Birthday

*Warning - this post contains quite a few expletives. Proceed with caution.

So today is my birthday. We kept it pretty mellow - went to the gym, worked for a bit, took Ty to lunch, relaxed and basically just took it easy. Dan got me a beautiful hummingbir​d tile to build unto our back splash in the kitchen. He is so incredible thoughtful. Love that guy. He also gave me a baseball bat and an old printer and let me go to town. All three of us enjoyed that gift.

We went to dinner with my dad and all was good until a group came in with what looked like a five month old baby girl and sat right next to us. Needless to say, dinner was over.

That is the shit I just can't handle and it really sucks.

Some days I just feel like screaming at the top of my lungs that I can't fucking handle this anymore. I don't want her to be dead. I want her to be here. Why did my baby have to die and everyone else's is fine? Why the fuck did this have to happen to me? I just miss her so fucking much. I feel so broken. I don't know when or how of if this will ever get better? I can't help but think what the fuck did I do to deserve this? I can't handle it. I may act so strong but how long can I keep it up? After all, this is only an act and inside, I am flailing. I hate what my life has become. I hate not being able to be around babies or even meet my niece because it feels like I'm getting stabbed in my heart when I even think about her, let alone see a picture. I hate that I can't make it through a simple dinner without crying. I hate all of this and I desperately miss my old life. I miss my innocence and naivete. I miss life. I miss her.

We did it

I knew Christmas was going to be hard. Many, many people warned me how hard it was going to be and I listened and took advice to heart but nothing I did could have prepared myself for how hard it actually was. And not just the day of - the whole month leading up to it just plain sucked. I was NOT prepared for that part.

I have always loved Christmas. I loved finding the perfect things to give people (from my point of view at least) and watching them open it. Doesn't hurt that I have always loved shopping. Saying things have changed is an understatement. Ever since Naya died, going into a store has been pretty torturous. I know it seems strange but it's really an emotional battle. There are so many innocuous things that manage to stab me in the heart whether it's the diaper aisle at the grocery store or a mother pushing a baby in her cart. Shopping during Christmas time combines these things with the pain of seeing so many happy people shopping for their loved ones and buying presents for their kids. Shit that I would be doing if things hadn't gone so terribly wrong. I broke down numerous times in various stores throughout this past month. Everything just reminded me that my daughter is dead and I will never get to spend a Christmas with her. Enough so, that I did most of my Christmas shopping this year from the relative safety of my computer. Thank you for existing Etsy and Amazon. 

So with all the build up, I knew that the past two days were going to be hell. And they didn't disappoint. On Christmas Eve, I tried to have everything remain as normal as possible for Ty's sake and ignoring the fact that Naya would have been five months old on Christmas Eve. I sucked it up, we baked cookies, wrapped presents, had a nice dinner and I regulated all of my crying to the privacy of my shower. We woke up on Christmas morning, drank our tea and unwrapped presents, all while trying to ignore the gaping hole that is now a significant part of our lives. Ty had a wonderful Christmas, despite the fact that he decided to stop believing in Santa this year. He was very happy to get his Nintendo 3DS back after a month long sabbatical. 

After opening our gifts at home, we took showers and ventured to my dad's for brunch. Again, emotionally brutal. Don't get me wrong, it was lovely over there and no one did anything to make us feel bad. It was just so hard that she wasn't there with us except for the tiny bit of her ashes that were in the necklace I wore. Plus, Christmas was the time we announced to everyone that we were pregnant last year. Those happy memories only compounded our pain. We took a few breaks and went to the park by my dad's house to cry a few times. On the way back to our house, we stopped at the cemetery and wished her a Merry Christmas. We dropped Ty off at his dad's house and went home, packed our bags and drove down to the Indian Casino. Spent the rest of the day trying to forget that it was Christmas. I can't wait until the rest of this week is over - only a few more days (including my birthday tomorrow) and this shitty year will be over.

Ring Dan gave me for Christmas

Waiting

I feel like my life is a big waiting game now. Actually, this whole god damn year has been a waiting game. First we patiently awaited the birth of our daughter. We waited for her to try to get better in the hospital. We waited for the damn autopsy report after she died (more on this in a second). Now we are just waiting for the stupid holidays to be over because maybe that will help lift some of the fog that we are in.

We did finally get the autopsy report about a week and a half ago. I can't really go into much detail but it wasn't very surprising. She didn't have any genetic disorders and her lungs were the biggest problem. I guess it was good to find out that there was nothing genetic to prevent us from trying again. And now, that leads to another waiting game. Actively trying to have another baby.

