Month: September 2016

The Frequencies of Love 

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On Monday night I layed in bed, arms open, heart open, with grief running down my cheeks. Eric sat next to me trying to do what partners do best – listen. He listened and listened until there were no tears left to cry out. 


October is 2 days away. It’s always hard for me to celebrate my life when there is such a huge chunk of it missing. But this year instead of struggling through the month, I’ve been suckered into a party. 

Growing up, I remember looking forward to my birthday. It was the best time. My father and mother knew that I LOVED parties. I loved the cake face mashing (which happened every time!). I remember seeing all our friends and family and being bombarded with kisses and hugs. 


But that joy was taken from birthdays. The past two have felt incomplete. Full of joy with my surviving children, but always missing one. 


So while a party is far, far from what I would choose, I think it may be what I need. And like the electric frequencies, our grief for our beautiful baby girl will always be. Sometimes it will be good and sometimes it will be so painful I won’t want to get out of bed or I’ll cry until there are no tears to shed, but I will feel her love. 

So here is hoping that this October, my Emme frequencies burn hard. And I cry a lot; tears for a life lost but also tears of love and thankfulness for the love that will forever frequent my heart. 

Xoxo 

When Your Heart Skips a Beat

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When you love so deeply you share your boba

Yesterday was Nathan’s school orientation. He is officially starting Pre-School on Monday. My day was full of anxiety and I could not figure out what it was. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go to orientation. My eyes teared up about everything and I couldn’t keep myself from crying. But why? I had such a perfect day with the kids. We enjoyed our library filled morning, followed by Farmer’s Market shenanigans. And our ultimate favorite- boba drinking with some dancing. We napped snuggled up together and the kids ate dinner without any massive toddler breakdowns. And as the time approached for me to go- it happened. The big question kept atacking me and I answered it a thousand times. Over and over and each time the answer was different. And sometimes I couldn’t get through the answer.

The question is always the same. My answer- it always wavers.

How many children do you have? how many siblings does your child attending the school have? How many other children attend the school? …and then the hard part. What do I say? Do I say the truth? A version of the truth? People will feel bad. People will be uncomfortable.

And this is just the beginning of the questions and turmoil that goes on in my heart. It is not enough that I lost my daughter and that when most families go back to school with every child they have birthed, I am missing one. So instead of going back to school with three, I go back with two. The hole is left open. The waves come a little quicker. The scab begins to peel. img_1053

It’s always such a struggle with my heart, not because I am scared of the possible reactions but because I remember early on how much I always felt like I betrayed her with every answer. No answer was ever good enough. Every answer left me feeling unfulfilled. But after the meeting yesterday, I decided that no answer will ever be the right answer because what happened was wrong. My little family, we try our best every day to experience joy, after all, Eric and I have been blessed with two amazing children. But our lives will never be the same.

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I will proabably have anxiety about backto school nights for the rest of my life. And I can live with that. Grief is not a step to get through. It is something that a parent without their child will always experience. Sometimes it hurts so bad you can feel it in your bones, and other times it presents itself gently; leaving love and smiles behind. So as I walk in this coming Monday, with my first born’s hand nicely intertwined in mine, I will squeeze harder when tears want to flow down and love this moment for what it is because even though I don’t get to walk Emme into her class and have her run after me in fear that I will leave, I am blessed to do it with Nate and Elea.


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When Nothing Seems to go Right

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The week began with  an overwhelming Monday. I wish it would have been a broken cookie causing all the crying but this time it was Elea falling down some stairs. I was horrified and disappointed that (although I saw it happen and ran to try to catch her), I was unable to. I felt horrible. A bad mother. Yup. I even thought I was a bad mother. I don’t think it hurt that bad, but her look said it all: where were you, mama? I pull myself together and go grocery shopping (only because we won’t have anything to eat if I don’t), only to realize my wallet was left at home.

Exhale.

Inhale.

My face must have said it all (it took everything I had to hold back the tears), because the cashier very gently said it happened to everyone. Maybe. Probably. But it didn’t matter. I was falling apart and it was only 10 in the morning.

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The week continued with regular toddler and baby meltdowns, not enough of me to go around, limited showers, late work nights for papa and a very tired mama. I then told Eric, this CEO was coming close to turning in her two week notice. I was nearing my breaking point. I was contemplating stepping down from this gynormous-whopping-biggest BUT most rewarding job in the world. I sat at the table while the babes napped on Wednesday and I cried because I can’t. I can’t leave this job that is so ‘abusive’ because it is my favorite job. It is not a job, it is the only thing I am honestly passionate about; motherhood. I love a lot of things but I am not passionate about any of them as much as I am about my children and husband.

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On Thursday, Nate very calmly told me that he needed more attention from his mama. He wanted to have my undivided attention without it being shared, even it if was just for a little while. So as I walked to the car with yogurt in my hair, a baby crying to be released from her mamas arms, a little toddler sobbing because his sister squirted his yogurt, managed to lose his Walker’s (AT-ST: Star Wars) weapon, I, again, almost lost it. And as I was walking towards our house, a sweet older lady complimented the kids and proceeded to say “Honey, you having a good day?”, I responded, “it could be better” and she said, “oh, but everyday is a great day honey.” I smiled and walked on. Not until later when the kids were in bed and I snuggled with a blanket and a good book, did I realize the heaviness of her words. The truth.

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I know what it is to have bad days. I know what it is to have your world come to an end and struggle to breathe. So even on my worst days, they are the best. But I am also well aware that I am a human being. Hard days, hard weeks, they will happen. Mommy breakdowns are completely normal. Having moments of throwing in the towel are going to happen.  I get to do what I love every day. I get to start my day singing our good morning song and I get to end it singing their favorite songs.

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The week ended with warmth, love and Nate and I looking through Elea and Emme’s photo albums. Our hearts were full.

 

Xoxo

 

P.s.  This Monday was a great start to the week but the day ended with me almost burning down the house. The pan was ruined ( my favorite go-to) and dinner was a bust. But after we aired out the house, we all had a laugh about it. It could have been worst but I’ll take a burned dinner any Monday of the year 🙂

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