothers both wrapped around your little finger!  I bet there would be a lot more arguments about which movie we watch or what game we play.  Your brothers would have learned so much more about dealing with girls… and young women.  No doubt, you’d have set them straight and kept them in line.  They would have been fiercely protective of you, too.

I wonder if it would have been a Frozen Christmas this year…  Maybe we all would have gone to the Village for Christmas.  Auntie T would have totally sucked you in to glow with the show ears at Disney World!  Grammie and Bampy probably would have spent an arm and a leg to take you to the Bippidi Boppity Boutique so you could be a princess.  We would have had matching Tinker Bell wings and wands!  :-)

Speaking of Christmas, I know the joy of the season would be back if you were still with us. So much of the joy and sparkle of the season died with you.  It’s been such a struggle to get it back.  I try, but it’s so hard.  I know you send love and light every year, and occasionally throw down an angel or an ornament just to let us know your playful side is still with us.  Still, we miss you so much it hurts.  It literally hurts.

Instead of holding a photograph of you for the big family picture, I wish I was holding you.  

It’s so hard to believe it’s been ten years Meggie.  There are so many things I thought we’d share together that we’ve already missed.  The double birthday celebrations and parties for you and Ry. The first days of school and the last days of school.  Holidays and birthdays and gatherings with friends.  Family vacations and summer day trips.  The dance recitals and sporting events we never got the chance to share.  Trips to Disney.

And now, all I have to look forward to are more milestones without you. I won’t ever get to celebrate the rites of passage into womanhood with you.  I’ll never have the opportunity to teach you to drive.  I won’t get to see you grow into the amazingly beautiful and bright woman I know you would have been.  I won’t see you graduate, get married, or have your own children.  There will be no mother daughter mani-pedis, or girls only shopping trips.  No prom, no first dates, no bridal or baby showers… I’ll never be the mother of the bride.   

Instead, I spend all of these transitional moments missing you.  Every holiday.  Every milestone your brothers reach.  Every milestone I reach.  Every milestone you should have reached.  Every Mother’s Day. Every day.  Wondering who you would be at each of them. How it would be different if you were still here with us.  Feeling the pain of your absence.

I am alone in my pain of missing you, because it, like you, is invisible.  At least most of the time.  Others can’t see it, or don’t understand it, so they don’t acknowledge it.  

When Ry gets his learner’s permit I will cry.  When he graduates, I will cry.  When he goes to his first formal dance, I will cry.  When he marries, I will cry.  When your brothers achieve all of their milestones, I will cry.  Tears of happiness for him.  Tears of sadness for me, because there is forever one, where two should always have been.  

How will Ry feel?  Will he miss sharing these moments with his twin sister?  Does he wonder what it would be like if you were still his best friend?  His telepathic partner in mischief?  What would your twinship be like now?  Would you still insist “Ry Ry did it?”  He’d probably deny it now… I think he’d catch on eventually.

How will Kyle feel?  Does he ever think about what life would be like now with his “baby” sister?  How it would be different?  

The world will forever see I have 2 boys where 2 boys and a beautiful little girl should have been. Some will know what is missing.  Most will not.  I will always know. I will always miss you.  It will always hurt.

All I can do now is hope that wherever you are, you are at peace.  You are happy.  You are free.  You are flying with the angels.  I hope your wings are sparkly!  I hope you can feel the love we hold in our hearts for you here.  We can feel the love you send us. Keep it coming!  

You always wanted to fly high in the sky…

Happy 10th Angelversary my sweet baby girl.  May your wings help you soar high and free.  

Kiss.

Hug.

Snuggle.

Love,

Mommy

Who wants my shoes?

It's that day again.  The first day of school!  I don't know about your house, but it was a first day of school miracle here.  With two boys, one in 6th grade and one in 10th, the fact they woke up ON THEIR OWN, were not only downstairs and ready before they had to be (with everything they needed, even), but ate breakfast and got out the door on time, without nagging, left me both flabbergasted and tickled pink at the same time.  It made the hassle of shopping, organizing and trying to get them to participate in preparation quite rewarding at 6:30 this am.  If only it could last all the school year...

