Maybe She Knew...

It's Christmas...and it is SO hard...so hard to stay positive and not let the sadness just swallow me whole...so hard to not be bitter and angry on such a happy holiday.  I'm trying to be thankful that I got to have a Christmas with her at all, because there are so many families out there who dont even get that...miscarriage, still birth, infant death...so horrible to even think about...and it's hard to think in such a crappy situation as this that it really could have been worse.  

Me and Jason were talking earlier, while we were waiting for Khaily to go to bed so that Santa could come.  We decided that she knew....because babies can still talk to the angels...and maybe she knew before we even got her, that her time would be so short.  Maybe that's why she was such a sweet smiling little human to every single person she met.  She knew she only had a short time to make an impact.  That's why she hugged me different that morning. That's why it happened when neither of us were there to see the horror. We like to think that her and God had a conversation before she came...and it went kinda this way...perhaps...

God: "It's time for you to go to Earth, but you are a special soul, so I will bring you back before the world can tarnish you...in exchange for this short life you will have, I will let you pick your parents yourself."
Khyri: "Look how happy that little girl is! Can I share her parents God? I just know that they will love me the best."
God: "Yes child, but knowing that you are coming back to Me soon you must make sure that you love them as much as they love you, hold them tightly, and be the sunshine in their lives, so that when I bring you back, they willl have only the most amazing memories of you, and you will impact many lives...they will be very devastated when I bring you home...make it worth it."
Khyri: "Okay, I promise, I will love them my very best."

And that's how Khyri picked us.

Things

I've noticed that the wierdest things make me want to cry...make the ache a little stronger...make my breath catch.  All the way down to whats in the pantry.  There are muffins that I bought shortly before it happened that I can't make...because I bought them for a quick breakfast that the kids could eat in the car...my birthday cake mix is still there, because my birthday was the day before her funeral and I can't bring myself to bake it...because it was meant for a happy day that ended up being so very sad...I haven't made an actual "meal" since it happened, because me and the girls used to eat together at the table every night (Jason doesn't get off work til late)...these little things are SO hard...there used to be a box fan in my window, but it fell and broke, and Khy started using it as her own personal trampoline.  I had to put this up to put up the Christmas tree, and I had to take a picture of it before I did.

I've referenced before a conversation my sister and I had about how she doesn't die all at once, but over time as little things start to change...the box fan was one of those things.  Holidays passing without her are some of those things.  Her smell fading out of her blanket is one of those things...even the last time I mopped the kitchen floor, erasing the last imprints of her little feet, was one of those things.  Today is a day when my heart hurts badly, as I think of all these "things."  Every day my little girl gets a little farther away, and as hard as I try to think of it as me getting closer, it's just not that easy.  Today is 11 weeks since her funeral.  77 days since I saw my baby's face.  Tomorrow is 10 weeks she's been gone...since I held her, or heard her voice...since I got hugs or kisses....since our family was whole...and it's all just hard.

Outside of Myself and also Still Mad

I have a lot on my mind today, on her ten week angelversary....
Last night me and Jason were talking, and I said some hateful things towards the person responsible for this nightmare...and he told me I was being evil...and at first I was mad, because how dare he tell me I'm in the wrong for feeling the way that I do?  I am MAD.  I am PISSED OFF every single day.  She should have been watching her, she promised me that the kids were NEVER outside alone....and now my baby's gone....
But
In this conversation, after saying the mean things that I did, Jason informed me that he has (supposedly) talked to someone close to her recently, and that she cries all the time and is heartbroken because she knows that we trusted her with our most precious treasures, and she failed.  Whether or not he said this to make me feel better is irrelevant.  As hard as it is to think outside of myself, outside of my own pain and grief and heartache, sometimes I lose sight that this didn't just happen to us...it happened to her too.  This does NOT excuse it and I will NEVER forgive her....but maybe I need to step outside of my selfish mean thoughts and realize that she has to live with this forever too.  It's not the same for her, she still has all of her kids and her family is intact and she doesn't know what it is to be the mom without the child, to come home every day knowing someone is missing, to have a gaping open wound in her life that will never heal...but she has guilt, she has sorrow, she has the knowledge that this IS on her...and I'm sure that that is far worse than I can imagine...I'm sure that just like she can't understand my pain, I can't understand hers either...again, still furious, no excuse, and I absolutely think that something needs to come of this...but...my thinking mean things isn't going to do anything more than hurt me more than I'm already hurting...and I really don't need anymore weight on my heart.

  I'm mad that she gets to see her kids every day and I don't, I'm mad that she couldn't take TEN SECONDS to usher the few kids she had that day inside before handling whatever was happening, I'm mad that she promised me over and over again that she never left them outside alone, and I'm going to be mad for a long time, probably on some level forever, because my little girl is GONE.  But at least I don't have the guilt of being at fault.  I have asked myself a million times, "why did I take them there?"  "how could I NOT see this coming?"  "why did I trust her?" "why didn't I just take her home with me that day to get the diapers?"  but never have I had to ask "why did I leave her outside?" or "why didn't I just take them all in?"  I could never handle having another mom's loss on my hands....so today I pray for her...as hard as it is...that somehow she can find peace in God....and that she can stay strong for her own kids...because just like Khaily still needs me, her kids still need her.

As much as I would like to wish her ill will, as much as I might say that I hope she hurts...I really don't want anything bad to happen to her, I'm just not that kind of person.  Theres a difference between being held accountable, and being tormented...she should be held accountable, but I wouldnt want her to be tormented...regardless of what happened that day, Khyri loved her...Khyri loved everyone...and I know that she cared for my kids...doesn't excuse the negligence, but I know...and I hope that she knows that I know...but I'm still mad.

Sunshine

Sunny days seem to hurt the most.  It was sunny the day she was born, and it was sunny the day she left.  Sunny days are usually the days I find myself remembering the most.  I look at all her "spots" in the house and I can see her spinning in the living room, waving as she ran out of the living room, I can hear her footsteps in the hallway, see her on the jungle gym swing in the playroom...I miss her.  I wonder what she'd look like now, I wonder what she'd sound like and what she'd have to say.  I wonder if there was anything the doctors could have done but didn't try.  I wonder if ten more minutes would have  made a difference.  I wonder all these things, all the time.  I wonder if she knows how much I love her.  I wonder if she knows that she is SO missed.  New Years is approaching, and I'm more afraid of it than I was of Christmas...and Christmas was really really hard.  New Years means 2015...it means her birthday is a few short months away, it means that another year is starting and she won't see any of it...she saw March-December of 2013, January-October of 2014, but she won't see any of 2015...it's the first year since 2012 that I will start the year without her....the first year since 2011 that she won't be living...the first year without having her at all and it hurts SO bad.

Khaily has asked me a lot lately if she can call Jesus. She wants to call and tell him to bring her back.  She doesn't understand that Heaven doesn't have a phone.  She thinks that sissy is on vacation or something....I wish so badly that I had that kind of a mind.  I wish that I could see past my own heartache and think of the beautiful places she goes now and all the things that she does.  I really wanted to keep her.  I really wanted to do things and go beautiful places with her here.  She never even got to play in the snow.  She was too little last year.  We did do a lot of fun things...I remember last summer when we went to the pool at a hotel up the road from our apartment.  I remember going to see the baby bears at Blast Off when they were here earlier this year.  I remember the 4th of July parades, the fair in Wyoming, her birthday party, going to see the lights at Christmas. Huddling together on the couch at New Years.  And I don't get to do any of it anymore.  And on the days when the sun is out, and it's reflecting off the snow and making everything look so happy....I just get sad.  Because my sunshine was taken away.

