Well, it's been over 2 years now and we still have Joshua's ashes in a cupboard at home - we still haven't laid him to rest. I really think that I need to take him to Canberra and release him over Yerrabi Pond, the same place we released Cara... no other place seems right somehow. I like to visualize them together (Cara and Joshua) - holding hands and running to and with my Dad and my 4 grandparents and my sister Narelle and my cousin Evan. So many people up there to look after my little angels - how blessed I am.
As for grieving - I think I'm done with grieving, or at least the major part of it. I think Joshua's last birthday really healed a lot of hurt and pain over his loss - it is such a beautiful memory in my mind ;-) I no longer hurt when I see complete families or families with 4 children or a child who would be close in age to our Cara or our Joshua.
When I think of my baby boy now I smile at the vision described above and know that he has "fulfilled his purpose" (words shared with me by my very wise cousin Maria). I hope one day that I become aware of what that purpose was, but even if I don't, it doesn't matter. I was the vehicle by which he fulfilled his purpose - so be it. Those words have been so instrumental in my healing, quite amazing really.
There is a certain sense of peace that washes over me sometimes and I think it's when my darlings have their arms around me. I know that they are not here with me, but in a way they never feel far away either. Sounds crazy I know. I know that there will be days of sadness in my future but they will be nothing compared to the days I've experienced in the 2 years after I lost Cara and then Joshua.
Not sure that I will need to write here any more, I think it's time to move on now - not to forget, NEVER will I forget, just to move on. A part of my heart will be forever with my angels and I know now that it won't be just me remembering them. Every time someone in the world thinks of my angels, my heart will heal a little bit more and my strength will grow and one day I will be able to laugh just as easily and heartily as I did before 13th July 2003... one day soon.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Monday, October 25, 2010
Shock!
I just can't believe it... where's the balance in the world! What the hell is going on!
About 8 years (I can't remember exactly when) my godparents lost their son-in-law and their 10 year old grandson, on the same day, in a car accident. In that incident, it was their eldest daughter who's world was shattered, my oldest first cousin. Today I received a phone call informing me that yesterday their youngest daughter (their 6th child) lost her husband in a tragic accident while he was riding a dune buggy through the sand dunes in Do Hai. He leaves behind not only his wife, but his 6 year old son and 4 month old son! I just don't get it!
My cousin in Do Hai has no family with her and had to go an identify her husband's body all alone, with her children in tow. What the!! Are we supposed to make sense of all this? How? Is there really a God?? Her family in Perth is madly trying to organise flights and visas so that 2 of her 4 sisters can go and support her in some way. Support her how?! What can they really do for her?? OH MY GOD!!! Why do these things happen to people, more importantly to the people I love!
I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do for her, absolutely nothing! This feeling of helplessness is numbing... I don't know where to turn, who to talk to, what to do... I know, I'm in shock. I can only imagine what my darling cousin is feeling - OH MY GOD!!
Lost for words now... more later.
About 8 years (I can't remember exactly when) my godparents lost their son-in-law and their 10 year old grandson, on the same day, in a car accident. In that incident, it was their eldest daughter who's world was shattered, my oldest first cousin. Today I received a phone call informing me that yesterday their youngest daughter (their 6th child) lost her husband in a tragic accident while he was riding a dune buggy through the sand dunes in Do Hai. He leaves behind not only his wife, but his 6 year old son and 4 month old son! I just don't get it!
My cousin in Do Hai has no family with her and had to go an identify her husband's body all alone, with her children in tow. What the!! Are we supposed to make sense of all this? How? Is there really a God?? Her family in Perth is madly trying to organise flights and visas so that 2 of her 4 sisters can go and support her in some way. Support her how?! What can they really do for her?? OH MY GOD!!! Why do these things happen to people, more importantly to the people I love!
I know that there is absolutely nothing I can do for her, absolutely nothing! This feeling of helplessness is numbing... I don't know where to turn, who to talk to, what to do... I know, I'm in shock. I can only imagine what my darling cousin is feeling - OH MY GOD!!
Lost for words now... more later.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
A celebration!
Just over 4 weeks after the event, I'm finally ready to write about it!
The weeks leading up to Joshua's birthday (at least 3 weeks) were, as usual, horrendous. It's almost like my head and my body and my heart remembers what's coming and I have no control over how I deal with it. I was teary and grumpy and tired and sore and generally not very nice to be around. Thankfully I had my first private session with Suzie the week before Joshua's birthday and she helped me make the decision to do exactly what I wanted to for Joshua's birthday instead of what everyone else wanted or expected me to do.
A few days before Joshua's birthday, I sent out an email to those who I felt were connected to him in some way, inviting them over for dinner on his birthday and was pleasantly surprised when I received quite a few acceptances.
On the morning of his birthday I woke up grouchy and, unfortunately, so did Amy. I knew that she, like me, was coping with feelings of grief, but I didn't have the strength to help her cope that day. We ended up yelling at each other quite a bit in the morning, but by lunchtime we were both in better moods. My plan was to tidy the house in the morning and cook in the afternoon, so I tidied as much as I could before lunch. Amy wanted to make Joshua's cake so, after lunch, she started.
After making lunch for the girls I started clearing up and found myself cleaning and cleaning and cleaning... just like on the day of Joshua's funeral. (I was late to the church on the day of his funeral because I just had to clean the car - something I had't done in over 6 months because of the amount of pain that it causes.) As I cleaned I kept saying to myself "That's enough cleaning now, you have to start cooking for your dinner guests" - I didn't listen to myself!
I half expected Mum and my sister to arrive at any minute to help, so that I didn't have to take the girls to the shops with me but when I called them at 4pm they said that they didn't realise that people were arriving so early. When the first guests walked in at 4pm I hadn't even bought the ingredients I needed, let alone started the cooking. I was a little stressed!
Fortunately a very kind guest offered to go to the shop for me and dinner became a community effort which was really nice. After dinner, we all sang "Happy Birthday" to Joshua and cut the cake that Amy and Jeremy had hurriedly but beautifully iced. Amy, Charlotte and I said a few words of thanks to our guests and then we watched a beautiful YouTube clip called "Precious Child" accompanied by the song with the same name written by Karen Taylor Good. It sums up almost exactly how I feel about Cara and Joshua and I thought it would help our guests understand why we felt the need to celebrate their birthdays.
You can view the clip here:
When I eventually got to sit down and "experience" the evening my heart was filled with joy. Our home was filled with family and friends, but most importantly that beautiful sound of children enjoying life - laughter and giggles and yelling and singing and of course a bit of fighting... my dream had become reality and I went to sleep that night with a big smile on my face, along with the deep longing in my heart to have all my darling children here on earth with me.