Speaking of pink, this day is never an easy one.   As I watched my youngest head off to the bus stop, so independent and SO excited to be in middle school, I couldn't help but wonder, as I always do on the first day of school, what it would've been like if his twin sister was racing him to the bus stop.  That's the way it was supposed to be, you know.  With her pretty new back to school dress and platinum blonde hair in a ponytail with a pink bow.  Giggling as they shared yet another exciting adventure together.  I was supposed to be back to school shopping for girly things.  The clothes, the shoes, the backpack, the school accessories, the dance or gymnastic outfits.  We were supposed to get our toes painted together and get her hair cut.  I was supposed to hug my three babies and send them off for another year to learn and grown.  She was supposed to come home with her brother, telling me all about her middle school adventures and what sports or clubs she wanted to try out for or join.  I was supposed to get a hug and kiss from my twins, my son and my daughter.

Instead, my boys got on the bus and I drove to the cemetery.  To visit my daughter's grave.  There is pink there, among the trinkets and tributes left for her.  There is no backpack.  No new shoes.  No pretty new clothes.  No pink hair pretties. Dreams of watching her dance and jump and play died nearly 9 years ago when she did.  I sat there.  I stared at her headstone.  I felt guilty I've neglected the flowers the past few weeks and they've died in the heat.  I saw the resilient roses on the rose bush and smiled.  There will be pink!  She always was persistent...

I felt a heaviness in my heart.  I asked, to no one in particular, why?  Why was I robbed of the joy of raising a daughter?  Why were my boys robbed of their sister?  Why was it MY little girl and not yours? Why do I have to wear these shoes?  They are ugly and tight and they hurt like hell.  I will never, ever be able to get them off.  When everyone is posting back to school photos and complaining about something or other, I am sitting at my daughter's grave site.  Alone.  Alone with my sadness.  My guilt.  The pain of what could have been but will never be.  I won't ever get another hug from her.  I'll never run my hands through her silky hair. We won't ever giggle over the power of pixie dust.  I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, walking further away from the last time I held her.  Heard her voice.  Smelled her scent.  Snuggled her.

I sigh.  Tears spring to my eyes.  For some reason, I'm always surprised by how easy it is, if I let myself just stop for a moment, to feel the pain.  As years go by, you get good at keeping it under the surface so you can function and live life.  Yet it's always there.  Just like those shoes.  They seem to pinch a lot harder on these trigger days.  Perhaps it's because on these days, the pain of her loss swells, making the walk that much more painful.

I'd give anything to give away my shoes.  The truth is, none of you want them.  I don't blame you.  The trade is not a fair one.  It's not even one I'd wish upon my greatest enemy (if I had one).  It's my path to walk.  I accept it.  I have no choice.  That doesn't mean I don't feel the pinch of my too tight, ugly and permanent shoes.  It doesn't mean I don't want to give them away.

It just means I want you to remember, I'm not alone.  There are thousands of other parents who wear this style of shoe and who feel this pain.  They may not say anything about it, but they may be cranky.  They may not call you back.  They may cut you off in traffic.  They may yell or overreact.  It's because they are hurting. Please remember them.  Me.  Us.  We have many days like this every year.

So please, don't make fun of our shoes.  Walk with us in them.  Just for a moment.  You are lucky.  You can always take them off...

Insight into grief

I've inadvertently created an experiment of sorts, the results of which thus far are quite interesting.

In an effort to exercise some due diligence for the book I am writing on coping with the death of a child, I reached out to two distinct groups of people, asking them to share their experiences with me.  My ultimate goal is to help parents and those close to them along their journey, in part, through sharing the collective experiences of those who have been through it already.

One group is my own family and close friends.  I sent an email, explaining the purpose of my inquiry and even questions that I'd love for them to answer, although anything they felt like sharing was welcome.  I wanted to know what their experience of Meghan's death was like, from their perspective.  Not only for me, but for others who might benefit.  I know what MY experience is and I have a vague recollection of some things my family and friends said and did, but I never asked nor never knew how they found out, what they thought, felt or said or how it truly impacted them.  Then and now.  I don't remember everything.  There were about 30 people on that list.  I have gotten exactly two responses back.  They were not the ones I thought would be the first to reply. Two others have asked if we can have a conversation/audio recording instead of them writing a reply and we are arranging for that.  Two others have said they would 'work on it', but I've heard nothing else as of yet.

No one else has even acknowledged the email.  That hurts.  A lot. I'd appreciate an "I'd love to answer but I can't until x day" or "I'd really like to, but I'm not sure I can, can I only answer some of the questions?" Really, any response would be nice.  Maybe a "Hey, I think it's great you are doing this for other parents.  I'd love to help, but it's hard for me..."