I said in an earlier blog entry that I had a pre-conception visit with my OB a while back and she gave us the go ahead to try again. We waited (look - there's that theme again) for a month because we didn't want to be on the same "timeline" as we were last year with Naya. That would have been entirely too painful.

And now game on. We are actively trying to conceive. I never realized it before but trying to conceive is a huge waiting game. Especially when your body's natural cycle is all thrown off due to the fact that I gave birth five months ago and grief does a real number on one's hormones. So now we are waiting again. Waiting to ovulate. Waiting to be able to test. Just a whole bunch of stupid waiting. Being an incredibly impatient person in general makes this waiting fucking torture. We were able to conceive with Naya the first month around but I have a feeling this is not going to be so easy. The ironic thing is that after we do conceive, you know what's going to happen? That's right! More waiting! And a terrified panicky waiting at that.

Wish us luck - we are going to need it.

Is my brain broken?

One thing I've noticed about this whole grief thing is that my brain doesn't work the same as it did before. I am constantly forgetting things and my ability to focus has greatly diminished. Before, I was your typical overachiever. I loved being busy. My life was scheduled out and I was constantly going and handling the stress that comes with a busy life quite remarkably. I could work 40+ hours a week, get my son to his various activities, cook, clean, and basically "do it all" while brushing off the stress pretty easily. Yeah. Not so much anymore.

Now, going to work and handling that stress is about as much as I can handle. I come home and I don't want to do anything. I don't want to clean. I don't want to cook. I don't want to do anything but lie on my bed because I am exhausted. And it's depressing me because I feel like I am neglecting my family because I am just too tired to deal with it.

Luckily, Dan has been amazing at handling some of the stress - the helping Ty with homework kind being one of them. I am getting a little better but it's amazing how much energy and patience it takes to help with 5th grade homework. I don't know what I would do without him.

My ability to focus has also taken a huge hit. Before, I could do a multitude of things at the same time easily. Now, I find that I can't do simple things at the same time. I need to concentrate on focusing on one thing at a time or it all goes to hell. If someone is talking to me, I have to intensely listen to everything that they are saying or it goes right over my head. My grief has made me have the listening skills of a man. (No offense to anyone out there but you know it's true. That used to be one of my favorite things to do to Dan - talk to him while he was playing video games and watch him be completely oblivious to what I was saying. Now the tables have turned and that's me!)

I'm hoping that this is not a permanent effect. I can't handle that.

Swinging

I sit swinging...
wrestling in my thoughts

staring
blinds closed and glaring
fixating on the gaps

listening
emptiness ever deafening
coldness screaming, seemingly never ceasing
despite the void, your chimes continue ringing

and through my swinging
my staring
my listening
I'm always thanking you for your sweet song

And wishing
always wishing

---

This is my poem
This is how I continue to feel every night
Because I miss you and grasp to continue hearing you

Always in my heart,
Your Dad

3 months

It has been an emotional week. I am not quite ready to put everything out there yet but I will, eventually. I think the Holidays are affecting me more than I thought they would.

Today was bad. Naya has been gone for 3 months. I can't believe it has already been 3 months. In some ways, it feels like it was yesterday and in others it feels like longer. My head hurts thinking about it.

Thank you to everyone who lit candles for my girl on Sunday. It was an incredibly touching experience and I can't think about it without crying. We spent an hour as a family, talking about Naya and crying. I wanted to share some of the pics that were posted on my Facebook wall on Sunday. You guys are amazing and I thank you for thinking of us during this time. It is so much appreciated.

Love to you all and more later (I promise)

This last one is our living room with candles lit for all of the children lost. I have decided that next year, I am going to sponsor and organize an event in our community to honor all these children with speakers, songs, prayers and candles. It was a special moment that I believe needs to be shared.

This last picture is of a drawing that Ty did while we were watching the candles glow on Sunday night. I think his words are pretty insightful. Love to both of my babies. I'm proud to be the mother of you both.

For all those asking how I am doing

These aren't my own words but they hold true to how I am doing:

My mom is a survivor, or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear her crying at night, when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach, that never wash away. 
I watch over my surviving mom, who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others, a smile of disguise! 
But through it all, I see the tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death to keep my memory alive.
But anyone that knows her knows, it is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom through Heaven's open door.
I try to tell her that Angels protect me forever more.
I know that doesn't help her, or ease the burden that she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her and show her that you care.
For no matter what she says, no matter what she feels.
My surviving mom has a broken heart, that time won't ever heal.

Every year, many families face the holidays after the unthinkable has happened – the death of a child. In response to the need for grieving families to have one special day during the difficult holidays to remember and honor these children who have died, at any age and from any cause, the Compassionate Friends, a national support organization, created the Worldwide Candle Lighting. It takes place this year at 7pm local time, for an hour, on Sunday, December 11.