After dessert, a friend called me outside to where Amy was and told me what had happened outside. Apparently, Amy had gone out to find a star in the sky because that is our symbol of Joshua and because it was a cloudy night she couldn't see any and so she started calling out to Joshua. After a minute or two she saw a sudden and very measurable glow in one area of the night sky, and this is when they called me. To me it looked like someone was in "that particular room in heaven" and they had turned on a soft lamp. That glow was so comforting and I'm sure there's a valid scientific explanation for it, but for myself and Amy it was Joshua turning a lamp on in his bedroom just to let us know that he is okay.
A magical end to a magical evening. ;-)
The weeks leading up to Joshua's birthday (at least 3 weeks) were, as usual, horrendous. It's almost like my head and my body and my heart remembers what's coming and I have no control over how I deal with it. I was teary and grumpy and tired and sore and generally not very nice to be around. Thankfully I had my first private session with Suzie the week before Joshua's birthday and she helped me make the decision to do exactly what I wanted to for Joshua's birthday instead of what everyone else wanted or expected me to do.
A few days before Joshua's birthday, I sent out an email to those who I felt were connected to him in some way, inviting them over for dinner on his birthday and was pleasantly surprised when I received quite a few acceptances.
On the morning of his birthday I woke up grouchy and, unfortunately, so did Amy. I knew that she, like me, was coping with feelings of grief, but I didn't have the strength to help her cope that day. We ended up yelling at each other quite a bit in the morning, but by lunchtime we were both in better moods. My plan was to tidy the house in the morning and cook in the afternoon, so I tidied as much as I could before lunch. Amy wanted to make Joshua's cake so, after lunch, she started.
After making lunch for the girls I started clearing up and found myself cleaning and cleaning and cleaning... just like on the day of Joshua's funeral. (I was late to the church on the day of his funeral because I just had to clean the car - something I had't done in over 6 months because of the amount of pain that it causes.) As I cleaned I kept saying to myself "That's enough cleaning now, you have to start cooking for your dinner guests" - I didn't listen to myself!
I half expected Mum and my sister to arrive at any minute to help, so that I didn't have to take the girls to the shops with me but when I called them at 4pm they said that they didn't realise that people were arriving so early. When the first guests walked in at 4pm I hadn't even bought the ingredients I needed, let alone started the cooking. I was a little stressed!
Fortunately a very kind guest offered to go to the shop for me and dinner became a community effort which was really nice. After dinner, we all sang "Happy Birthday" to Joshua and cut the cake that Amy and Jeremy had hurriedly but beautifully iced. Amy, Charlotte and I said a few words of thanks to our guests and then we watched a beautiful YouTube clip called "Precious Child" accompanied by the song with the same name written by Karen Taylor Good. It sums up almost exactly how I feel about Cara and Joshua and I thought it would help our guests understand why we felt the need to celebrate their birthdays.
You can view the clip here:
When I eventually got to sit down and "experience" the evening my heart was filled with joy. Our home was filled with family and friends, but most importantly that beautiful sound of children enjoying life - laughter and giggles and yelling and singing and of course a bit of fighting... my dream had become reality and I went to sleep that night with a big smile on my face, along with the deep longing in my heart to have all my darling children here on earth with me.
After dessert, a friend called me outside to where Amy was and told me what had happened outside. Apparently, Amy had gone out to find a star in the sky because that is our symbol of Joshua and because it was a cloudy night she couldn't see any and so she started calling out to Joshua. After a minute or two she saw a sudden and very measurable glow in one area of the night sky, and this is when they called me. To me it looked like someone was in "that particular room in heaven" and they had turned on a soft lamp. That glow was so comforting and I'm sure there's a valid scientific explanation for it, but for myself and Amy it was Joshua turning a lamp on in his bedroom just to let us know that he is okay.
A magical end to a magical evening. ;-)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Awakenings!
Everything happens for a reason... life is so amazing...
When the principal at school, a personal friend as well, was suddenly sacked on a Friday afternoon at 1pm the school community was in shock... I very quickly realised that I was experiencing the stages of grieving (having had been there a couple of times before in life!)...
1. shock and denial
2. anger
3. depression, detachment and/or guilt
4. dialogue and bargaining
5. acceptance
What I didn't realise straight away is why it also started a sequence of events which would lead me to moving forward in my process of grieving over my precious son.
The school board engaged a psychologist to help the community deal with the many issues that the sacking of the principal brought about and I decided to see her as I felt that I was being over-emotional about the whole situation. It was at our first session that Suzie helped me realise that this event was just "the straw that broke the camel's back".
In her eyes my journey in grief actually started in 1994 when I had a car accident. This accident resulted in me losing my ability to work full-time in a career that I loved, it also had major repercussions on my lifestyle. Over time I found that I had to give up many things that I loved doing - things that defined who I was... I was no longer able to enjoy a night at the movies, I was no longer able to sew my own clothes or do any other sewing, I was no longer able to crochet or cross-stitch, I was no longer able to garden to the extent that I used to... in essence I began to lose parts of my identity.
In 1997 I met Jeremy and my life took a different turn. Here before me was a person who was quite happy to support me financially and allow me to focus on healing my body. It took quite some time for me to let go of my stubborn independence and allow him to "look after me" and even then I had to make sure that I was "pulling my weight" by doing the books for the company, which led me to a new career path - bookkeeping.
I didn't realise how much I depended on Jeremy until I travelled with my Mum and sister around Europe. It was a rude awakening for me to see how much Jeremy helped me cope physically and how much I needed him. Unfortunately, it didn't do a lot for my self-esteem.
After living in the UK for 18 months, Jeremy and I eventually returned to live in Canberra and start a family, and once again I became aware of how impossible it was be for me to be physically independent. Even looking after our new baby was impossible without help from Mum and especially Jeremy. The night time feeds were especially difficult - there were many nights when I could barely get myself out of bed, let alone pick up a hungry infant from her cot, seat myself down and position both of us in a comfortable feeding position. It seemed there was nothing I could do on my own any more, I unknowingly grieved the loss of the independent being that I once was.
In 2003 when I lost Cara, a part of me actually died. I no longer had faith in my body to sustain a pregnancy to term and my feelings of failure as a mother, a wife and a woman were so intense. It took us over 2 years to fall pregnant again and the 5 months prior to Charlotte's birth were the most difficult 5 months of my life - both emotionally and physically. My inability to trust my body led to Charlotte being delivered by elective Caesarean at just 38 weeks. Thankfully she has been fit and healthy from the day she was born.
By this time, Mum was spending 3 months in Canberra and 3 months in Melbourne, and life grew increasingly difficult with 2 children and no family support and so Jeremy and I decided that it was time that our children spent more time with family and so we moved to Melbourne.
I always knew that the move would be hardest on me emotionally because Jeremy and I had made a commitment when we had kids that I would be at home with them until they started high school and so I knew that I would have to actively seek out a social network. What I didn't factor in was how much my body would be affected by the move and also how much the absence of the physical therapist network that I had built over time in Canberra would impact on it.