I get that I'm asking them to go back and re-live what was a very difficult and painful experience for them.  I get that it's hard.  I get that it's sad.  I get that people are busy and would rather scrub their house with a toothbrush and pull out their hair strand by strand than answer my questions.  That said, try being me.  I have no choice.  MY CHILD DIED.  Try living with that every day.  If you think it's hard for you, guess what, it's exponentially harder for me.  I think of her every day.  Every.  Single.  Day.  I drive by that funeral home every day.  I live my life without her.  Every day.  Give up your damn TV show and do something for the greater good for Meghan's sake!  I'm sure at least some of them are impacted by her death to this day pretty significantly.  Not everyone left my house, the wake or the funeral and completely forgot she existed.  My pain does not cease to exist.  I'm sure I"m not the only one.

Why are we so bad at death, grief and talking about it?!

I'm finding it hard to not be frustrated and hurt by the lack of response from my own circle of friends and family.  I hesitated to even write this rant.  Then again, I've always prided myself on being truthful, transparent and authentic.  We all make our choices in life.  I just hope we also all realize how they impact others.  I can't help how I feel.  Even if I understand the reasoning they might be using.

In sharp contrast, the other group I reached out to was other bereaved parents.  I sent a personal email to the other bereaved parents I know personally. To date, I have received but one reply, from a mom who wants to answer but can't go there yet. I get that and appreciate her saying so.   These are people who know me personally in some capacity.  I guess the personal attachment part somehow makes this harder?

I also posted a request on Meghan's Facebook Page.  I simply asked if other bereaved parents would message me privately so I could ask them a question.  I had over 50 replies in 12 hours!  Most of them were more than willing to answer my questions and about 15 of them did so within a matter of days.  They opened their hearts and shared their children, their pain and their experiences with me, so that I could share them with others.  The answers are quite similar in terms of what the helpful things people said and did were and what the very non-helpful things were.  I have been deeply touched by their transparency and am filled with gratitude that these total strangers have opened up to me about something so personal and painful.  Some of their family members shared their experiences, too.

Why did I get so many more replies from bereaved parents I didn't know?  Because no one ever asks them about their feelings or their experiences!  Because they want to share their child's life, death and story.  They want people to know about their child and how that child impacted their lives.  Because I wanted to hear it. I listened.  With all my heart.  I shed tears. I replied to every single one of them.  And again when they send their narrative back to me.  Because it matters.  Greatly.  I asked their names and they told me.

I suppose it really isn't all that surprising, although I'd be lying if I said I'm not a wee bit frustrated.  Parents who have been there get it.  We share a collective pain.  A collective grief.  A knowing.  We all know how much we needed to know what others felt, said and did when they were first in our shoes.  We want our children and our grief acknowledged.  Every day.  We want to provide that which we could not find when we were thrown down this awful path.  We wanted our family and friends to read something that gave them comfort, advice and information from actual bereaved parents so they would know what to say and what not to say.  So they would know what we really needed.  So they could hear from other siblings, grandparents, spouses and friends of their experiences, so they'd know they were not alone in their experiences.

Now I know why those books are so hard to find.  People are so reluctant to share.  Why?

I hope I can change that.  I can't do it alone.

I'm certainly learning quite a bit on this journey.  I do hope more people find the time and the courage to dive into their own pain and share their experiences with me. If we bereaved parents have to do this every day, they can surely do it for one day.  It is instrumental in my healing but more importantly, it will be so helpful to others walking this same road.

Thanks for listening.

What Mother's Day means to me

Happy Mother's Day to all you mommies!  I hope you had a wonderful day.  My thoughts are especially with those who are missing their own mothers today and those who are missing their children today, especially those who have left this earthly plane.

So, it's 3:49 pm.  I just got home from a double header soccer game for my youngest.  I left the house at 8:45 am, barely, after a late night out (wicked fun!) and running around like a crazy person this morning to get everything organized for half the day on a soccer field.  He gave me a big hug when he got up and wished me a happy mother's day.  He made me a card and taped a dollar in it.  "For chocolate, mom!"  Love that kid... We stopped for lunch on the way home because he was starving and, well, it's mother's day, so I don't cook.  I got a red carnation from the Chili's!  How nice.  He scored a goal today and his team clinched the championship of their division today.  The sun even came out. There were heart clouds, fleeting, but there!