FroYo at Orange Leaf with Jen and the boys

Bowling at the Lincoln County Fair with Daddy

On the rides at the fair...with her Duck Dynasty Si duck

Fragments

It's 10:19PM.  Jason and Khaily are asleep.  I walk through my house, remembering life before we were so completely broken.  I stand outside her door and remember what her quick little baby breaths sounded like when she slept, I remember the panicky Mom feeling when I accidentally shut the door too hard and heard her move thinking I'd woken her up.  I remember her "tired" cry...when she'd wake in the night but not really, just enough to fuss and fall back to sleep...I remember laying in bed thinking, "pleaaaase just be a tired cry...don't wake up momma needs to sleep!" and then on the nights that it was a real cry, I remember dragging my butt out of bed, bringing her into the living room and snuggling on the couch, initially annoyed that I was awake, but after a few seconds of snuggling her it all melted away and I was so in love with that moment.  So in love with every chance I had to hold her.  I watched her grow so fast and change so much, that every moment was the only moment...and I'm glad for that...because now I have a million tiny "mommy moments" that will be mine and hers forever.  I remember when we'd take Khaily to school we would come home, I'd get her breakfast and she'd eat while I got ready for the day and then we'd go on whatever adventure we needed to kill the couple hours before we picked up Khaily.  I remember the couple of times that I had to take her to work with me for just a second, how I was secretly excited to show her off...she was so perfect and beautiful and such a happy baby.  I have a constant fear in the back of my mind that these moments are going to fade away.  Every once in a while I get a calm feeling, a glimmer of hope that maybe I will survive this without going completely nuts, and just as quickly as it comes its gone.  I feel like I'm losing my mind a lot of times.  I'll see a shadow out of the corner of my eye, or a reflection in the window, or hear a noise and my heart will drop and I'll look for her, knowing logically that she's not here.  I just miss her. So much, all the time, with every breath, and it's completely out of my control.  All the tiny fragments of time that we call "memories" aren't enough to fill the hole.  They're just fragments.

Breakdown

Today was an epic breakdown day.  I cry every single day, but today was like the day after it happened...I woke up crying and didn't stop.  I called my dearest best friend Jen because...well because she's Jen.  We talked for two hours.  I told her all my fears and all my frustrations at God and at the situation and all the unfairness...and she put it to me in a way that I haven't thought of before.  She said, "when a kid gets mad at their parents, the parents don't take it to heart...they understand that the kid is just frustrated and having a hard time, but the love is still there and they won't be mad forever."  I know that God is the Father, but today is the first time that I've looked at Him from a parental state of view...I know that we aren't supposed to look at God as a human, but He is the Father  after all, right?  I'd like to think that it's like when Khaily gets mad at me...that He doesn't take it to heart and that he understands that I'm in a really really hard spot...and loves me anyway...that my spiritual temper tantrum right now isn't going to doom me to damnation later...that it's okay to be angry and confused and upset, because at the end of the day God still loves me.  That just like I don't do things to hurt Khaily even though sometimes that's the outcome, God didn't do this to hurt me, it's just an unfortunate outcome...someday I hope that I can see in color again, and stop being so mad. Until then...I think God loves me anyway.

A Special Assignment

Those beautiful baby blues...how badly I miss those eyes </3

I think that mothers of child loss are a completely different kind of people...
I mentioned a few posts back about how I imagine Khyri's conversation with God went before she came to Earth.  Today while talking to Jen she mentioned that we all have conversations with God before we come to Earth.  And that we all knew, those of us who have been here, that we would someday be here, and that we accepted it, because it was what God had planned for us, and being angels of perfect faith we trusted that, even though we were going to have this gaping open wound and this unspeakable heartache forever, it would be okay somehow because God told us so.  Because this was the plan.  We were chosen, assigned even, to be mothers to angels.  We were given the task of surviving this loss because God said so, and He made us strong enough to make it.  All of this sounds a little crazy to me right now honestly, with it being so fresh and all the internal battles going on as it is, but it's a beautiful thought isn't it?  That somewhere, sometime, in a life that we don't remember, we knew that this would happen, and we accepted it, because we wanted our babies no matter how long we got to keep them for.  I know with every fiber in me, that even if I had known that this was going to happen, I would NEVER give back the 19 months, 4 days, and 1 hour that I got with my Khyri.  Not for anything in the world.  Because she was an amazing gift, she was perfect, she was beautiful inside and out...and for that I am forever changed, and forever greatful.  I wish that I could bring her back so badly, every single day.  I miss her so much that it hurts to breathe most of the time.  But knowing the outcome I would go through it all again just to have her for the time I did.  I am heartbroken for her missing future, and for mine with her.  I am devastated that she isn't here and there's nothing I can do about it...but what a gift to have loved someone so much that missing them hurts so bad.  None of these thoughts make the hurt stop, none of them replace the chunk of my soul that is gone forever, but...if I was predestined to make it through this, if God chose this for me that who can stop me?  There's a light at the end of the tunnel....and even if the light is 40 years away and surrounded by pearly gates, it's still a light....

The Island of Misfit Toys

I have been incredibly selfish since everything happened.  One of the first things I got selfish with....her toys.  Khaily went to my mom and dad's for a week after the funeral, because frankly I couldn't function enough to sustain myself let alone anyone else, and while she was gone I would sit in our front room and stare into the playroom.  I sat on the loveseat the day after the funeral and read Heaven Is For Real, and periodically I'd look up and stare into the playroom.  Not expecting to see her, but hating that I didn't.  There were nights when I would stand in the doorway, frozen.  Days when I'd look in and cry.  I knew that while Khaily was gone was my only chance to get the sentimentals out...the things forever marked by Khyri that I just didn't want anyone else to ever touch.  Khaily had asked me not to put sissy's toys in a box, so I had left them out...not wanting Khaily to be sad....it was just too much for her...but then she was in Wyoming...so I seized what I knew was the only opportunity I would have.  The orange tote still sits in my front room.  Her unicorn pillowpet, her vibrating buzzy bug, various chewies from her tiny days, baby dolls, all the things that were hers and hers alone...there is a lot more in their, but as any mother of multiple kids knows, eventually everything blurs together and you don't remember what belongs to who.  Khaily still hasn't noticed, and that's okay...there's something very final about boxing a baby's toys.  Something that says, "I'm not coming home, I'm gone and now these things that were once a neuscence are special and unique and will never be anyone else's...these are my toys, and I am your baby, and since I will never have these again neither will anyone else."  Occasionally I open the box, just to look and remember.  There are toys that didn't fit in the box, like her ride-on dog that aunt Britt got her for her birthday, or her activity block from grandma last Christmas...these things are still in the playroom, but remain untouched.  The piano that was Khaily's when she was one is still smeared with chocolate from Khy's messy fingers, this piano is responsible for Khyri's first supported steps...she pushed it all over the living room.  The toy room has special significance to me now...she was happy there, she played there, her and Khaily would both sit on Khaily's Tinkerbell couch and watch movies in there...it's the one place I could send them when I needed a break and know that they would be entertained and their feelings wouldn't be hurt for being sent off....some nights I go in there and sit in the dark...just thinking about her laugh, her smile, which toys she snuggled with.  I look at the fingerprints on the front of the gaurd of the fireplace (fireplace NOT connected to propane, not hooked up at all, totally non-functional or it wouldnt have been the playroom.)  I look at the "Ks" that me and Jason so carefully decorated while I was pregnant...they hung on the girls' wall in our old apartment and now stand on the shelf in the playroom....some of the decorations have fallen off, but still the significance remains...2 K's...2 kids...2 sisters...2 babies...Khaily and Khyri...I will never ever take down the second K...I will always have 2.