My body deteriorated so much that I was no longer able to drive anywhere further than 30 minutes from home because it would result in me being in too much pain to cope the next day. I soon discovered that volunteering at the school was the perfect "job" for me. I could work when I was physically able to, as much as I wanted, but no-one was there cracking the whip when I would wake up on those frequent mornings when I could do barely more than take the girls to school and pick them up again. And when I'm really bad and I just can't bare the thought of having to drive home and then drive back to school for pick-up again, I just stay at school and I can always find something useful to do there which doesn't involve a huge amount of physical effort.
In May 2008, just 7 months after moving to Melbourne I found myself pregnant, totally unplanned! Due to the increasing levels of pain I was experiencing on a daily basis I became quite severely depressed, and just couldn't see myself coping with another pregnancy and another baby, when I could barely cope physically with Charlotte, who wasn't even 2 years old at the time.
I even reached the point of considering suicide and taking my girls with me so that they wouldn't be without a mother. Thank God I had a moment of sanity during that very dark time and I took myself to the doctor for some help. By 14 weeks into the pregnancy the dark cloud had lifted and I was so excited at the thought of this precious and unexpected gift growing within me.
At our 18 week ultrasound I found out we were having a boy, and I just couldn't keep it to myself. He was the first Laidman boy since Jeremy's birth and the first in Dad's family since Dad's birth. What celebrations there were in the family at the news - it was exhilarating.
The suddenly in September he was ripped from our lives and I couldn't believe that it was happening to us again - I had failed so many people around me... again... Amy, Jeremy, my Mum, my in-laws and so many others. I just didn't get it.
I was so touched by those who came for Joshua's funeral - some travelling from Canberra just for the day and cousins who rushed back from overseas just so that they could be there for us. I also remember being so very sad because people who I thought were close to me didn't call or visit or contact me in any way to offer condolences. I was sooo very hurt. I so wanted to be back in Canberra with the friendship network that I'd built over the 15 years that I'd been there, and all the people who supported me through my loss of Cara.
I remember waking up on one particular day to an intense feeling of grief so overwhelming that I couldn't function, I couldn't think about what I needed to do to look after my girls and it totally freaked me out. I had to call Mum to come over and look after us all. Later that day, when the wave of grief finally lost it's hold on me I made a conscious decision to put my grief on hold until Charlotte was at school and I had the luxury of many hours in a day on my own, when I was not solely responsible for the care of my children.
I realise now that in making that decision that I unknowingly made the decision to start shutting myself down emotionally. I detached myself from my role of mother and nurturer, I detached myself from my role of wife and I detached myself from my role of Creative Memories consultant, because it is so much more than just a job for me - it feeds my soul, my creativity and my need to help people.
This person that I've become over the past 3 years - this helpless, incompetent, anti-social, whinger - is so far removed from the person I know myself to be that I almost don't recognise her.
All this I realised in just one session with the amazing Suzie! I have seen so many psychologists and therapists since moving to Melbourne. It is so invigorating to feel that I have finally found someone that truly understands me and will actually help me on my journey through grief back to the powerful, active, accomplished, amazing woman that I once was. Stay tuned world ;-)
When the principal at school, a personal friend as well, was suddenly sacked on a Friday afternoon at 1pm the school community was in shock... I very quickly realised that I was experiencing the stages of grieving (having had been there a couple of times before in life!)...
1. shock and denial
2. anger
3. depression, detachment and/or guilt
4. dialogue and bargaining
5. acceptance
What I didn't realise straight away is why it also started a sequence of events which would lead me to moving forward in my process of grieving over my precious son.
The school board engaged a psychologist to help the community deal with the many issues that the sacking of the principal brought about and I decided to see her as I felt that I was being over-emotional about the whole situation. It was at our first session that Suzie helped me realise that this event was just "the straw that broke the camel's back".
In her eyes my journey in grief actually started in 1994 when I had a car accident. This accident resulted in me losing my ability to work full-time in a career that I loved, it also had major repercussions on my lifestyle. Over time I found that I had to give up many things that I loved doing - things that defined who I was... I was no longer able to enjoy a night at the movies, I was no longer able to sew my own clothes or do any other sewing, I was no longer able to crochet or cross-stitch, I was no longer able to garden to the extent that I used to... in essence I began to lose parts of my identity.
In 1997 I met Jeremy and my life took a different turn. Here before me was a person who was quite happy to support me financially and allow me to focus on healing my body. It took quite some time for me to let go of my stubborn independence and allow him to "look after me" and even then I had to make sure that I was "pulling my weight" by doing the books for the company, which led me to a new career path - bookkeeping.
I didn't realise how much I depended on Jeremy until I travelled with my Mum and sister around Europe. It was a rude awakening for me to see how much Jeremy helped me cope physically and how much I needed him. Unfortunately, it didn't do a lot for my self-esteem.
After living in the UK for 18 months, Jeremy and I eventually returned to live in Canberra and start a family, and once again I became aware of how impossible it was be for me to be physically independent. Even looking after our new baby was impossible without help from Mum and especially Jeremy. The night time feeds were especially difficult - there were many nights when I could barely get myself out of bed, let alone pick up a hungry infant from her cot, seat myself down and position both of us in a comfortable feeding position. It seemed there was nothing I could do on my own any more, I unknowingly grieved the loss of the independent being that I once was.
In 2003 when I lost Cara, a part of me actually died. I no longer had faith in my body to sustain a pregnancy to term and my feelings of failure as a mother, a wife and a woman were so intense. It took us over 2 years to fall pregnant again and the 5 months prior to Charlotte's birth were the most difficult 5 months of my life - both emotionally and physically. My inability to trust my body led to Charlotte being delivered by elective Caesarean at just 38 weeks. Thankfully she has been fit and healthy from the day she was born.
By this time, Mum was spending 3 months in Canberra and 3 months in Melbourne, and life grew increasingly difficult with 2 children and no family support and so Jeremy and I decided that it was time that our children spent more time with family and so we moved to Melbourne.
I always knew that the move would be hardest on me emotionally because Jeremy and I had made a commitment when we had kids that I would be at home with them until they started high school and so I knew that I would have to actively seek out a social network. What I didn't factor in was how much my body would be affected by the move and also how much the absence of the physical therapist network that I had built over time in Canberra would impact on it.
My body deteriorated so much that I was no longer able to drive anywhere further than 30 minutes from home because it would result in me being in too much pain to cope the next day. I soon discovered that volunteering at the school was the perfect "job" for me. I could work when I was physically able to, as much as I wanted, but no-one was there cracking the whip when I would wake up on those frequent mornings when I could do barely more than take the girls to school and pick them up again. And when I'm really bad and I just can't bare the thought of having to drive home and then drive back to school for pick-up again, I just stay at school and I can always find something useful to do there which doesn't involve a huge amount of physical effort.
