I don't know how, but this year is worse....

This year is the fifth Christmas without Bridger and the second without Finleigh.  How is it then, that I can feel so badly?  This is not new...we didn't just lose them.....they have been gone....for years, YEARS now.  But my heart is aching, more than aching it is pierced and I feel like everything is pouring out.  Christmas eve was bittersweet.  Christmas was almost unbearable.  I woke up and went to mass to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.  Instead, I spent most of the service trying not to cry uncontrollably.  My skin was crawling, I wanted to peel it off so that I didn't have to feel the discomfort all over my body.  I spoke with one of the other people in my parish, he lost an infant daughter 38 years ago and still, his eyes became tearful.  38 years.... he said after about 15 years it didn't hurt quite as badly. This pain is everywhere.... I calmed myself enough to drive home.  Danny and I went to Village Inn for breakfast and I couldn't even hold a thought.  I felt like I was being sucked into a vacuum and I had no desire to try and make my way out of it.  But it didn't suck me in, not all the way.  Maybe that would have felt better.  Panic was surging through my body, I wanted out....I needed out.  I wanted to run away from everyone and everything.  I didn't want to feel this way anymore.  I took Danny home, went to the cemetery and then went out driving for a while.  The quiet and slow movement of the snow helped, it calmed my mind.  From there, I was able to go through the rest of the day in a functional state.

Then today happened.  I woke up, again feeling overwhelmed with the ache, the weight pulling me down.  Again, I feel to weak to fight it.  I am trying, but my soul is weary.  I don't understand, last year I seemed to do okay.  Maybe this is just in my head...maybe I have blocked it out because it was indeed just as difficult as this year has been.  I don't know....do you?  The goal is to get through this day....the pain will subside....I just have to ride it out...this too shall pass.....right?

Merry Christmas.......and tender mercies

Since the year after Bridger died, my sister-in-law has invited us to spend Christmas Eve with them watching a movie and eating snacks.  They have 5 children, the youngest of whom is Bridger's age.  They have always been so good to take us in as their own.  They offer a comfortable environment, no expectations, no judgements.  This year is the fourth year we have joined them in their family tradition.  We were watching the movie.  I was laying on the floor in front of the television when their youngest came to lay next to me.  She snuggled right up and looked at me and said "you can't see from down here, come sit with me".  Now I love to snuggle my nieces and nephews, but I try not to smother them all of the time and that is why I stayed on the floor until she asked me to sit with her.  We moved to the couch and she snuggled up again.  She had her doll that she made sure to cover with her blanket.  She grabbed my hand to hold and said "oh, you are cold, do you need a blanket too?".  I told her no, that I was okay.  She continued to hold my hand.  As we watched the rest of the movie, she would whisper different thoughts to me.  After the movie was over, she said she had something to show me.  She ran up to her room and hurried back down to me with a letter from one of Santa's elves addressed to her.  As she read it excitedly to me, I began to cry.  This sweet little girl so full of love and life and hope was sharing a little of her joy with me.  As tears ran down my cheeks, the oldest daughter came and sat next to me and held my hand.  I put my head on her shoulder and continued to silently cry.  These are the moments that families cherish.  And we are so blessed to be allowed in to this family's memories.  Though part of my tears were from missing my sweet babies, the other part were from the love that I was shown tonight.  On this Christmas Eve, I am so grateful for all who have been part of my life.  For all who have loved me and all who have allowed me to love them.

Merry Christmas my sweet Bridger and Finleigh!  We love you!!!

Happy birthday sweet boy!!!!

Bridger's sixth birthday was yesterday.  Oh I can just imagine how he celebrated.  Maybe he ate chocolate cake, maybe he wanted ice cream, maybe he saved some for us.  I wonder if he let his little sister help blow out his candles.  I bet his grandparents, who are already up there, threw him the best sixth birthday a boy could ask for!  Well my sweet little man, we celebrated your birth down here too.  We had cake, Myla and Nora blew out your candles and we all sang happy birthday.  Mommy and daddy love you sooooo much!

Is it that time again?

     My heart has felt heavy for a little over a week and I have been trying to figure out what the cause may be.  I feel like one of the reasons is that my grandmother is not doing well and will not be on earth for much longer.  After losing my grandfather in May, this is a hard pill to swallow.  Although I will miss her dearly, I am comforted knowing that she will be free from her failing body when she goes.

     The last two days the heaviness has increased along with heightened frustration and extreme exhaustion.  I sat in the bath tonight, and thought about the possibilities, when it struck..... next week is Bridger's 5 year angel day.  Just in case that thought didn't sink in, the next song to play on my phone is the song I sang at Bridger's funeral.  It makes me sick just thinking about it right now, my hands are shaky and I am having trouble concentrating.  I can't go back to old posts to check (it is too painful) and I know that I face this each year, but it seems like this anniversary it hitting me a few days sooner that the past four have.