Screaming Silence

There are times when her absence is much louder than others.  Like at night, every night, with no distractions and no company cuz Jason and Khaily sleep, I'm more aware of it.  During the day there are distractions, focal points, things to keep my mind busy, but even then it's always there.  It's seeing the scribble art on the wall near my desk at work, it's seeing her pictures and knowing that they are just pictures, that the sparkle in those eyes is gone and the life in those hands has been drained.  I've been to the hospital twice this week for pretty bad gall attacks, and being in that ER is the worst.  At the ER, just like at home, there are footprints that no one can see, chairs in the hallway that no one else can see, there's crying and screaming that no one else can hear.  There's a monitor in room 7 that once flatlined...and no one knows it but me.  Sitting in that hospital room, or in that hospital at all, is awful.  Because in the silence of room 12, or room 13 as it was tonight, I can still hear myself begging the doctors not to let her die.  I can hear myself sobbing in the family room across the hall, I can hear the doctors asking if they needed to rotate compressions...it's awful.  It's awful that this ever even happened.  It shouldn't have.  It could have been prevented.  From a religious stand point, God knows the number of our days, and appearantly her number was up and from that view it would have happened regardless, but from a maternal standpoint...the point of view that no one else understands, my baby should still be here.  She should be sleeping in the other room right now.  We should all be in our rooms, not living on the couches to get away from what once was normal.  She should be waking up right about now, wanting more milk or a snuggle.  But she's not here.  She's gone.  And the silence is so loud I feel as though I may go deaf.

2014 Forever

It's been a while since I've written.  There's been a ton going on and I just haven't had the "umph" or the time (or the give a dang frankly.) Sooo...I'll start with New Years.

New Years...well...it sucked.  I thought that Christmas was bad, but the moment that the clock struck midnight and it dawned on me that my baby had officially left "last year" was probably the hardest moment since the funeral...I went to the cemetary at midnight...I shut my eyes at 11:59 and when I opened them at 12:01 the floodgates opened too.  I know logically that the year changing doesn't mean she gets left behind, it's just a date...but it's the beginning of a year that she will never see.  At least she saw most of 2014 and most of 2013.  Which, I guess, is another reason it was so hard...she never saw a full calendar year.  She missed January and February in 2013 cuz she wasn't born yet, and she missed November and December in 2014.  It might not seem like a lot, but to me it's huge.  I spend hours every day as I'm going about my business thinking about all the things she didn't and won't get to do, and seeing a full year from start to end is just another thing.  This year, in two months, she would be two years old.  She would have gotten to ride her first horse this summer (not alone obviously,) she would have finally finished getting her teeth, she would have gotten her own room...all these things that would have happened, but they won't.  And it hurts.  New Years morning I went out again, threw glitter and confetti all over (sorry caretakers) and took her some balloons....which I didn't see there tonight, it suddenly occurs to me.

Next on the list...Spencer...our dear puppy...

Jason got us Spencer a couple weeks after the funeral.  I had asked him, "who do I snuggle now? Khaily won't let me.  I have nothing small to cuddle with anymore." So...he got Spencer.  Spence was an obnoxious, bouncy, noisy dog.  He drove me crazy...but he was always in my lap when I cried.  He slept on my feet as often as I allowed.  He was always SO excited to see us after work.  And Khaily adored him.

Spencer Raffetto....October 2, 2014- January 5, 2015.  Because appearantly God thinks Im pretty bad a--.  He had an internal bleed after an accident (wont go into details cuz it's really sad.)

Next...the move.
My parents have moved back to Idaho.  Me, Khaily, and my brother went to Wyoming last weekend to help out.  Good times...slick roads...TONS of stuff to do.  This was actually before everything happened with Spence, but he is on my mind a lot today.

Aaaaaand...Bella.

I did not (and still am having a hard time with) want another dog.  Not for a while at least.  Khaily, being small and innocent and not having a full understanding of loss the way that we do, wanted another dog instantly.  I told her no.  The next day, I'm sitting at work and get a text from a friend who is looking for a home for an abused puppy...oi vey...I was all geared up to say no thanks, but then she said "this puppy needs Khaily...." ....so we have Bella now.  She's a lab mutt but so lovey.  Very timid because of her experience, and barely old enough to be away from momma dog, but she's a snuggler...so I'll adapt...but honestly, I just miss Spencer.

The sketch.

My dear friend found someone to do a sketch for me.  Before Christmas she asked me to pick a photo.  I haven't been able to.  I did not know that this wonderful lady (idk if it's okay to share names, so I won't) had already started....and the end result is absolutely breathtaking...I actually told Jason last night that if all my other pictures disappeared I would be sad, but I'd be alright forever to just stare at this sketch.  It's amazing.  It is every bit of my baby girl.  I often lay awake at night and think of how she looked when she was sleeping...and the artist captured it perfectly.

Photo catch up!

Lit a candle at 11:53 and blew it out when it was gone...to carry her through to the New Year.

This has been cropped for my FB profile pic, but it's the sketch

Evolution of a sketch. Amazing.

My Mae and her Spencer...miss you boy :'(

Enough said.

Glitter, confetti, and balloons

Baby Dreams and Angel Kisses

I realized today that I spend an enormous amount of time looking at Khyri.  Yes, I know that that sounds crazy, no I do not care.  I look at her handprints on the mirrors and windows.  I look at her pictures (obviously.)  I watch her in the backseat of the car, I watch her sleep.  Not literally obviously, but I can see her there in my mind's eye always.  I can see her in a million ways, in  a million outfits, sleeping and awake, moving or staying still.  Sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind.  It's like I'm living in many worlds.  Not just the before and after, but also the here and there.  I live in the present, where most things in the world hurt, where someone is always missing, where I go through the motions because I have no other choice.  I live in a land of memories, where I can stare into her room and hear her breathing, where I can hear a song on the radio and see her dancing in her carseat, a world where I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of soft sleepy sobs that aren't there.  I live in a daydream demention, where I'm above the clouds, sitting on a swing watching her chase Spencer through the softest grass, rainbows dancing off of her smile.  It's hard to not believe that I'm going mad.  Sometimes it hurts to live so many places.  Sometimes I wish that I didn't.  I always wish that I had another choice.  I wish that she was here and the other dementions were non-existant.  I wish that I didn't have to daydream about my baby.  I just want her here.  I found a picture today of her sleeping...I had captioned it "baby dreams and angel kisses" and the irony almost dropped me to the floor.  I miss her.  I miss my baby girl.  I feel robbed and cheated....and I hate the worlds I live in.

When Noise Won't Do It

January 15, 2015
The most emotional things have always made me sob...screaming into a pillow, bawling uncontrollably, SOB.  I always thought during those times that that was the worst I could feel.  I sob over Khyri every once in a while...when it gets more overwhelming than usual, when the words just won't come, when the build up of emotions gets to be just a bit too much...I sob into her blankie, into my stuffed dog that the hospital staff gave me, into her ducky...and some nights, like tonight, I wish that I could.  I have found that the very worst most painful kind of crying is the crying you have to practice to get good at.  The crying without making a sound.  I have unfortunately mastered this.  I reserve it for the times when I can't hold it in and Khaily is near.  It happens in the car, or at night when we are all settling down.  It happens in the store, or when I'm dropping Khaily off at school.  It upsets her when I cry.  So I cry quietly.  Under the cover of darkness or sunglasses.  On top of being the "hidden" kind of cry, it's also the cry that comes when I look at pictures or watch videos, when I'm at her sleeping place or a song comes on the radio.  It's the tears that sneak up, when I feel the burn in my eyes and then all of a sudden my face and shirt are soaked with tears that I didn't mean to fall.  It's a cry that isn't intended to make a point or to be seen or heard.  It's the tears that sneak out of a momma's broken heart, creep up her throat, and slip out of her eyes.   It's a horrible sad cry.  When noise just won't do justice for the ache.

From Where You Are - Lifehouse // LYRICS

"I miss the years that were erased, I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face"

"Just know that wherever you are, I miss you, and I wish you were here."