Please join me in lighting a candle not only in Naya's memory but in memory of all the children that have passed away.

I will be lighting my candle for you tonight Naya.
I love you and I miss you every hour of every day.

Awkward

I live in small town in a small county in the Middle of Nowhere, California. Don't get me wrong, I truly live in paradise (well, according to Oprah, I do) but there are definitely positives and negatives about living in this area. One great thing is that our community is very tight knit and helps each other out - as shown by the incredible support Dan and I received while Naya was fighting down at Children's. We couldn't have gotten through it without the support and are still super grateful. (Damn, I really need to start writing those Thank You cards but I still can't bring myself to start them.) 

Another thing about living in this area is that everyone knows each other. This is in itself a positive and negative. Because of this, one can't do something as simple as getting gas or grabbing lunch somewhere without running into someone you know. And this is where the awkwardness begins.

Basically, I am faced with one of three scenarios when I run into someone while going about my day. Either they know what happened or they don't. Quite honestly, they are all brutal. If they know what happened (and I haven't seen them yet) I get the standard "I am so sorry about what happened," "How are you doing?" "I prayed for you," "I don't know what to say," etc. There is nothing wrong with this, believe me. I am glad that they do acknowledge what happened because how can you ignore it? This past 5 months has changed and shaped me much more than the last 30 years combined.

Another scenario is just what I mentioned above - people know what happened but they ignore it because it's way too uncomfortable to talk about. Believe me, I get this too. This situation sucks and makes me feel just as uncomfortable as the person who has to run into me. I know that there a lot of the people who fit in this category want to say something to me but just don't know how to bring it up. And how do you? It's not like we are talking about the freaking weather or something. The small talk you have to have with me is about death and it's incredibly awkward and it's something that we, as a culture, are terrible talking about. I get it and I wouldn't be surprised if people avoid me just so they don't have to say something. I wouldn't blame them at all.

The third, and let me say, my absolute favorite scenario is when people have no idea what happened and ask "How's the baby?!" This too, I understand. After all, I was pregnant. They knew I was pregnant. The obvious conclusion would be that after a pregnancy, there is a baby. The awkwardness immediately starts for me as soon as these words leave their mouth. I mean what do I say? My options really suck. I can either: a) Lie and say she's fine which would make me feel like shit or b) tell the truth and say that she died which makes them feel like shit. Not pretty either way but so far, I have always chosen option b. I don't like making people feel uncomfortable but I can't see any other way to go.

I suppose I just have to get used to the fact that my life is going to be a giant pile of awkward for the foreseeable future. Awesome.

Sisyphus

I am bored. I never thought that 4 1/2 months after having a baby I would be complaining about boredom. I thought that I would be running around, changing diapers, getting up for feedings and trying to find enough hours in the day to cook and clean the house. But here I am, bored and babyless.

I've been doing a lot of reading lately. I've always been a big reader (I was an English major in college) but after I graduated, I gave up on literature for awhile and read mainly non-fiction and chick lit. (I can't believe I just admitted that last bit in a public forum.) I've found myself with a lot of time on my hands and I've already gone through the aimless laying on my bed part of my mourning process (which was spent watching both The Office and How I Met Your Mother) and now I need something else to do. So I am reading fiction again and not of the Shopoholic variety.

Right now, I am reading a book called The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb. I've read some of his books before and I've liked his style although I forgot how depressing his writing can be. This book is about a man whose wife was in the library of Columbine during the shootings and the aftermath this left on their lives. Yes, entirely depressing but it fits my mood.

When I read, I tend to focus on parts of the story that hold poignant to me and my own life. Obviously, my perspective has changed a lot in the past 6 months. During what part of the story, the main character is teaching a class called The Quest in Literature and he asks his students to write an essay in which they compare themselves to a mythological character. He does the assignment himself and compares his struggle to Sisyphus, the king who is forced to push a boulder up a hill only to have it roll back down on him for all of eternity. This really stood out to me. I think the struggle of Sisyphus is a perfect metaphor for the grief one experiences when you have lost a child. Every day is spent struggling to push the thoughts of your child out of your head in order to get through the day and make it up that hill. Some days, you barely go a few feet before everything comes crashing down again. Some days, you make it a good halfway up and feel like you are really progressing and you just might make it a little bit further tomorrow. And some days, you get that boulder pretty damn close to the summit but something gets in the way that causes that damn rock to come rolling back down again. Unfortunately, I think that parents who have lost a child suffer a similar fate as Sisyphus because we are never going to be able to get rid of that boulder.

Anyway, I am almost done with the book and looking for other good reads. Any suggestions?