In May 2008, just 7 months after moving to Melbourne I found myself pregnant, totally unplanned! Due to the increasing levels of pain I was experiencing on a daily basis I became quite severely depressed, and just couldn't see myself coping with another pregnancy and another baby, when I could barely cope physically with Charlotte, who wasn't even 2 years old at the time.
I even reached the point of considering suicide and taking my girls with me so that they wouldn't be without a mother. Thank God I had a moment of sanity during that very dark time and I took myself to the doctor for some help. By 14 weeks into the pregnancy the dark cloud had lifted and I was so excited at the thought of this precious and unexpected gift growing within me.
At our 18 week ultrasound I found out we were having a boy, and I just couldn't keep it to myself. He was the first Laidman boy since Jeremy's birth and the first in Dad's family since Dad's birth. What celebrations there were in the family at the news - it was exhilarating.
The suddenly in September he was ripped from our lives and I couldn't believe that it was happening to us again - I had failed so many people around me... again... Amy, Jeremy, my Mum, my in-laws and so many others. I just didn't get it.
I was so touched by those who came for Joshua's funeral - some travelling from Canberra just for the day and cousins who rushed back from overseas just so that they could be there for us. I also remember being so very sad because people who I thought were close to me didn't call or visit or contact me in any way to offer condolences. I was sooo very hurt. I so wanted to be back in Canberra with the friendship network that I'd built over the 15 years that I'd been there, and all the people who supported me through my loss of Cara.
I remember waking up on one particular day to an intense feeling of grief so overwhelming that I couldn't function, I couldn't think about what I needed to do to look after my girls and it totally freaked me out. I had to call Mum to come over and look after us all. Later that day, when the wave of grief finally lost it's hold on me I made a conscious decision to put my grief on hold until Charlotte was at school and I had the luxury of many hours in a day on my own, when I was not solely responsible for the care of my children.
I realise now that in making that decision that I unknowingly made the decision to start shutting myself down emotionally. I detached myself from my role of mother and nurturer, I detached myself from my role of wife and I detached myself from my role of Creative Memories consultant, because it is so much more than just a job for me - it feeds my soul, my creativity and my need to help people.
This person that I've become over the past 3 years - this helpless, incompetent, anti-social, whinger - is so far removed from the person I know myself to be that I almost don't recognise her.
All this I realised in just one session with the amazing Suzie! I have seen so many psychologists and therapists since moving to Melbourne. It is so invigorating to feel that I have finally found someone that truly understands me and will actually help me on my journey through grief back to the powerful, active, accomplished, amazing woman that I once was. Stay tuned world ;-)
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Surprises
I find it quite fascinating how the human mind works. To anyone reading this blog, please remember that this is how I work things through in my mind and that my intention is not to criticise or blame anyone, just to think out loud so that I can come to a place of peace in my head.
I have been going through a lot of emotional turmoil over the past few weeks due to events that have taken place at my children's Montessori school. In a nutshell - I feel that we have lost an amazing Montessori educator and that it was not handled in a very respectful way by those involved. So many events and issues have come to the surface and the situation is so complicated that it has become quite difficult for me to process it all.
In my head, I understand that those ultimately responsible for the decision truly feel that they have taken action in the best interests of the school and I fully support them in that decision because they have so much more information than I do, or want to, have.
I understand that some of the staff have been quite unhappy for quite some time and that's not a great position to be in - to dislike turning up to work everyday. I must commend them on their dedication to the education of our children despite these personal issues - the children have been totally unaware of any of this and, as always, more than happy to come to school everyday.
It has questioned my understanding of what Montessori is and what the school stands for. It has questioned my belief that all humans are intrinsically good hearted people. It has brought me to the realisation that people can only see the "whole" picture by what they see and hear directly and that if I, as a member of the community, don't speak out about what I know and what I see then the picture may actually be incomplete because at least one view is missing. It has confirmed to me the importance of transparency and clear and open communication.
I have noticed a considerable change of energy around the school in the past couple of weeks. Once the shock subsided, the heaviness that has been in the air for a long time has gone to be replaced by hope and happiness and I think the Acting Principal, Grace Vella, has played a big role in bringing about that change in the 2 weeks that she has been in the role. Some people are just born leaders and I believe that she is one of them.
I have been going through the process of grieving again... only this time the person that I am grieving for is still alive. I guess it has been a bit like the break up of a relationship. Mostly I have been outraged by the way that his person has been removed from our school and from our children's lives. Despite his failings as a leader and a manager, I truly believe that his only goal was to provide a better Montessori education for our children and to ensure that we, as Montessori parents, receive the education that we are paying a lot of money for.
I do believe that he has lacked the skills required to get people on board with moving forward but I also believe that many people had decided that they weren't going to budge or change their ways even before he came to the school. I believe the way he presented his view of the world made people feel that they weren't good enough when in actual fact he was just inviting and challenging us all to improve ourselves, gain more knowledge and share in his passion and dream.
As humans none of us are perfect, we all have our failings both professionally and personally. I don't believe this gives anyone the right to treat any human being with disrespect. We all come from different life experiences and we all have different personalities. Why cannot we all live in acceptance of these unique aspects within all of us? Why should a person nave to be likeable in order to be accepted?
Why is it that people who are not pure in their motivations end up with so much power and influence? Why is it so hard for us to say "I am so sorry, I made a mistake. I have not dealt with this well. I cannot undo my actions but I promise that I will learn from the past and try to make amends"?
I think that is my lesson from all of this... I need to sit my family down and say exactly that - "I am so sorry, I made a mistake. I have not dealt with this well. I cannot undo my actions but I promise that I will learn from the past and try to make amends"
I need to apologise for being so self-absorbed in my grief over losing Joshua that I have been unable to help them through theirs. I have failed in my own expectations of my role as a mother on so many levels. I have not modelled care for our home. I have not modelled a healthy way of dealing with grief. I have not modelled that it is okay to just scream and cry and say "It's not fair" as long as we don't wallow in it and we do what we need to to move on from there. I have not given them myself for such a long, long time.
They have received snippets of the intense love that I have for them and I have seen them soak it up like a person thirsting for water in the desert, and then I feel myself withdrawing from them and I see them feeling that withdrawal and it makes me want to scream at myself in anger and sob my heart out for taking away what is rightfully theirs.
I need for them to understand that I don't stop loving them - ever, but that I don't always have the strength to show them that love because it makes me so very sad for reasons that I don't truly understand. Surely after having lost 2 children I would want to smother my 2 living children with all the love in my heart? Why don't I? What makes me stop? Why do I not want to let them believe Mummy's love can make everything okay? Why am I so determined to ensure that if I were gone tomorrow that their pain wouldn't be so intense? Why can't I just live in the moment and not be so "real"?