I came home to the house in the same holy mess it was left in since yesterday.  Granted, my husband took my eldest son to his soccer game this morning, but he had a later start.  They were both still in bed when I left.  I had high hopes that I'd arrive home to a clean kitchen at the very least.  Nope.  Not even close.  I thought, perhaps, the bed would be made, as it usually is.  Nope.  Clearly, he got up in barely enough time to get his ass out the door with my son at 11:30 for his game.  No forethought to what might be a nice treat for me when I returned.  Apparently, previous discussions about these things were forgotten.  *sigh*

Part of me is pissed.  It's flipping Mother's day.  Do my GD housework for me!  Do what makes ME happy, even it if inconveniences you.  Get out of bed early for me.  It's not about how tired you are.  I was tired, too.  But I'm mom.  I have no choice.  I can't sleep until the last minute and waltz out the door.  No one offered to take the early soccer shift for me today.  This family would cease to function if it were not for me.  Wish me a happy mother's day before I walk out the door or send me a text, email or post it on Facebook.  Acknowledge the day to me.  No, I'm not HIS mother, but part of his job as step-father is making sure "my" day is about me and not about him or them.  Right?

I know he will do it eventually. I know he intends to do all of those things.  He just forgets that it means more to me to do it on my timetable instead of his.  I just really didn't want to come home to it not yet done. It only adds stress to an already difficult day.

Ok.  Rant over. There. See.  I'm not all sweet and earthy crunchy lovey all the time. I do have a bitchy human side, too.  :-)

So, now that my rant is over, I stop and think.  I'm near tears.  Why?  What is my frustration and anger really about?  I know better than to have the expectations I did.  It only sets me up for disappointment. It's not his fault for not thinking of me, my wants and needs even if only for this day.  Or even if it is, the truth is it's my fault for not spelling out what I wanted or needed and when.  For having the expectation he'd 'get it' and remember it.  It's a common tale.  I have no one to blame but myself.  Knowing he WILL do those things at some point today makes me feel badly that I allow myself to get upset about it not being done my way in the first place.  He's so good to me and the boys, so thoughtful and loving, what right do I have to complain?

Of course, it runs deeper than the fact my house was not cleaned when I return.  It's mother's day.  A harsh and sharp reminder that I failed motherhood 101.  I failed to keep all of my healthy children alive.  It's grief, pure and simple.  Manifesting as irritation and frustration at stupid little things. Meghan is dead.  You all know the story.  You all know the guilt I carry with me and don't for a second bother to tell me I shouldn't feel the way I do.  I do.  It's my burden to bear.  I'm simply sharing how I feel.  I'm not the only one.  Any mother who has lost their child will likely tell you they feel the same way.

On a day when mothers everywhere look forward to being pampered, thanked and acknowledged for the hard work of mothering, a day when they spend the day with their children, the stark absence of one of my children in my life on this particular day makes the pain of the fact Meghan is not here with me all the more sharp.  It's like salt in the wound.  A trigger day that you might not expect would be a trigger day.

Add to it the fact I'm thinking of the fact my mother and aunt and uncle are celebrating their first mother's day without their mother, who died just a week ago.  It hits home with the realization someday my mother, too, will be gone.  That I can't celebrate with her either, in person, because they live in Florida.  We chatted this morning though, before I left for soccer.

I spent all morning being 'on' for my son, Meg's twin, at his soccer game.  He played great.  His team played great.  I enjoyed hanging out with the other soccer moms and dads.  They know about Meghan, but they have no idea the pain I was in, the tears I held back, the nerve all those little girls hit for me today.  The fact she should have been there, too.  It's just...it hurts.

I'm now home.  Exhausted and fighting tears.  I just want to crawl into a hole and sulk.  I want to be alone.  I don't want to deal with the mundane things of the day.  The pain of her loss hits hard now.  It was an undercurrent all day, a subconscious presence.  Now, I sit with the silence of her absence.  I miss her.  Perhaps a bit more than most other days.  On a day when I'm supposed to be celebrated by ALL my children, there is one huge void. I long to hear her voice.  Stroke her silky hair. Snuggle up and read a book.  Dance and be silly.  Watch her and her brothers do whatever they might be doing if she were still here.  I am gazing out my window at the cherry tree losing it's blossoms in the wind.  She would have loved it.  Her brother is out there loving watching the petals fall.  He loves that tree.  It reminds him of her.

