I realize that it has been a while since i have been around and blogging regularly. I apologize for that. *sound of crickets chirping loudly* So many things fill my days. Laughter, tears, anger and more.
Today i read about a fellow mommy blogger (Kate) and her grief. If you have not read it, it is here, but be warned anyone with emotions or children it will cause tears…alot of them.
I don’t know Kate personally and i will never say that i understand her grief or feel her pain because no one ever can. Even if you have lost a child you know somewhat of what she and her family are going through, but everyone is different. Every grief is different. I know this because i have lost in my life and reading (i couldn’t help it i had to read the journey she went on) about her family’s trials i am reminded that my dad has gone through a similar thing in his life. I have gone through life knowing what it feels like to lose a sibling, but not really knowing. I think there is a difference when you spend time with one as they are growing and lose them then when they never get the chance to come home.
Lately with all of the doctors and hospitals that Ian and I have gone to, our own journey together, forging a bond together amid the doctors and surgeons and antiseptic, i am feeling a bit fragile. Emotionally and mentally weary.
Is this what my dad went through? Is this what made him the person he is today? My dad is strong, undeniably the strongest person i have ever met. Not in physical aspects, but in his ability to withstand emotional and mental onslaughts for the longest time. My dad is the glue that holds together my whole family.
When i was seven, my mom had my sister, Cindy. I never knew her, she never came home from the hospital. There was a period of time that my sister and i were looked after by our neighbors while my parents became wards of the N.I.C.U. . My sister and i to this day do not know what was the problem or what really happened. I know that my parents came home and were never the same people. I know that during this time that my sister was here, my mother herself had been ill. Something that she did not feel with the mind numbing grief she was experiencing due to my sister and her sickness. I know that back then things weren’t as they are now in regards to taking care of both mother and infant and that things were overlooked in my mother that could of saved her. I know that shortly after i lost my sister i lost my mother.
I owe it all to grief.
I know that my mother loved my sister and i more than anything in the world. I cannot fathom her grief when Cindy lost her battle with life. I know that it was overwhelming to her and that despite their best efforts the doctors could not save her life. I know as a mother i cannot imagine a world without my children, any of them. I know that a picture was taken of Cindy at her birth and that was the healthiest she looked. I cannot look at the picture, it looks so much like my boys.
I know that my father never recovered from the grief of losing his wife and daughter all in the same month. My sister and i also never really got over it either.
I cannot bring myself to leave Kate a comment because everything i have to say sounds so inadequate and dumb. I want her to know that i do, as a mother, feel for her and her family. I cry for her and for all the mothers that have had a loss. I will never say i understand where she is, but i commend her bravery for putting it out there for all of us to read. She has a tremendous way with words and i ache for what she has lost.
I learned early not to take life for granted. I learned early to be strong. I was never prepared to be a mother though and all the emotions that come with it. I worry constantly, there is never a break, even when they are all safe in their beds. I take up vigil beside them when they are sick and forgo sleep to watch them breath. I am grateful for every breath they pull, laugh they make and tear they cry because they are alive. I silently grieve that my mother is not a part of their lives and that i do not remember much about her to share her with them. I feel small beside them when first J then I spent countless hours in the hospital.
I have found that i am my father’s daughter and i am strong when faced with these trials, but i am human and i do cry. Alot. I ache. I scream. I forget to be nice and yell. I feel guilty. I feel loved.
Mostly lately I just feel.