I have watched my oldest child suffer the loss of 2 siblings. She is an extra sensitive soul and she has felt the grief of both losses enormously, even though she was only 21 months when she lost her baby sister and almost 7 when she lost her baby brother. She has an awareness and wisdom way beyond her years and it's not fair that she has had to feel all this pain. Part of my feelings of being a failure as a Mum is tied to the fact that I could not protect her from this pain and that I was in fact instrumental in it - I know that's not rational, but emotions rarely are.
She hasn't been sleeping well for weeks and in my heart I feel that it is tied to her grief, and I know that I am the only person who can help her find a way to deal with it, but I just don't feel strong enough to go there with her - again my sense of failure as a mother.
Just yesterday, I looked around at my home and realised that I am surrounded by piles of "I can't deal with that right now". As a person who likes to have a place for everything and everything in it's place I haven't been true to myself for a long time. Normally, when an event happens I deal with the emotion, release it, learn from it and move on. I haven't been able to do that with Joshua and my home is a true reflection of my emotional state.
I look around at toys and clothes and mess on the floor and piles of boxes in various rooms and think to myself "Oh my God, it's just too much... it's just too hard... it's too painful (on my back)... it's so overwhelming... where do I start... I've only just realised (as I've typed this) that my home is reflecting my grief.
Every few weeks I spend a day tidying up and it feels so good to be able to see the carpet and see things in place but I never seem to have the energy or motivation to keep going until it is all done. I don't actually know if tidying my home will help start my healing or starting my healing with help tidy my home.
Sometimes when people visit I think to myself "What do you actually think of me and the way I keep my home?" but I don't really care about the answer, other times I can feel a voice screaming in my head "Can't you see that I can't do this on my own - why can't you see that I need help?" I don't really believe that anyone can help me, I believe that only I can take the steps necessary to start my healing, but I think I just need acknowledgement of my pain.
Why? Why should I need people to acknowledge my suffering and pain? Everyone has their own burden to bear. Mine is no greater, or lesser, than the next person. What is it exactly that I need to start my journey of healing? Why am I so stuck in this pain?
Oh boy - this hasn't really helped today. I'm sure I'll have to do more soul searching very soon, but right now I need a break. Thanks for caring enough to read this - you are instrumental in my healing. Hugs. Dionnne.
I have been going through a lot of emotional turmoil over the past few weeks due to events that have taken place at my children's Montessori school. In a nutshell - I feel that we have lost an amazing Montessori educator and that it was not handled in a very respectful way by those involved. So many events and issues have come to the surface and the situation is so complicated that it has become quite difficult for me to process it all.
In my head, I understand that those ultimately responsible for the decision truly feel that they have taken action in the best interests of the school and I fully support them in that decision because they have so much more information than I do, or want to, have.
I understand that some of the staff have been quite unhappy for quite some time and that's not a great position to be in - to dislike turning up to work everyday. I must commend them on their dedication to the education of our children despite these personal issues - the children have been totally unaware of any of this and, as always, more than happy to come to school everyday.
It has questioned my understanding of what Montessori is and what the school stands for. It has questioned my belief that all humans are intrinsically good hearted people. It has brought me to the realisation that people can only see the "whole" picture by what they see and hear directly and that if I, as a member of the community, don't speak out about what I know and what I see then the picture may actually be incomplete because at least one view is missing. It has confirmed to me the importance of transparency and clear and open communication.
I have noticed a considerable change of energy around the school in the past couple of weeks. Once the shock subsided, the heaviness that has been in the air for a long time has gone to be replaced by hope and happiness and I think the Acting Principal, Grace Vella, has played a big role in bringing about that change in the 2 weeks that she has been in the role. Some people are just born leaders and I believe that she is one of them.
I have been going through the process of grieving again... only this time the person that I am grieving for is still alive. I guess it has been a bit like the break up of a relationship. Mostly I have been outraged by the way that his person has been removed from our school and from our children's lives. Despite his failings as a leader and a manager, I truly believe that his only goal was to provide a better Montessori education for our children and to ensure that we, as Montessori parents, receive the education that we are paying a lot of money for.
I do believe that he has lacked the skills required to get people on board with moving forward but I also believe that many people had decided that they weren't going to budge or change their ways even before he came to the school. I believe the way he presented his view of the world made people feel that they weren't good enough when in actual fact he was just inviting and challenging us all to improve ourselves, gain more knowledge and share in his passion and dream.
As humans none of us are perfect, we all have our failings both professionally and personally. I don't believe this gives anyone the right to treat any human being with disrespect. We all come from different life experiences and we all have different personalities. Why cannot we all live in acceptance of these unique aspects within all of us? Why should a person nave to be likeable in order to be accepted?
Why is it that people who are not pure in their motivations end up with so much power and influence? Why is it so hard for us to say "I am so sorry, I made a mistake. I have not dealt with this well. I cannot undo my actions but I promise that I will learn from the past and try to make amends"?
I think that is my lesson from all of this... I need to sit my family down and say exactly that - "I am so sorry, I made a mistake. I have not dealt with this well. I cannot undo my actions but I promise that I will learn from the past and try to make amends"
I need to apologise for being so self-absorbed in my grief over losing Joshua that I have been unable to help them through theirs. I have failed in my own expectations of my role as a mother on so many levels. I have not modelled care for our home. I have not modelled a healthy way of dealing with grief. I have not modelled that it is okay to just scream and cry and say "It's not fair" as long as we don't wallow in it and we do what we need to to move on from there. I have not given them myself for such a long, long time.
They have received snippets of the intense love that I have for them and I have seen them soak it up like a person thirsting for water in the desert, and then I feel myself withdrawing from them and I see them feeling that withdrawal and it makes me want to scream at myself in anger and sob my heart out for taking away what is rightfully theirs.
I need for them to understand that I don't stop loving them - ever, but that I don't always have the strength to show them that love because it makes me so very sad for reasons that I don't truly understand. Surely after having lost 2 children I would want to smother my 2 living children with all the love in my heart? Why don't I? What makes me stop? Why do I not want to let them believe Mummy's love can make everything okay? Why am I so determined to ensure that if I were gone tomorrow that their pain wouldn't be so intense? Why can't I just live in the moment and not be so "real"?
I have watched my oldest child suffer the loss of 2 siblings. She is an extra sensitive soul and she has felt the grief of both losses enormously, even though she was only 21 months when she lost her baby sister and almost 7 when she lost her baby brother. She has an awareness and wisdom way beyond her years and it's not fair that she has had to feel all this pain. Part of my feelings of being a failure as a Mum is tied to the fact that I could not protect her from this pain and that I was in fact instrumental in it - I know that's not rational, but emotions rarely are.
She hasn't been sleeping well for weeks and in my heart I feel that it is tied to her grief, and I know that I am the only person who can help her find a way to deal with it, but I just don't feel strong enough to go there with her - again my sense of failure as a mother.