Khaily Quotes

Khaily says things, and has said things since the accident...some comforting, some heartbreaking, some that make me very aware that Khy isn't really gone, some that make me feel like she's farther than I believe...I want to keep track of these little Khaily quotes, because they are so special.  I don't remember dates for most of them, but still...this list will keep building as I remember more (I have to flip back through Facebook to find them all) and as she says things...oh to have the innocence of a child...

A couple weeks after the funeral, I woke up one morning and Khaily said:
"Mommy, why was Khyri in your arms this morning?"

Driving back to my parents' from the fundraiser in Star Valley she said:
"Look at the clouds Mom and Dad can you see Khyri waving? Hurry wave back!"

She asks me all the time:
"Mommy can I call Jesus and ask him to bring her back now?"

"Mommy Khyris gonna come down with her angel wings and see us right?"

"Mommy you know Khyri and Spencer are always in our hearts right?"

"Mommy it's okay if we miss Khyri all the time."

Khaily: mommy wheres khyri
Mommy: in heaven
Khaily: but she's suppose to be here and live with us
Mommy: I know baby. Someday we will be with her again
Khaily: when we die in the water?
Mommy: no when we all get really old it will be our turn
Khaily: who will fly us up
Mommy: angels
Khaily: with their wings like khyris wings?

*khaily sees me crying*
Mommy y r u crying?
Cuz im sad
Cuz you miss khyri?
Yeah
Its ok mommy, you can feel her in my heart
*puts my hand on her heart*
She's in your heart too right Mommy?

October 24, 2014

October 24th, 2014...it was a Friday, like today.  There was a nip in the air. The sky was blue.  Vicki and Brie came over bright and early to help get Khaily ready, because I just couldn't.  Kami came and got pictures.  Black sweater, grey slacks, boots that I wished I had found months ago (finally comfy dress boots.)   9:35 I walked out my door to head to the home.  People filtered in.  I dont remember who was there, or how full it was, but I'm told that there was standing room only by the time it started.  You Are My Sunshine.  Borrowed Angels.  Homesick.  Pink, purple, green.  4 dozen red roses in the corner.  Seahorse.  Who You'd Be Today.  Seahorse.  She has her seahorse....she has her seahorse.....

Afterglows

January 18, 2015
I just read an article written by a mom who lost her daughter to a high driver ten years ago.  This article (i'll link it with this post) made me bawl and made me smile at the same time.  It's amazing how, despite how different every parent's loss is, they are all SO similar...she talks about making people uncomfortable, she talks about the friends that disappear, the anniversary dates that suck, happy occasions that are always fringed with tears.  It's really an amazing story I encourage everyone to read it.  Anyway, at the end of the article she references another reading where the author says that when we die we remain as afterglows in the minds of the ones who love us the most.  My girls have been the light of my life since Khaily was born.  Being a mom is my biggest blessing ever in the history of everything.  But, when I read that, I saw the Northern Lights in my mind, and I thought about the glowsticks that I have taken out every night since the funeral, and about the sparkle in her eyes and the light of her smile.  This kind of heartache takes all these beautiful things and, instead of a  "silver lining" effect, adds a fog around everything that once was so bright in our lives.  I spend countless hours reliving the good times, the hugs and snuggles, the carseat dances, the bathtime splashes...and while these things make me smile at her memory, a heartbroken tear is never far behind.  I never wanted memories.  I never wanted an afterglow.  I was supposed to be HER afterglow, not vice versa.  I think all the time about how amazing she would have grown  up to be...with as much love as she had already as a child, with her adventurous spirit and her perfect little heart of gold...with as much as she was at 19 months old, I can only imagine what she would have been at 19 years old.  It kills me to have to imagine it.  I wanted to see it.  I cry all the time, especially around this time of the month---today is three months she's been gone----and sometimes it feels like the tears are going to swallow me whole, that the grief is going to eat me alive and there will be nothing left.  I always look for the light at the end of the tunnel, and she is my light at the end of the tunnel.  And while that makes me acutely aware of how long the tunnel really is...statistically another 50-60 years long....it's so worth it...I just want to make her proud...in a sense I still am her afterglow, or at least I can be if I do it right.

Article: Dear Kate: Living with Grief

Shoes

January 20, 2015
Its absolutely soul shattering the way that grief works.  One moment it's quiet background noise, still there, but the breath isn't quite as heavy and the silence not as loud, and then the next you're back in the middle of the hurricane.  Today has been a day of many twisters...I woke up okay, and then I got a package from a very dear person in my world...in this package was a scrapbook...first I thought that the scrapbook was empty, because there was also an envelope full of pictures, I thought, "Oh how sweet a "busy" project."  And then I opened the scrapbook...it was filled from beginning to end...and it's the most beautiful thing...to know the love that was put into building it for me...so I cried, both at the memories contained in the pages, and at the love that I felt from it's maker.  Then, I was okay for a bit again...took Khaily to the dentist, did some light housework, and then I found out what my power bill is, and was back in the world of "WHY CANT EVERYTHING JUST STOP FOR A SECOND?!"  And then I was okay again...did laundry, straightened my hair.  Then, I walked into the playroom to find Khaily asleep on the floor, and as I walked out I passed our shoe box....and I paused....as I looked at the tiny shoes that will never again run through the grass, the boots that will never get to run through a field or ride a horse through a pasture, the sandals that still look brand new...the dress shoes that won't see another wedding...and it's the worst part of the day.  The tears flow so freely when I look at her things...there's things I look at every day that have become part of the routine, I still peek in her room every night, these things don't always bring tears anymore, but the little things that jump out of nowhere...like a sock under the drawers in the bathroom, or the tiny shoes in the shoebox...those things I think will break my heart til the day I die.  Her tiny shoes....baby size 6....oh what I would give to see her in size 7.....

Crumbs Under the Couch

January 22, 2015
We all know the spring cleaning ritual all too well. Under the furniture, in the cushions, wash the walls and baseboards....tedious but necessary. Those who haven't been here aren't going to understand this, but I did a very hard thing tonight...I moved my furniture and vacuumed under it. When your kids are here, it's just another house chore. You mumble under your breath about them knowing where the trash can is, or knowing where their toys belong, and you go about your day.  But when you lose one of your babies...every single thing becomes sacred...every bread crumb every Barbie shoe...when you lose a child you don't want to clean...you want everything to stay exactly as they left it, you don't want to lose the echo of them in the places they have been and the things they have touched. I moved one couch and found a toy gazelle she played with underneath. I started bawling.  I moved another couch and found (caution its gross) a piece of a black banana peel...no doubt dropped without a thought while she was watching out the window or something...she loved bananas...I found bits of candy, tootsie roll wrappers from the treats we shared only days before...this is one of the hardest things I have done so far.  I remembered the feeling I had when I picked up the house the day after it happened...so hollow and alone and guilty and scared to move anything from where she left it...I remember telling Jason that I didn't want to clean the couch cushions because her hidey trinkets were all that was left of the mess that our house was that morning...I think the first time for everything is the hardest, and then when it's over we get a personal victory dance after the guilt, and then we look around at whatever we just changed and realize that even though it's not where she left it, we still remember how and where she left it.....location is such a physical thing. I moved my couches tonight. And not a single memory disappeared with that banana peel.