    This is the year that the government will reassign his social security number.  This might seem like it shouldn't be such a big deal, but it is to me.  It is just something else to be taken away.  Let's add to the stack of watching his first steps, taking him to kindergarten or swim lessons or grandma's house.  It hurts my heart.....

     I just want to climb in my bed and hide.  I don't want to face the world right now.  It hurts, it aches, this emptiness in my heart.

    Five years......not the milestone I was hoping to celebrate so many years ago.  I don't even know what milestone we would have been celebrating if he had lived.  Do kids already know how to ride their bikes by 6 years old?  Would he be having sleepovers?  Would he still hug me goodbye when I dropped him off at school?  These are answers I will not have here on earth and at times it makes me mad or jealous and, often, just plain sad.

     Yes, I am sad. I miss my babies....I miss their sweet smiles.  I have their pictures all over our house, but nothing compares to the real thing.  I miss the warmth of their sweet heads on my cheek.  I miss noticing how different they were from each other, but in so many ways the same.  I miss staring at them with Danny and pointing out to each other what traits they picked up from one of us.

    I miss them.  I miss what I dreamed would be for our family, for life as a mommy and daddy.  I miss the hope for that future.....

     Bridger and Finleigh, mommy misses you and loves you

so much (daddy does too!).....blowing kisses to you both......

a hard lesson......

For a long time now, I have been praying for patience and compassion and humility.  I feel that if I could get better at using these traits I could be a better person.  Well, recently I failed......

The story.....in reverse.....

Today we celebrated the life of my sweet grandfather Brig.  He died on Saturday May 24 at 3:00 am.  We brought him home from the hospital on Thursday May 22 after finding out Wednesday that he had leukemia.

This is the part where I let him down.  For a few weeks leading up to these moments he began calling more frequently saying that he was sick.  I would ask what was wrong and instruct him to do this or that and we would be okay for a day or two.  He began telling the family how sick he was and they would call me (because I am a nurse) and I would say that he seemed to be fine and that it might just be in his head.  In these last couple of weeks I became more impatient and frustrated.  I did not know how to help him and he did not know what help he needed.  He just wanted me there....

12 days ago he became very weak and had difficulty breathing.  He finally consented to go to the hospital and we called an ambulance.  The emergency team came and he refused to go.  I was very frustrated, I would even say angry.  I was at a loss and did not know how to help him.  Later that day, his dog died.  I went back over to console him and then went home.  He called again that night very upset and was worried that he was going to die.  I went back over, talked with him and asked him why.  He didn't know, he thought he would die that night and was worried about my grandma being taken care of.  I assured him that everything would be okay.

I called first thing the next morning, in case he really did die.  He answered and said that yesterday was just a hard day and that he was very confused.  He apologized for worrying everyone.  I stopped by later to check in and because I thought his "sickness" was an attention seeking behavior I did not ask him how he felt.  I went back to work.  I did not call him or stop by at all over the weekend.  I was "retraining" the behavior.....

Monday, May 19, I went over to see them.  He was still weak, but seemed okay.  I was talking to both of them about moving to assisted living because they needed more help.  He wasn't thrilled.  I left.

Wednesday, May 21, I received a call that he was sick and wanted to go to the hospital.  The same emergency team came to the house.  I spoke with the paramedic over the phone, he said that grandpa looked the same as last week but they would still take him to get checked out.  Two minutes later, I received another call that he had "bottomed out" and instead of going to the VA hospital would be taken to the nearest ER.

I arrived at the ER and he didn't look good.  The nurse thought he had a GI bleed because his color was so bad.  This is the beginning of my guilt... I am a nurse....how could I not see something as simple as a GI bleed?  The doctor checked....no bleed.  An hour or so later, the doctor came back and said that the bloodwork showed a strong indication of leukemia.  My grandpa did not want curative treatment so it was decided that they would admit him for the night, give him a blood transfusion and we would bring him home on hospice the next day.

When I left him that afternoon, he began to cry.  He did not want to die in the hospital.  I promised we would bring him home.  The next morning I arrived at the hospital.  The blood transfusion did not help at all.  He was so weak, he could barely stay awake for more than 30 seconds at a time.  We got him home later that day.

Friday was hard.  He was having difficulty breathing and was confused and agitated because of it.  It was hard.  Saturday morning, I got the call, he was gone.

Now let's go back to my earlier years......

After I graduated high school and while I was going to nursing school I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.  Almost everyday.  When I began working as a nurse, I still saw them at least three times a week.  We were close.  My grandpa and I worked in the yard together, we built furniture together.  Our dogs played together.

When I had Bridger, I think I only saw my grandpa twice the entire year that Bridger was alive.  I never left the hospital.  Then Bridger died and I pulled away from most of my family......he was patient.....he didn't give me a hard time for not coming around.....he was just glad to see me when I did.  After Finleigh died, I began to see them a little more.  I missed him...