Just yesterday, I looked around at my home and realised that I am surrounded by piles of "I can't deal with that right now". As a person who likes to have a place for everything and everything in it's place I haven't been true to myself for a long time. Normally, when an event happens I deal with the emotion, release it, learn from it and move on. I haven't been able to do that with Joshua and my home is a true reflection of my emotional state.
I look around at toys and clothes and mess on the floor and piles of boxes in various rooms and think to myself "Oh my God, it's just too much... it's just too hard... it's too painful (on my back)... it's so overwhelming... where do I start... I've only just realised (as I've typed this) that my home is reflecting my grief.
Every few weeks I spend a day tidying up and it feels so good to be able to see the carpet and see things in place but I never seem to have the energy or motivation to keep going until it is all done. I don't actually know if tidying my home will help start my healing or starting my healing with help tidy my home.
Sometimes when people visit I think to myself "What do you actually think of me and the way I keep my home?" but I don't really care about the answer, other times I can feel a voice screaming in my head "Can't you see that I can't do this on my own - why can't you see that I need help?" I don't really believe that anyone can help me, I believe that only I can take the steps necessary to start my healing, but I think I just need acknowledgement of my pain.
Why? Why should I need people to acknowledge my suffering and pain? Everyone has their own burden to bear. Mine is no greater, or lesser, than the next person. What is it exactly that I need to start my journey of healing? Why am I so stuck in this pain?
Oh boy - this hasn't really helped today. I'm sure I'll have to do more soul searching very soon, but right now I need a break. Thanks for caring enough to read this - you are instrumental in my healing. Hugs. Dionnne.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Overwhelming sadness!
It amazes me how this sadness comes out from nowhere! I woke up this morning with a very sore back and by 3pm I was soooo very down.
All morning my girls were, as usual, keeping themselves amused - watching TV, dressing up like fairies, playing Tinkerbell and Queen Amethyst which was naturally followed by a fairy tea party. The tea party consisted of chocolate and custard "fondude" (fondue!) on a picnic blanket in the TV room.
I spent the morning packing up some Christmas decorations and unpacking my every day decor which had been packed in the Christmas boxes. Almost everything I unpacked made me think of my angels in heaven - Joshua and Cara. I had statues of angels given to me on special occassions in their name, angels given to me on their special occassions, Josh's remembrance candles, Cara's butterflies.
When we lived in Canberra I had a butterfly wall - I collected a butterfly for every occassion that Cara missed in our lives... soooo many butterflies already! Since losing Joshua I haven't been able to find the right spot for my butterfly wall, feeling somehow that it would be unfair to have a wall in remembrance of Cara and nothing for Joshua.
Last year was probably the hardest year of my life. I've always managed to truly celebrate Cara's birthday and so I felt it was only right that I do the same for Joshua and so after celebrating Cara's 6th birthday in July we celebrated Joshua's 1st birthday in September.
Oh my God! How hard it is to find the strength to turn yet another day of sadness into something positive for me and my darling husband and most importantly my girls. For Cara's 1st birthday I held my first fundraiser workshop and it was so well attended - it was such a fitting tribute to my angel.
A simple lunch was planned for Joshua's 1st birthday, more for Amy than for anyone else. I convinced Amy that it would be best to keep it small, inviting only those who were closest to us, not knowing how I would be emotionally. Sadly not many people turned up, and that in itself made me soooo very sad. What I hoped would be a huge "celebration" of the many lives that my son had touched during his short life, turned out to be a reminder that most people don't really want to remember - too much sadness I think. I was ever so grateful to those who did join us, as it would have been an even sadder day if they hadn't come.
All you mothers out there who have lost infants as a result of miscarriage, stillbirth or neonatal death are probably the only ones who understand how much importance we place on other people remembering our lost babes. With every phone call or conversation I have with someone who lets me know that they have been thinking of Joshua or that their child has spoken of him out of the blue, a bit of the sadness in my heart is replaced with comfort. "Comfort" because that's one more person, outside of my immediate family, who has remembered my darling son.
And yet I still receive comments like "at least you have 2 beautiful, healthy daughters when some people can't have any children". It takes all the strength within me to smile at them and say "Yes, you're right" when all I want to do is scream at them and say "They are so much better off never knowing how much it hurts to lose a life that has grown inside you for months".
I wish that having my beautiful, healthy daughters was enough to take away the pain of losing 2 children, but it doesn't. If anything it magnifies it, because every time I see the dawn of a new aspect of their relationship with each other, it makes me wonder how different it would have been had their been another child in the mix or even another two.
Every time my darling girls fall over or have a rash or develop a cough I feel myself withdrawing from them emotionally because I can't help wondering if this is the start of the end - is God going to take yet another of my children away from me? I used to think, after losing Cara, "Okay, I have a lesson to learn and something to give to others from this experience... this is my cross to bear and I must learn to use it in the best way possible."
After losing Joshua I was dumbfounded and shattered. I felt that I had done so much soul searching and healing and growing after losing Cara. I couldn't believe that there was still more pain and suffering that I had to go through and that it had to be done through the loss of another child. I was angry with God for so many months after Joshua's death. It was only just before last Christmas (2009) that my anger finally subsided. Why, I don't know. Maybe I just got tired of being angry.
I have to say that my relationship with my God is at it's weakest at this point in my life. I always thank him for what he has given me, but it's been a very long time since I have asked him for anything. I know he is there and I know he is waiting for me to ask for his help, but I'm not ready for that yet.
I have been blessed with a very special friend, Maryanne - a gorgeous Samoan woman whose spirituality oozes from every pore, she is truly beautiful in every sense of the word. I feel that I used to be like her, I wore my spirituality on my sleeve for all to see. Right now, I don't even know what I believe in any more and so I hide my spirituality away, only allowing a select few people in my life to see that side of me.
Right now I'm not a very nice person to be around - I'm negative and angry and grumpy and soooo very, very sad all the time. I feel like the real me is buried deep within and what the world sees is just the hard shell of the person that I used to be.
Lightbulb moment!!! Maybe (fingers crossed!) I'm in my cocoon, waiting for the right time to emerge as a proud and regal butterfly ready to share my inherent beauty with the world. I think this caterpillar has started shedding some layers of skin though - I've spent weeks and weeks and weeks cleaning out my home. It has been such a reflection of the way I've felt inside - the downstairs has been relatively well presented but my no means welcoming (a bit like my exterior self) and the upstairs has been in a constant state of chaos (a bit like my interior self).
Over the last few weeks I've felt a renewed interest in making my home a reflection of the real me and it's actually starting to come together, bit by bit.
Well, as always, writing has been cathartic and I am feeling so much more at peace. My eyes are no longer overflowing with tears and the words are no longer pouring out, so it's time to say goodnight. Goodnight.