Disappeared

January 24, 2015
Today is three months since her funeral.  On the "anniversary" days I usually sit quietly and think a lot.  One of the things that I've thought about is the people who have disappeared.  Or the ones who all of a sudden cared.  Both really.  People who I haven't talked to for years suddenly had something to say.  People who I have been close to for years were suddenly "unavailable" or speechless.  People who I had never met were bigger supports than people who I have known my whole life.  They say that tragedy brings out our true colors, and I find that hard to believe.  I know that some of the people who came around, while generally mortified by what happened, were just trying to look good so that they could say that they came over to check on us, I know that some who came by just had never known anyone who had been through such a thing and were curious.  I know that people don't know what to say.  I know that being around sad people makes us uncomfortable as human beings, because we are brought up to believe that crying means that something needs to be fixed, and when there's nothing we can do about it we change the subject, or we quietly leave the person crying to be alone because we think that's what they need.  We all know all these things.  They are taught to us from the time that we are young.  We know that people aren't always what they seem, that people feel the need to "look good" to everyone around them, that people leave, people change, and sadness makes people  uncomfortable...agreed?  What people DONT know, is that every day I PRAY that someone will bring her up.  Her name is my favorite thing to hear.  I love hearing stories about her, though there aren't many out there, they are my favorite stories.  I love it when people tell me that she crossed their mind. YES IM GOING TO CRY.  Part of my soul is missing for crying out loud.  But crying is my favorite thing.  And it's not all sad tears when someone brings her up, part of it is the RELIEF from hearing her name, because every time I hear it, it takes the weight of worrying about her being forgotten off of my heart.  And it's not about the attention, its about knowing that she's remembered, that people haven't forgotten her.  I've been thinking for the last little bit, that if so many people can go on with their lives and forget about me, who they've known for years, how easy it would be for them to forget about her...and that terrifies me.  I don't want her to be forgotten. Ever.

Change!

January 27, 2015
Ok so today I've been thinking about the "triggers."  The little things that are total tailspins, and the crazy things that I've changed to avoid those tailspins...because frankly, they SUCK.  The days where it hits like a ton of bricks are painful, but when the little things pop out it's a whole different story.  I thought that I would share some of the changes I've made in this "new normal"...some of them are weird, but hopefully another mama will feel less alone after reading my list.

Everything has changed, and really the last thing I want is MORE change, but with this huge change I have found that there have to be smaller changes to even get through the day, so here are some of mine.

The cemetery is right up the road from my work.  I make it a point to drive through in the morning and blow her a kiss, because when I stop and actually get out of the truck I'm usually late getting to my job because I don't want to leave.  I stop on the way home, when I can be there as long as I want.

I changed Khailys shampoo.  The girls used Aussie Kids' wacky watermelon, and the smell kills me.  Sometimes I'll put some (I still have what was left) in the palm of my hand, just a tiny bit, so that I can smell it when I want to.

I changed my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.  Smells in general are really a big thing...think about how many times you have gone somewhere and caught the slightest scent that brought back a million memories...that is my whole life now.  I went and bought Marshmallow Pumpkin Comfort body care line from B&BW like two weeks before it happened...it was my favorite smell and I used it every day...including THE day...I put some on yesterday and laid down in bed and cried for what felt like the whole day...I wasn't even thinking about it, I was just like, "oh i haven't worn this one in a while"...and there it was.  Awfulllll....so I switched body sprays too.

Rooms.  We haven't slept in our bedroom since I had surgery 4 days after the funeral.  We live on an air mattress in the living room now.  It is hard for me to be in my room without her in the next room.  I always stare at the wall remembering how it sounded to hear her call for me.

Daily routine.  I have always been a morning shower person.  It's refreshing and helps you wake up.  The last morning I showered was the "f" day.  I am a total pre-bed shower now.  I have found that the more changes I can make to my schedule, the less it feels like the world is just moving on like nothing happened.  Everything happened.  Everything's different.  And it's nice to feel that way sometimes...like everything changed when she left, because it makes my world match my emotions.  Schedule changes are crazy and chaotic and take a long time to adapt to, and internally that's a huge thing for me right now.

Laundry soap, hand soap, dryer sheets....my sister used the last of my "normal" smelling stuff when she washed all Khy's clothes...and I don't want anything except her clothes to smell that way anymore....HA more smells look at that....

Furniture.  I finally rearranged my living room the other day.  It was awful and I bawled my eyes out, but now it's comfortable.  It helped me to see that the memories are NOT the locations.  The memories aren't going to disappear if things get moved around.  Someone please remind me of this in a few months when we leave this house, because I already know how hard that's going to be.

I change things not because I want to forget her or avoid any of the things that I know I have to deal with, I change things because I have felt since the day it happened that the whole world needed to recognize the chaos.  I feel like moving and changing everything validates the chaos in my soul.  EVERYTHING is different.  It's my own way of acknowledging that everything has changed, and while I can't make the whole world recognize the change, I can make myself feel better by making the things around me match the tornado inside me.

My coffee.  Every day in October I got a peppermint white mocha.  Every day. And every day for a week after the "f" I would get up, go get a peppermint white mocha, and go to the cemetery.  It was my morning routine.  That memory is tied to that now.  It was "my drink" when things were normal.   Now I drink chocolate caramel or white chocolate raspberry. Or regular French vanilla.

My HAIR.  Yes, my hair.  I was feeling desperate for control after Christmas.  I dyed my hair purple.  Yes, purple.  Partially because it was her color, and partially because I wanted a drastic change.  Mission accomplished.  It's back to dark brown now, two weeks of minion purple hair was plenty.

There are a million other things that have changed.  I hate change.  I have had enough change in the last three months to last me a lifetime.  But it's comforting to have the outside world match my inside world.

Dear KhyKhy...I Miss You

January 27, 2015
Things are getting different.  Not better.  Never better.  Never the same.  Never back to "normal."  Most days are actually harder, now that the initial shock is starting to wear and the finality is setting in. Different.  I ache for you to be here with quiet desperation.  It hurts my heart when I have those flashing painful moments when reality sets in and I realize that you really aren't coming back.  My mind prefers to believe that you are here, but that you learned a cool new magic trick and can't figure out how to shut it off.  I feel you all around me most days.  I see you in your carseat rocking out when certain songs come on the radio.  I hear your seahorse when Khaily's game play similar toons.  I know it's you who always hides Daddy's hat.  Some things will never change I guess.  Today I woke up hurting.  Remembering how I used to get you out of your pack n play in the morning and bring you into our bed to wake up Daddy, because it always woke him up in a good mood...not that he didn't today, it was just on my mind.  I miss seeing you burrow yourself into our blankets.  You were so cute trying to run ur little legs across the pillowtop mattress.  I remembered how you always had a blankey, any blankey, with you.  My little Linus baby.  Nothing is the same without you.  Everything hurts all the time.  I wondered often in the earlier days what it was going to be like to have to go back to life without you...this is it.  It's awful.  I never wanted to "get used" to having a piece of me gone, but it's happening and Im not ready.  I'm not ready to live with the ache as a part of me.  I want it to stop, to wake up and have you here.  But I get up, every day, like I promised you I would.  I do what needs to be done, always aware that my chest hurts.  I watch the families in the stores with their kids.  I can always spot the ones around your age, and when I ask the parents how old, I'm usually pretty close to right.  I wrote you a letter and sent it with you, I hope that someone has read it to you.  I promised you that I would be okay, and I told you not to worry about me.  I meant it.  I will be ok.  I don't know when or how, but as this pain becomes more a part of me I will learn how to be okay, just as I have learned how to make it through a full work day, how to politely smile at the mom's at sissy's school, how to talk about you and hold the tears til I can let them out alone.  I just can't believe this is real.  I look at the pictures, and I watch the videos, I hold your toys and I fold your clothes, and I can't believe it's real.  I KNOW that it's real because everything has changed.  Everything.  THere's a density to the air in our home that was never here before.  There's a sadness every time your dad hugs me, and a new paranoia every time I hold your sister.  I just MISS YOU.  When there are no other words, those are the ones I use.  "I MISS HER."  Because it says everything.  I hope that you are proud.  I hope that you know that I am trying my very best to be strong. I am trying.  I love you so much more than I ever had time to show you.  I have never felt so out of place on Earth as I do now.  I see a quote all the time that says, "we are not humans having spiritual experiences, we are spiritual beings having human experiences."  And I gotta say...human is hard.  Human is SO hard. Emotions and worries and fears and doubts and unanswered questions and "reality" and "death" and all of it is just SO HARD.  I know that if you were here right now you would climb up on the bed and give me a hug, and pat my back, and look at me with those big eyes full of concern because crying wasn't your favorite thing...so I will try to make it stop...and I will try to get some rest...and I hope that I see you in my dreams...because I.Miss.You.
I love you to Heaven and beyond
Mommy