Soon my eldest and my husband, his step-father, will be home from his soccer game.  He will clean the kitchen. He will make the bed. He will rally the children. He will love me and acknowledge the pain of my loss.  We will go out for dinner.

It's a double-edged sword.  I want to go.  I don't want to go.  I will go and I'm sure I will enjoy it.  I will feel guilty for all I said earlier in the post, and then again, I won't.

I am a bereaved mom.  All I want on mother's day is what any mother wants.  To be appreciated for all that she is and all that she does.  To spend the day with her children making it all about her.  I don't ever get to have that.  Ever.  Because I no longer have all of my children with me on this earth.  Nothing will ever change that.  Of course I love my boys, even the one who doesn't acknowledge mother's day without serious prompting and the threat of not feeding him.  It's just not the same.  It's not what I want.  It's not what I imagined Mother's Day would ever be.  Yet it is what Mother's day is and always will be for me.

~ 4 hours later~

My writing was interrupted by the return of my eldest and my husband.  As I predicted, my husband showered me with love.  He acknowledged the day is difficult for me.  He cleaned the kitchen and did the laundry.  He gave me a music CD of one of my favorite artists, Michael Buble (he sings only to and for me, you know).  :-)  He arranged to take us out for dinner.  My eldest made me a card in his silly way with a hand made gift certificate.  It made me laugh.  We went out for dinner.  We had fun.  We laughed.  We ate.  There may have been a chocolate martini.  There will be cake for breakfast tomorrow.

I came home and sat in the hot tub.  Alone!  I am now, still exhausted, still missing Meghan, but grateful for my boys and my husband.  They make the pain of this day much easier to bear.  They love me.  They really do. Heaven knows I love them all the way to the end of the Universe and back.

Sometimes it's not just about what you've lost.  It's about what you have, what you have learned, and what you have gained from that loss.  This day will never be easy.  It will never hold the joy it fully should for me, but I am still a mommy to three.  And hey, how many people get to mother a spirit daughter and her two earth bound crazy brothers?  :-)

Talk about having your hands full!

One version of the Mommy gym

Another, more fun version of the mommy gym

A is for Angels

A.  I must resist the urge to recite from one of my favorite Dr. Seuss books, "Big A, little A, what begins with A?" Come on, admit it, you did the same thing, right?

Today's inaugural post in the A to Z metaphysical challenge is about angels.  What better "A" word could their be in the realm of spirit?

Interestingly, the concept of angels seems to evoke a range of emotion and belief.  There are those that simply don't believe in angels at all.  There are others who believe they exist but on a plane that we cannot access.  Some believe they are beautiful, loving and good.  Some see them and talk to them.  Some receive and give message from them.  Some believe our deceased loved ones become angels.  Others believe if you claim to 'talk' to them, hear or see them, you are lying, crazy or delusional or perhaps even evil.

Angel comes from the Greek word aggelos, which means messenger.  There are many mentions of angels in the Bible and of their creation. To attempt to engage in a comprehensive discussion would result in a novel of my own.  Thus, I offer a definition and a tidbit of personal experience as food for thought.

By definition, according to dictionary.com

an·gel

  [eyn-juhl] 

noun

1.

one of a class of spiritual beings; a celestial attendant of God. In medieval angelology, angels constituted the lowest of the nine celestial orders (seraphim, cherubim, thrones, dominations, ordominions, virtues, powers, principalities or princedoms, archangels, and angels).

2.

a conventional representation of such a being, in human form, with wings, usually in white robes.

3.

a messenger, especially of God.

4.

a person who performs a mission of God or acts as if sent by God: an angel of mercy.

5.

a person having qualities generally attributed to an angel, as beauty, purity, or kindliness.

6.

a person whose actions and thoughts are consistently virtuous.

7.

an attendant or guardian spirit.

8.

a deceased person whose soul is regarded as having been accepted into heaven.

9.

a person who provides financial backing for some undertaking, as a play, political campaign, orbusiness venture: A group of angels entered the mix, providing George the leverage he needed to take thestartup company in a new direction. Angels seek deals that they can exit in less than a decade.

10.

an English gold coin issued from 1470 to 1634, varying in value from 6s. 8d. to 10s. and bearing on itsobverse a figure of the archangel Michael killing a dragon.

11.

Slang. an image on a radar screen caused by a low-flying object, as a bird.

What is your concept of an angel?  Have you ever had an experience with one?  Do you fall into the group of people who believe or people who do not? Maybe you just are not sure?  It doesn't matter really, you believe what you believe and that's OK, because it resonates with you.