All morning my girls were, as usual, keeping themselves amused - watching TV, dressing up like fairies, playing Tinkerbell and Queen Amethyst which was naturally followed by a fairy tea party. The tea party consisted of chocolate and custard "fondude" (fondue!) on a picnic blanket in the TV room.
I spent the morning packing up some Christmas decorations and unpacking my every day decor which had been packed in the Christmas boxes. Almost everything I unpacked made me think of my angels in heaven - Joshua and Cara. I had statues of angels given to me on special occassions in their name, angels given to me on their special occassions, Josh's remembrance candles, Cara's butterflies.
When we lived in Canberra I had a butterfly wall - I collected a butterfly for every occassion that Cara missed in our lives... soooo many butterflies already! Since losing Joshua I haven't been able to find the right spot for my butterfly wall, feeling somehow that it would be unfair to have a wall in remembrance of Cara and nothing for Joshua.
Last year was probably the hardest year of my life. I've always managed to truly celebrate Cara's birthday and so I felt it was only right that I do the same for Joshua and so after celebrating Cara's 6th birthday in July we celebrated Joshua's 1st birthday in September.
Oh my God! How hard it is to find the strength to turn yet another day of sadness into something positive for me and my darling husband and most importantly my girls. For Cara's 1st birthday I held my first fundraiser workshop and it was so well attended - it was such a fitting tribute to my angel.
A simple lunch was planned for Joshua's 1st birthday, more for Amy than for anyone else. I convinced Amy that it would be best to keep it small, inviting only those who were closest to us, not knowing how I would be emotionally. Sadly not many people turned up, and that in itself made me soooo very sad. What I hoped would be a huge "celebration" of the many lives that my son had touched during his short life, turned out to be a reminder that most people don't really want to remember - too much sadness I think. I was ever so grateful to those who did join us, as it would have been an even sadder day if they hadn't come.
All you mothers out there who have lost infants as a result of miscarriage, stillbirth or neonatal death are probably the only ones who understand how much importance we place on other people remembering our lost babes. With every phone call or conversation I have with someone who lets me know that they have been thinking of Joshua or that their child has spoken of him out of the blue, a bit of the sadness in my heart is replaced with comfort. "Comfort" because that's one more person, outside of my immediate family, who has remembered my darling son.
And yet I still receive comments like "at least you have 2 beautiful, healthy daughters when some people can't have any children". It takes all the strength within me to smile at them and say "Yes, you're right" when all I want to do is scream at them and say "They are so much better off never knowing how much it hurts to lose a life that has grown inside you for months".
I wish that having my beautiful, healthy daughters was enough to take away the pain of losing 2 children, but it doesn't. If anything it magnifies it, because every time I see the dawn of a new aspect of their relationship with each other, it makes me wonder how different it would have been had their been another child in the mix or even another two.
Every time my darling girls fall over or have a rash or develop a cough I feel myself withdrawing from them emotionally because I can't help wondering if this is the start of the end - is God going to take yet another of my children away from me? I used to think, after losing Cara, "Okay, I have a lesson to learn and something to give to others from this experience... this is my cross to bear and I must learn to use it in the best way possible."
After losing Joshua I was dumbfounded and shattered. I felt that I had done so much soul searching and healing and growing after losing Cara. I couldn't believe that there was still more pain and suffering that I had to go through and that it had to be done through the loss of another child. I was angry with God for so many months after Joshua's death. It was only just before last Christmas (2009) that my anger finally subsided. Why, I don't know. Maybe I just got tired of being angry.
I have to say that my relationship with my God is at it's weakest at this point in my life. I always thank him for what he has given me, but it's been a very long time since I have asked him for anything. I know he is there and I know he is waiting for me to ask for his help, but I'm not ready for that yet.
I have been blessed with a very special friend, Maryanne - a gorgeous Samoan woman whose spirituality oozes from every pore, she is truly beautiful in every sense of the word. I feel that I used to be like her, I wore my spirituality on my sleeve for all to see. Right now, I don't even know what I believe in any more and so I hide my spirituality away, only allowing a select few people in my life to see that side of me.
Right now I'm not a very nice person to be around - I'm negative and angry and grumpy and soooo very, very sad all the time. I feel like the real me is buried deep within and what the world sees is just the hard shell of the person that I used to be.
Lightbulb moment!!! Maybe (fingers crossed!) I'm in my cocoon, waiting for the right time to emerge as a proud and regal butterfly ready to share my inherent beauty with the world. I think this caterpillar has started shedding some layers of skin though - I've spent weeks and weeks and weeks cleaning out my home. It has been such a reflection of the way I've felt inside - the downstairs has been relatively well presented but my no means welcoming (a bit like my exterior self) and the upstairs has been in a constant state of chaos (a bit like my interior self).
Over the last few weeks I've felt a renewed interest in making my home a reflection of the real me and it's actually starting to come together, bit by bit.
Well, as always, writing has been cathartic and I am feeling so much more at peace. My eyes are no longer overflowing with tears and the words are no longer pouring out, so it's time to say goodnight. Goodnight.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Inevitable!
I knew it would happen... in a way I've been waiting... actually it would be truer to say that I've been running and running and running faster and faster and faster, hoping that I can outrun it, hoping that I never have to visit this grim, dark place ever again but knowing that will never be the case.
The school fair was last Sunday and the wrap-up has taken most of the week and today, except for the thankyou notes and the minutes from the final meeting I am finished. After almost 2 weeks I was given the opportunity to once again sit and watch and enjoy my children here on earth being children and being sisters and knowing that I have helped to create the very special bond they share.
And my heart aches because there are 2 children missing and it's not fair! and it will never be fair! and I will never truly understand why it had to be me! No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself and no I'm not searching for reasons... I just don't understand and I guess I never will and I'm sure I will periodically suffer through these periods of this agonising sense of unfair loss.
For weeks now I have buried myself in the organisation of the school fair and I have so loved every minute of it. I have worked with an amazingly positive group of women who have taught me so much about myself - about what I want out of life and what I want for my children and what I want out of friendships and what I want my children to see and remember in their mother.
I have connected with a beautiful woman who seems so much like me that it scares me and who has married a man so much like Jeremy it's almost comical. I sense her fear of being close to one single friend. I feel the wall that goes up every so often to remind me that there will always be a certain safe distance kept between us. Sometimes that wall goes down for an extremely brief moment and I feel the beauty of being allowed into her sacred space and I feel so safe and nurtured in that space and I want to stay there forever but the wall returns. But I am content with just hanging around for those glimpses, sometimes feeling that maybe all I'm seeing is a mirror of myself.
Then there's the gorgeous woman who is my soul sister. The spiritual connection was instantaneous and so very strong and I feel the same connection with her beautiful children. It is truly quite amazing to not know someone at all and to feel such a deep bond at the same time.