Nationwide Superbowl Ad

This ad...oh the words I would love to use...the ad that Nationwide Insurance aired during the superbowl was tasteless and inconsiderate to say the least. If ever there was a posterboard description of the gap between society and the grief-stricken this is it.  I have been in conversations with hundreds over the last 24 hours discussing this commercial.  One of the bloggers who I follow contacted Nationwide directly, and they stated that the ad was meant to raise awareness, which is great, PLEASE raise awareness that the world is a deathtrap, seriously, because it is, but DONT USE A "DEAD" KID TO DO IT.  This was not okay!  For those of you who haven't watched it or didn't see it, it is a little boy talking about how he will never learn to ride a bike, never get cooties, never get married, never learn to fly, because he died in an accident.  And then it goes on to depict a TV fallen over smashed on the floor, a chemical cupboard door left open with dishwasher tabs spilled......and a tub overflowing with water.  And the slogan is "Help us protect what matters most" or some crap like that...the nerve that has been struck by SO many moms and dads, myself included, is the implication that insurance prevents accidents.  ARE YOU FRICKIN KIDDING ME????  Khy could not have been saved by a piece of paper, and that's not even the purpose that insurance serves! Insurance is to replace lost things...which is another nerve...because even after childloss, the life insurance can't bring them back it's just money...no amount of money will ever bring back what was lost.  I personally am deeeeeply offended by this commercial.  The blogger that I mentioned before invited the CEO of Nationwide to the National Grief Convention, as an attempt to help bridge the gap between the griever and society, it's an issue of ignorance and lack of understanding. Ohh there really just aren't enough words to explain what's going on in my head.  I understand that if you haven't been in this position you won't udnerstand, but a little consideration...or even side thought...like seriously, how did you NOT know that using a "dead" kid as propaganda was going to infuriate millions of bereaved parents? OI VEY!

Zombie

January 30, 2015
I've been thinking a lot tonight about the days following the accident.  I don't remember chunks of it, which I'm told is normal, the mind's way of protecting itself, but there are pieces that I remember-though none of them really have a timeline or a real "shape" to them.  I remember watching a lot of TV...trying to focus on something other than the emptiness in our house.  I remember driving around with nowhere to go...just to be going somewhere.  I remember after the funeral, I laid on the couch and just stared at her picture for what felt like hours.  Khaily was at my brother's. I went back to the cemetery and arranged the flowers...the wind had knocked them over, so I removed the buds from the stems and put them in the dirt. Then I went to the bar, I just wanted a shot, just one.  So I had a shot. I went home and cried. A lot.  I stared into her bedroom. A few days later I decided to clean the playroom...in hindset it's better that I did it then in the fog of the shock, because even now it's so hard for me to go in there, even though Khaily still plays in there all the time obviously.  I went and got "Serenity, Courage, Wisdom" tattooed on the inside of my wrist, because we put the serenity prayer in her program.  I would muddle through the days, and drink at night---not to get drunk, I never got drunk, just to get enough of a buzz to fall asleep.  The week between the day it happened and the day of the funeral I cleaned a lot....I listened to sad songs a lot...I remember the day Jason's mom got here, we went to the cemetery to pick plots...and then we came back to the house and I cleaned, I didn't know what else to do. I cleaned. Then we went to the funeral home to discuss the order of the service.  Then I went with my parents to pick the flowers.  When I got home the local news crew came to do an interview.  I did a phone interview with the newspaper.  I remember thinking, "are these people dumb?  I understnad that it's newsworthy, but don't they know that I have enough to deal with this week?"  I remember when Jen got here, it was the 22nd, I had just left the dentist and she was waiting outside my house.  I let her take the caterpiller she had bought Khy in June when she came to visit.  Or maybe it was August?  I don't remember.  We went and got our nails done the next day...it was my birthday.  The day before my baby's funeral, was my birthday.  I hated it.  I didnt want it. Why should I get 24 when she only had 1?  I remember meeting with the pastor and begging for answers, he had none...and I knew that he wouldn't, but I had hoped.  See, he had gone through the same thing.  His son also drowned, when he was 17.  I was hoping that in the years since he would have gained some kind of holy knowledge, that he would have the answers that I so desperately need.  He didn't.  It was awful.  We left there and I went and bought a MercyMe CD.  Hoping to find answers. None there either.  I remember feeling like a zombie.  I still tell people that the only reason I'm here is because I don't believe in suicide and breathing is involuntary...I'm certain that is the only reason I made it through that week.  I remember the heavy air.  The density of change.  I remember being in the viewing room getting her dressed and literally having to hold on to my ribs because it hurt so bad...not just emotionally, but I physically felt like my chest was splitting.  I remember sitting on my bed arranging photos for the funeral.  I remember reminiscing over each photo...I'd shut my eyes and remember the exact moment of each of them.  I still do this a lot.  I sit and I think.  I look at her pictures and remember being in the studio the day that our family pictures were done, I remember taking selfies with her while I was waiting for it to be time to go to work. I remember when she was only days old, looking at her and Jason on the floor and just knowing I wanted to remember that moment forever.   I remember after the funeral, there was a night that I put the CD from her service in, and I blasted it...I didn't know where I was going....but I drove....I ended up out in Shelly....hit 65th and went to Hitt Rd, and remembered the last time I had driven down that road...It was the straightest shot between work and the hospital, I was speeding, there was a white car in front of me and I was SO thankful that he was speeding too....I got to the light and it was red, and even though my emergency flashers were on and I was laying on the horn no one would let me through...I remember sitting at that light trying to get to the hospital and having to tell myself out loud that I couldnt run the light, I couldnt run the light because then I'd be in the hospital too and wouldn't be able to be with her....everything is such a jumble in my head.  I am missing huge chunks of days.  I don't remember who came and who went, I don't remember who brought what, I don't remember the phone calls or who sent cards and who didnt...I just remember that I was feeling everything and nothing all at once...Now I have days where I feel everything, and everything is SO painful.  It's such an overload to feel everything, the rage, the despair, the pain, the tears, all at once.  And I have days where I feel nothing.  Literally.  I don't feel happy or sad, I don't feel mad or hungry or thirsty...nothing.  These days I think are worse than the days when I feel it all.  The days that I feel it all, I look at her pictures and I hear her and I feel her baby soft skin and I see her smiling and laughing and it rips my heart out and the tears fall so easily and so steadily usually for the whole day.  THe days where I feel nothing it's like I'm not really here, it's almost like I'm in someone elses house and I don't know anyone or anything here...I look at the pictures and know mentally that I miss her and that I"m sad and that I want her back, but I dont feel anything in my chest...it's almost like I'm a zombie.  I feel hollow and not human on those days.  It's horrible, because when the feeling does come back there's a horrible guilt that comes with it.  A guilt from knowing that even though I wasn't really "me" in those moments, I looked at her picture and touched her things and it almost felt like she was a dream.