At Christmas time, my grandma got sick and was admitted to hospice.  I was her nurse so I was at their house frequently.  We began to get back to our old selves.  Talking about gardening and the dogs.  Planning our spring planting, etc.

That catches up to where we started.  He began saying that he was sick and needed help....I became frustrated.  I was being a brat!

He was so patient when I needed time to be alone.  He waited....he understood.

When he needed me most, I was impatient and judgemental.  I wanted him to do things how I wanted him to do them.  His last weeks alive, he needed me.  He needed me to love him and support him and I couldn't see past my own selfishness to know that.

Now people come up to me and say what a blessing I was to him and it makes me feel even worse.  I know that he knows that I love him, but I feel awful that on my own I was so frustrated and "put out".  I was his best friend and I turned away.  He only needed love and I gave skepticism.  So much for the patience and compassion that I was praying for, the going got tough and I gave in.

Now remember that this is my space.  I don't write this because I want reassurance that I "am a good granddaughter" or that I am compassionate and patient.  I write this because I have to let it out.....I feel like I let him down....and I can't fix it with him.  I will carry this lesson forward, but I cannot change the things I have done.  There is not much regret in my life, but this situation is definately up there in my top few.  It is something I will have to work through on my own and with God.

Grandpa I am so sorry! I love you soooo much!  I am grateful that my babies can be with you until I see you all again.  I hope that you show them all of the things that you showed me.

What goes up.....must come down......

Last weekend was a really good weekend.  Other than when my kids were alive, I have not been able to say "really good" in more than 6 years.  When I say "really good" it means that I was out in my garden working, singing to the radio, enjoying the sunshine and smiling without trying.  It felt good.

Throughout this "really good weekend"  I began having more flashbacks than I have had in a while.  Most of my flashbacks are of Bridger's time here on earth.  Flashbacks about the way his worn out body looked each time he crashed.  Flashbacks about the doctors telling us to take our smiling and playful son home to die.  Flashbacks about Texas, his changes, his death.  I have flashbacks about Finleigh too, but they are not nearly as many traumatic (probably because she only lived 18 days and we didn't even expect her to live that long).  I do still feel the sting of her death, I recount holding her to my chest those last hours, knowing what was coming.

I continued my high of this "really good weekend" into the beginning of the week.  My flashbacks increased.  Wednesday I started to come down.  I think we have talked before about my being cautious and trying to stay as even as I can because the higher that my mood will lift, the further my sadness and emptiness can fall.  Now, I am more functional these days than I have been these past 5 years, I think I am just getting more in shape to be able to carry some of this weight.  But sometimes, my mind or my heart gives me a little reminder that I am not as tough as I think I am.  And here we are.....The low......

This is not a low where I cannot get out of bed or where my eyes are swollen from tears.  This is a low that makes me feel like things are so fast yet in slow motion at the same time.  A low where I feel spacey and unfocused when before I have been frantic and irritable.  This is a new low, a more subdued low.  It is amazing that just when you think you are used to something, it changes.  Isn't this the story of life?

Well we will see how this weekend goes.......

I am going to go eat some fresh strawberries and ice cream with Danny...

Mommy loves you my sweet babies!!!!!!

Her last breath.....

Right now it is 4:59 pm, in one minute it will have been 1 year since our baby girl took her last breath on this earth.  She was lying on my chest and just moments before, Danny walked into the room, she let out a small sigh and was gone.

I didn't want to let her go.  With Bridger, I layed with him for several hours before Danny was able to get to us from Utah.  When he arrived, Bridger's body was discolored, but I didn't notice.  Even holding her, I didn't notice.  It wasn't until our Hospice nurse arrived and pointed out that her skin was changing that we became aware of it.  We bathed her one more time and dressed her in clean clothes and called the mortuary. Around 7:00 pm I layed her in the back of a minivan and she was taken to the mortuary.

As I was thinking back on this day one year ago, it made me realize how grateful I was that Danny was there with us.  Grateful that he was able to see how peacefully she left.  Grateful that he had held her earlier that day and gave her kisses on her sweet skin.  We knew it was coming.  There were even moments throughout the day when she was struggling that we prayed for God to take her home.  Don't try to imagine how that feels.  You might think of what pain that may cause, but at the time we knew that she needed to go and we didn't want her to suffer longer because we were not ready.  We were not ready, but as many of you know you don't have to be ready for things to still happen.

For her diagnosis, without surgical intervention the average life span is 8 days.  Finleigh lived 18 days.  Just the fact that she was born alive was a miracle (Bridger was not breathing at birth).  Her 18 days were filled with love and tears.  We absorbed every possible detail about her.  Our sassy redheaded girl made an impression.

My sweet little love, we miss you so.  Mommy and Daddy love you!

PS- be nice to your big brother