I think of all the insights I've witnessed into relationships and power struggles and lack of communication and the trivial issues that people focus on when they are unable to see or face up to their true emotions. I've forgotten that my outside world is a reflection of my inner person, I've forgotten to take notice of the lessons that life is trying to teach me.
Yesterday at playgroup I held a baby boy who is 1 month older that my Joshua would have been. Oh how glorious it felt to hold him and talk to him and to watch Charlotte's reaction to him.
Tonight I watch a taped episode of Grey's Anatomy where a young boy was dying waiting for organ donations and I witnessed the point where the boy's mother, instead of begging and pleading for him to stay, finally reached the point where she was ready to let him go and the memory of losing my precious son came flooding back to the forefront of my mind.
The overwhelming emotion and gut wrenching pain I experienced was quite an unexpected shock and I felt the need to come and write in his blog. I wondered if maybe I gave up too easily on him, maybe I should have fought harder for the doctors to keep him alive, maybe I should have fought harder for them to transfer me to a hospital where they had facilities for premmie babies. I've heard of miracles happening, maybe I should have prayed harder and fought harder for one for us.
I wasn't strong enough to elect to fight. I didn't want to fight for months only to lose him anyway. I was too tired. I didn't have the energy or the will to fight, I only had the energy to ask my son to not struggle for my sake. If I had begged him not to leave me would he have fought to stay alive? Is that all that was required? Could I have saved Amy all the pain of losing another sibling if I had elected to fight for my son's life? Was it a test to see how much I wanted him?
Oh my God!!! How I wanted him! How I ache for him everyday of my life. I spend so much more time in the garden these days, at home and at Amy's school, because I feel like he is right beside me when I'm out there. I can hear him giggling and cooing and caressing my face and I can sense my darling Dad there too with his daughter Narelle and my daughter Cara and my cousin Evan. There are too many of them up there!! Way too many!
I will probably wake up tomorrow and get on with life, because I have to for the sake of my living children but in every step I make and every breath I take my heart will ache for my Joshua and my Cara. I bought a beautiful angel candle holder a few weeks ago and lit it for the first time yesterday and as I watched the flame flicker I felt my angel babies with their arms around my neck assuring me that they were never far away.
Tomorrow I return to Canberra to join in a 50th birthday celebration for a very dear friend. I return to Melbourne late Sunday evening and so I don't get to see my darling daughters (or my own mother) on the official Mother's Day but I believe that's what I need this year. I need to go and visit my Cara and be with her because the last few months have been all about Joshua.
I think I might be able to sleep now and there is so much to do tomorrow morning I really must. Goodnight my angels, goodnight anyone reading this blog. xxxxxx
The school fair was last Sunday and the wrap-up has taken most of the week and today, except for the thankyou notes and the minutes from the final meeting I am finished. After almost 2 weeks I was given the opportunity to once again sit and watch and enjoy my children here on earth being children and being sisters and knowing that I have helped to create the very special bond they share.
And my heart aches because there are 2 children missing and it's not fair! and it will never be fair! and I will never truly understand why it had to be me! No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself and no I'm not searching for reasons... I just don't understand and I guess I never will and I'm sure I will periodically suffer through these periods of this agonising sense of unfair loss.
For weeks now I have buried myself in the organisation of the school fair and I have so loved every minute of it. I have worked with an amazingly positive group of women who have taught me so much about myself - about what I want out of life and what I want for my children and what I want out of friendships and what I want my children to see and remember in their mother.
I have connected with a beautiful woman who seems so much like me that it scares me and who has married a man so much like Jeremy it's almost comical. I sense her fear of being close to one single friend. I feel the wall that goes up every so often to remind me that there will always be a certain safe distance kept between us. Sometimes that wall goes down for an extremely brief moment and I feel the beauty of being allowed into her sacred space and I feel so safe and nurtured in that space and I want to stay there forever but the wall returns. But I am content with just hanging around for those glimpses, sometimes feeling that maybe all I'm seeing is a mirror of myself.
Then there's the gorgeous woman who is my soul sister. The spiritual connection was instantaneous and so very strong and I feel the same connection with her beautiful children. It is truly quite amazing to not know someone at all and to feel such a deep bond at the same time.
I think of all the insights I've witnessed into relationships and power struggles and lack of communication and the trivial issues that people focus on when they are unable to see or face up to their true emotions. I've forgotten that my outside world is a reflection of my inner person, I've forgotten to take notice of the lessons that life is trying to teach me.
Yesterday at playgroup I held a baby boy who is 1 month older that my Joshua would have been. Oh how glorious it felt to hold him and talk to him and to watch Charlotte's reaction to him.
Tonight I watch a taped episode of Grey's Anatomy where a young boy was dying waiting for organ donations and I witnessed the point where the boy's mother, instead of begging and pleading for him to stay, finally reached the point where she was ready to let him go and the memory of losing my precious son came flooding back to the forefront of my mind.
The overwhelming emotion and gut wrenching pain I experienced was quite an unexpected shock and I felt the need to come and write in his blog. I wondered if maybe I gave up too easily on him, maybe I should have fought harder for the doctors to keep him alive, maybe I should have fought harder for them to transfer me to a hospital where they had facilities for premmie babies. I've heard of miracles happening, maybe I should have prayed harder and fought harder for one for us.
I wasn't strong enough to elect to fight. I didn't want to fight for months only to lose him anyway. I was too tired. I didn't have the energy or the will to fight, I only had the energy to ask my son to not struggle for my sake. If I had begged him not to leave me would he have fought to stay alive? Is that all that was required? Could I have saved Amy all the pain of losing another sibling if I had elected to fight for my son's life? Was it a test to see how much I wanted him?
Oh my God!!! How I wanted him! How I ache for him everyday of my life. I spend so much more time in the garden these days, at home and at Amy's school, because I feel like he is right beside me when I'm out there. I can hear him giggling and cooing and caressing my face and I can sense my darling Dad there too with his daughter Narelle and my daughter Cara and my cousin Evan. There are too many of them up there!! Way too many!
I will probably wake up tomorrow and get on with life, because I have to for the sake of my living children but in every step I make and every breath I take my heart will ache for my Joshua and my Cara. I bought a beautiful angel candle holder a few weeks ago and lit it for the first time yesterday and as I watched the flame flicker I felt my angel babies with their arms around my neck assuring me that they were never far away.
Tomorrow I return to Canberra to join in a 50th birthday celebration for a very dear friend. I return to Melbourne late Sunday evening and so I don't get to see my darling daughters (or my own mother) on the official Mother's Day but I believe that's what I need this year. I need to go and visit my Cara and be with her because the last few months have been all about Joshua.
I think I might be able to sleep now and there is so much to do tomorrow morning I really must. Goodnight my angels, goodnight anyone reading this blog. xxxxxx
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