And then there's days like today.  Days where I can't decide whether she's gone or not.  I know it sounds crazy, but there are nights when I can almost convince myself that she's in her bed sleeping.  I know logically, my brain knows that she's not really here. But my heart just knows that she's not dead.  She can't be dead.  It's not possible she's just a baby.  She's asleep in her room, this is the world's longest nightmare, and I'm going to wake up to her sleepy cry at any moment.  I just know it.  She can't be dead.  Babies don't die. There was no funeral, I didn't see her lying there under a towel every day for a week, I didn't do all the things I just talked about doing.  It didn't happen.  It couldn't have happened.  Not to me.  Not to her.  It's not real. It can't be real.  Because if it's real, then it's still going to be real in ten years, and thirty, and fifty, and that's not possible.  She's just a baby, her birthday is coming and she's going to be here for it right? She has to be here it's her BIRTHDAY.  It's not okay to not be here for your own birthday.  It's not real, and I'm not going crazy...right?

Baby No. 3

NO this is not a pregnancy announcment, not even a little bit.

Last year right after Khy's birthday, which is coming up next month, me and Jason decided that after her birthday this year we were going to try for #3.  He's approaching 40, the kids would all be two years apart, and then we'd be done.  My inner turmoil this week, is that....Jason is still approaching 40, and now with Khy's absence the kids would be 5 years apart (not saying that Khy doesn't count, but part of the process was that Khaily and Khy were close enough in age to have fun together, but far enough to not drive us bonkers.)  We have discussed getting my Nexplanon removed and switching to a more "in my control" birth control...it's really a jumbled mess.

A common issue among grieving parents is that losing a child opens up this whole pandoras box of thoughts and fears and issues that, while always there, have never been a thought at the very front of the mind.  Now we are freakishly aware that babies die too, that not everything is garunteed, that sometimes even your most vigilant efforts to keep your kids safe aren't enough.  THere's a paranoia about losing another baby that those who haven't been here wouldn't understand.  THEN, there's the fear of Khyri thinking she's being replaced...now, religiously I know that there is no fear or envy or hard feelings in heaven, and realistically Khyri probably has already helped God handpick her little brother (we wish) and is just waiting for us to decide it's okay.  I'm not worried about feeling like I'm replacing her...because I would never in a million years try to replace her...she's my baby girl...she's my momma's girl...she is Khyri...and there can never in a million years be another Khyri. To replace something means to discard the old...and she can't be discarded.  Whether she's here or there she's still my daughter.  Uniquely perfect and beautiful and 100% all her own individual.  So that's not an issue.  I just worry about how she feels.  I know that if she was here she'd be SO excited, she LOVED babies.

I've heard both sides...I've talked to moms who said they wished they'd waited longer, and I have talked to moms who said that there was a certain kind of healing that came from having another tiny human to take care of.  I personally think it would be helpful to us more than harmful for reasons that I myself do not completely understand.  I would be overjoyed to have something to focus on instead of only being able to focus on the ache and despair of Khy not being here.

My fear is that, being in this state of sorrow and despair, that the stress would be too much.  BUT on the other hand, I take freakishly good care of myself when I'm pregnant, so maybe it'd be just the push I need to force myself to RELAX and start sleeping normally and eating right and so on and so forth.

This particular post---like my last few---really has no "moral" or profound meaning...sometimes it just helps to get the thoughts in black and white...and feedback from those who have been here would sure be helpful...I feel like we don't have a lot of time to wait, cuz 40 in men leads to a whole new miriad of genetic possibilities, including down syndrome, which honestly isn't an issue for me, I work with special needs and I know that I would love that baby as much as any other baby in the world, but...I'd rather not risk putting my child through that life...becuase, like I said...I work in it, I've seen it, I know how miserable they are sometimes and it breaks my heart :'(

Oh....the dilemma of not wanting to move forward, but wanting so much to happen.  What a tangled mess this whole thing is.

Motivation

I have none.  At all.  Anywhere.  Especially now.  I seriously think that time off work is the worst idea ever on the planet.  Nothing good can come from having nothing to do except sit here and think about...the whole situation.  I think about her constantly, which is fine with me, but when I have the time to actually just sit and be inside my own head with no external focal point, it's not just her...it's the water...it's the hospital...it's the funeral....it's getting her dressed....it's all of the memories from October 18th on, not just the ones from before.  It's horrible.  I have redecorated my house, I have cleaned until my fingers bled, I have tried to have "me" time (translation: I went and got my eyebrows waxed for the first time since, and just FYI, I do NOT recommend a 4 month break between waxes EvEr...OW) I have completely cleaned every crack and crevase of the blazer, anything to stay busy.  And it's not working.  I hate this so badly.  The worst part, is that I'm okay with it.  I'm okay with not having any motivation.  I stare at my keyfab to the gym all day long and I'm just like, "hm...that'd probably be a good idea...tomorrow..."  I fear that I have become complacent in my misery.  Like this is all I have left of her so I'm clinging to it for dear life.  Yes, I know how crazy that sounds.  No, you wouldn't understand if I tried to explain it differently.  It's a mess.  It's all a.damn.mess.

Trantrum

I bought a book the other day, called "Healing After Loss: Daily Meditation for Working THrough Grief"  it's kinda like those flip calendars with quotes for the year.  I'm guilty of flipping through several random pages looking for anything relevant.  Today's blurb was kind of like the "hold sand loosely" theory, and I didn't like it, because I'm not there yet (It says something about holding grief loosely so that it can lift away cuz the one I love can not be broken...or something like that."

The one for Wednesday, however, caught my attention.  It says:

"Often with loss, especially if it has been sudden and untimely, we are tempted to dig in our heels at the last moment before the loss occurred. We will resist.  We do not consent.
It is a way of trying to hold on to the loved one, the person we knew before tragedy struck.  It is also a form of denial.  To rejoin life is to accept what has happened.  But it is unacceptable.  We will hold our breath, living in a suspended state of noncompliance, until the universe relents, changes it's mind---or at least apologizes, acknowledging it's crime.
This will not happen.  It is we who will be bypassed.  Better, as soon as possible, to realize that the terms are different now, and begin to live in this changed reality.  Anger is okay, but denial will hurt no one but me and those I love."

I'm conflicted about this.  Partially because I see so much of myself in it, and partially because I don't agree with parts of it entirely.  I have an issue with anyone (or anything in this case) that tells me to move forward as soon as possible...there is no time limit to grief, and what if the soonest that is possible is 20 years from now?  I relate because I have been stuck in October since October.  "Digging my heels in" as it says.  I don't know if "denial" is the word I would use though.  I KNOW that it happened.  I know that my baby is gone.  There's no denying it, the silence within my home and the daily trips to the cemetery serve as constant reminders.  I KNOW that it happened.  I am not ready to rejoin life, because that would mean accepting it...I agree and disagree...every day that I get up and go about life as "usual" I am unhappy and discontent all day long.  I sit at work or in traffic and scream at myself and everyone around me, "HOW THE HECK ARE WE JUST GOING ABOUT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?! SHES GONE! SHES GONE AND NOT ONE SINGLE ONE OF THESE PEOPLE ARE ACKNOWLEDGING THAT SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAS HAPPENED!"  Seriously, every day I have this chat with myself.  I know that people know and acknowledge, but it's almsot offensive to see everyone going about their day like any other day when I can't. Selfish? Maybe. True story? Any mom who has lost her baby will know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.  "Anger is okay."  Good.  Glad to see it in black and white.  And now hopefully since it's on the blog everyone else will back off about it a little.  I am not the person I was, my tongue is sharper than it used to be, my patience are fewer, and sometimes my volume is louder.  It's not personal, to you.  Just to me.  Angry at myself, for taking her there.  Angry at the person, for obvious reasons.  FURIOUS at God, because I KNOW that He can perform miracles, and I want to know WHY HE DIDNT.  THe ONE person who could have done something, didn't.  It's frustrating. And yes, I'm a little angry about it.  This is not to say I'm not a believer, I have known God my whole life and am not about to turn my back now, because even through all the anger and frustration I am very aware that He is my only hope to ever see her again.  I'm just mad.  Denial...I honestly can't stand that word.  To me, I think that if I was in denial I'd be pretending she was still here, just at a friends house, or something.  I don't pretend she's here.  She's not here.  I still have a hard time believing that she's not coming back.  But I know it.  I have (with help of course) gone through and put her clothes and special toys in totes, I have folded all of her blankeys and put them in totes, I've gone through the motions of acknowledging her absence, and I continue to do so every day.  I set my alarm an extra ten minutes early so that I have that time to just lay in bed and be sad at the silence before I get up.