I have had personal experience with angels.  Probably many times without acknowledging it, especially as a child.  My most profound experience was the day Meghan died.  It was not an experience I asked for, was looking for or even ever wanted, even when in the middle of it.  It was vivid, real and powerful.  Even a bit frightening, though not in a scary sense, just in a "holy s*it, did that really just happen!?" sense.

Are you skeptical of that?  If I hadn't experienced it myself, I wouldn't have believed me, either!  There was absolutely no mistake I had a conversation with two energetic beings, while outside of my physical body myself, that exuded love and light.  It was a telepathic and energetic conversation, not a verbal one.  I *knew* them yet I couldn't tell you who they were.  They were familiar.  I knew why they were there.  I received information, I reacted with human emotion but I *understood* on a soul level what was being said to me, what was happening and why.  I *had* to listen, even though the human part of me wanted to get back in my body and convince myself it was all a crazy dream.  It wasn't.  I know for a fact it wasn't.  It was a powerful experience that left me with both a sense of peace and understanding as much as it left me feeling confused, angry on some level and doubting the entire experience.  It sent me on a spiritual journey of growth and self-discovery that has led me to this moment in time.

My personal belief is that there are angels in the spirit realm.  They are not 'people'.  They are not our deceased loved ones.  Any reference I make to Meghan being an angel is not a literal one.  It is more an appealing to conventional beliefs one.  She is not a true angel.  She is simply a spirit being now.

Angels exude an energy of purity, love and light.  That doesn't mean they always have 'good' news for you.  It just means their purpose is to guide you toward your greatest good, your life's purpose.  To remind you why you are living this earthly life and what your lessons are or could be. You must ask for their guidance, they don't  force things upon you.  You must listen for and to the answer.  You can choose to ignore it, follow the guidance or something in between.  They are not judgmental.  They are messengers of spirit.  Guides along the path of enlightenment.  They encourage you to reject ego and listen to your inner wisdom, your higher self, your soul.  To do that which is right action.  The choice, is yours.

Do they have a negative counterpart?  Sure.  There is balance to everything.  I'm sure there exist 'fallen angels' or those whose energy is lower, darker and lead us to listen to our ego rather than our higher selves and our heart.  Some would say the 'devil' energy. Satan.  You know, those folks who say it's Heaven or Hell.

We always have free will.  We can ask and choose what guidance we want, what we choose to receive and how we choose to use it or not.  We can choose to listen to the negative energy, to bring it into our lives and to put it out to the Universe.  It's not ideal or healthy, but it's a valid choice and many people choose it. Or we can choose love, light, positive energy and focus on the greater good.  Ah, being human has so many perks...

After being interested in understanding the angels and archangels for quite some time, I've been strongly guided that now is the time to follow that calling. I don't know why now is the time, but it is. I've been nurturing my relationship with spirit and the angelic realm.  I am called to using oracle cards as a divination tool.  Both to learn about the angels and to ask for their guidance in my journey in this life.  I've dabbled in playing with the angel cards for years.  I suddenly and quite unexpectedly found myself taking two courses in Angel Oracle and Angel Tarot card reading in the past few weeks.  Completely spontaneously and with great passion.  It was time.  It literally just happened.  I was guided to do it and I did.  Without hesitation.  It feels like the right thing to do.  It didn't  before.  It absolutely does now.  It always fascinates me when that happens.  It's meant to be a tool to share with others.  A way to advance my life's purpose. To be my best self.

I am still learning about the angels and all they have to offer us through their lessons and messages.  I am growing confidence. I am guided to leave this post with a reading.  I ask, what do the angels want my readers to know?

I chose Doreen Virtues Angel Therapy Deck.  The card I drew is called "God Box".

This comes up often.  I think it is something everyone can and should do regardless of personal spiritual or religious belief.  It is a lesson in awareness.  Of letting go.  Of recognizing that which is not serving you for your greater good.

The message is to put your worries and fears in a safe place and let them go.  Ask for help from God or whatever higher power you believe in.  Write them down, make a list and then place it in a special box, burn the list, bury it, place it in  the freezer or otherwise symbolically dissolve those worries and fears away.

Replace them instead with positive affirmations.  What you do want to bring into your life?  What or whom are your prayers for? Focus on manifesting what you want, not what you are afraid of or do not want.  Let go and let love.

Namaste.