"We do not consent"
Absolutely not.  And I never will.  I will never in a zillion years sign the permission slip for her to be gone.  I don't believe that she truly is.  I believe that she's here all the time, as painful as it is to not see her baby face, I know that she's here I can feel it.  "Gone" means not coming back. She might not be coming back physically, but...my dog barks at nothing...the clouds look like angels...dragonflies show up...I haven't posted that story yet but I will...socks appear in the bottom of boxes...the right songs play at the right moments...shadows move across my living room (not in a supernatural creepy way)...I know she's here.  It doesn't make me miss her any less.  This kind of "here" will never ever be the same as the tangible holdable snugglable kind of here that she was just 3 and a half months ago.  But I won't consent to her being "gone."

"Begin to live in this changed reality"
I think, that beginning to live in the change means just that...lving. Breathing. Walking. Forcing food in our faces.  I don't think that a grieving parent should be obligated to really "live" and function until they are ready.  I always say when asked "How are you doing?" or "You are so strong! I could never keep going.."  I always say, "Suicide is not my answer, and breathing is involuntary."  I live because God for whatever reason hasn't let this completely crumble me yet.  My health has gone downhill significantly, but I'm still here.  So...I am living in this changed reality...in my own way, and my own time, and I am doing the best I can.

The frustrating this about this new reality, is that it's only my reality.  To those around me who haven't been through this, I'm "unavailable" "unmotivated" "spacey" "gloomy" "distant" "detached" just to quote a few...and all of those things are true...and if there was a way to describe it with any kind of relatable accuracy I would in a heartbeat, but there isn't.  I've heard it compared to losing an arm, or a leg.  I've heard it compared to a traumatic brain injury.  All of those, while I can see how one might try to compare, are nothing.  I can't even say that I wish they could walk a mile in my shoes, because I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.  Some people are built to last, and some aren't, and I'm afraid that the people who spend so much time worrying about how well I'm NOT functioning, just couldn't handle this if it were them.  So, just to put the acknowledgement out there: I KNOW IM DIFFERENT.  And I'm not sorry.  Because how truly tragic would it be for a person to lose a huge chunk of their soul and come out of it like nothing happened?  I am different because I'm not the same person.  There's a piece of me missing that can't be fixed with time, or medication, or therapy.  I'm not sick, and I'm not depressed.  I'm just sad, and broken.  It's not going to go away, it's not going to get better.  I will learn to live with it over what I can only imagine will be a VERY long time, but until then...this is what it is.  Tantrum over. Have a lovely week.

Scared

Feb. 12, 2015
I'm off work until April.  The doctor wants me to take meds.  I am scared.  I am scared that I'm going to lose her completely if I move forward.  I'm scared that the drugs are either going to erase it all completely, or that when I come off them I'm going to fall right back to where I am now.  I feel like a failure because I can't do it on my own.  I feel like I'm letting Jason and Khaily down by taking the time off work.  I'm so tired. The battle between logic and emotion is kicking my trash.  I just want it all to go away :'( :'( :'(

Greys Anatomy

Do you know who you are?
Not anymore.  This has thrown me into tailspin that makes no sense.  My identity is gone, my purpose is undefined, and my will to continue on is shaky at best.

Do you know what's happened to you?
My baby girl died.  Ew that's an ugly word.

Do you want to keep living this way?
No.

Spring Cleaning

February 1, 2015
I have been in a weird place the last couple days...there's really no other way to explain it.  I put on make up the other day, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it...I don't see the point in it, I cry it all off within hours anyway, it was literally only the third time I've bothered to put it on since it happened...but I miss not looking like a hot mess all the time...it's weird, the things that this has messed with.  I started my spring cleaning craze today.  Those who know me best know that I am just not a messy person...I am almost neurotically neat actually...but I haven't really "cleaned" since it happened, so today was weird.  I organized the bathroom and put things away, her shampoo is now in the cupboard on the shelf with the "this isn't gone but I don't dare throw it out quite yet" stuff.  I cleaned out the medicine box...there's baby orajel and hylands tiny cold tabs and zarbees all natural baby cough syrup...I didn't throw them out...not ready yet.  And the weirdest part is that I caught myself thinking, "what if she needs these someday?" and immediately after I felt that awful nasious feeling that comes with the realization that...really I"m just being a crazy hoarder cuz she's not going to need any of it ever again.  That sucks, that feeling.  It sneaks up on me almost hourly, but it still sucks.  I reorganized our shoe box, and left her shoes there...I seriously don't think I will ever take her shoes out.  I cleaned off my kitchen table and found the thank you cards that I haven't sent....and to those who I owe a thank you card to I'm sorry...the gratitude is there, but I just don't have the "oomph" to do the cards, I honestly don't know if they will ever actually get done.  Just please know that we really do appreciate everyone who donated and brought dinners and was just there for a support or sent cards, I think of you all every day.  I haven't been on social media much the last couple days, I find that the more time I spend on Facebook the harder the day gets...partly because I've joined so many groups that my newsfeed is full of quotes and stuff about child loss and partly because once I get online I spend hours without even realizing it.

Took coffee up to the house Saturday...that was really hard.  I kept watching the clock wanting to spend time but also wanting to get the hell out of there.  Nothing mirrors the feeling of standing in the place where you got "the call." It's awful.  But I did it, and I'm proud of myself.  It was nice to get to see my friends and break up the sad morning routine that I've I guess become accustomed to.

I bought baby outfits the other day.  I just love baby clothes.  Looking through like the 18-24 month stuff gets me, but tiny baby stuff is just exciting! I LOVE IT!  I really wish that people would realize that that isn't the age that bothers me.  There really isn't an age that bothers me, but the ones around Khy's age definetly make my heart skip a beat.  It always makes me wonder what she'd look like or what words she'd have or...any of that...milestones...etc.

Here's hoping that this week feels a little less dark...

Happy Birthday Snugglebug

I have been on hiatus...trying to mentally prepare myself for yesterday...
I told myself before Christmas that she would be home for Christmas...and when Christmas came and went I resigned myself to the thought that if she didn't come home for her birthday then she really wasn't coming home. Well..her birthday was yesterday..my baby is still gone.

I had no intentions of doing anything for her birthday, as I was certain that I wouldn't be able to get out of bed at all. But I arranged with my brother last week to have her birthday dinner at his house, because before October we did family dinner there every Sunday, my kids, his kids, it was good times. I found the strength to make cupcakes, tear stained as they were, and spent way more than I should have on balloons...with no regret.  I sat on my brothers deck for a long time...remembering how I sat there the night she left me searching the stars, desperately looking for a glimpse of her. We named stars for her as her birthday gift.

I reminisced on the day she was born, how I couldn't sleep the night before, how the excitement grew as we all got ready to head to the hospital. I remember when they held her up over the sheet and I saw her for the very first time...and she was prefect. She was pure love from the instant she took her first breath.

My baby would be two. But she will never be. She is still 19 prefect months. And that is unbearable to me. To have done a birthday for a birthday that wasn't a change in age...I pray none of you ever have to endure it. I know that had I not done anything I would have kicked myself later, but doing it was like vinegar in a papercut. I did it despite the agony because...it's her birthday. It's the day we got her, the day we were a full family, its still her birthday. It's a day I will never forget, and even though she's gone...I was so blessed to have her at all. Even if I had known then that I would be spending her second birthday in years, I would not have given her back. Never.

I love you khy khy. So.very.much.