Bad day

Yesterday, I had a bad day.

Not because of Abby. Not because of Emily. Not because of any particular problem.

I had a bad day because life can just be hard and I don't do it well sometimes.

We woke up good. We had plenty of time to get ready for church. Everything should have gone fine, except about 40 minutes after I said its time to get moving, I noticed no one had moved. At all.

Something bad happens in my brain when so many perfectly capable people in one house can not manage to drag themselves around long enough to put clothing on. I start yelling. I irritate everyone enough to make them move, which adds another layer to my irritation. Why should I have to turn into a maniac to get my not-babies-anymore family out the door?

I angrily grab my earring to finish getting ready and can't get it clasped in back. I fight with it long enough to stab my finger, bleed, stop the bleeding and finally get it done in time to have my husband casually walk in and ask why I'm not finished yet.

Now I'm breathing every single breath slowly through my nose, as I remain calm solely to get out the door.

I walk to the living room to see Emily sitting crooked in her wheel chair looking like one of those troll doll pencils I used to twirl between my palms as a kid. Hannah and Sarah are siting like nothing in the world is wrong. I double take on Sarah, who I realize has pulled her natty vacation hair back into a scraggly Rastafarian type pony tail. Um, no. Get a brush. Now!




I brush, wash, coat, and shoe Emily, just in time yell again that we need to go.
Emily thinks it's very funny for me to go off the deep end...strange kid :/

Sarah starts crying because she can't detangle her head. I'm annoyed because why in the world didn't she get in the shower instead of sitting around. Ugh!

We drive to church sulking, sighing, and fuming.

I love church. I love going, and learning. Of course I couldn't love it after such a bad morning. I felt like a hypocrite or even a liar.

The preacher talked about the gift of grace. It was perfect, but it almost made me feel worse. I know better than to act that way. It never helps, and a good day turned very bad.

I wish I could say it automatically flipped to good because we went to church, but it didn't. Hurt feelings, and lingering anger made it slow to smooth over. As the day went on, we did work it out, and ended up having a peaceful family dinner together.

It was a day that reminded me that I hate those days. I hate my own reaction to simple everyday problems. I have faced HUGE, life altering problems this year. I, for the most part, have gracefully dealt with them. Not once did I lose it over Abby, but tangled hair....oh my.

So, why do I lose my ever lovin mind on the little things?

I don't know exactly. I have to figure God is still working on me.

Knowing I am in need of extravagant grace--daily--doesn't mean I shouldn't have been upset. It does mean that I have the tools to respond differently. As I try to be the wife and mom I want to be, I also have the responsibility to respond differently.

Thankfully, today is a new day, and almost a new year. A new chance to make different choices, and have a day that isn't such a bad day.




 

Christmas 2012

We did great getting through Christmas. Actually, I enjoyed it. Abby is always in our hearts and on our minds, but I know how precious life is. I want to enjoy my girls as much as possible. It was actually very peaceful and quiet.





Christmas Eve, Jeff's family came over and ate, opened presents, and just enjoyed being together. Last weekend we did that with my family. That's the part of Christmas I love. Being together, and relaxing.

































Only 3 stockings, but I feel like we brought our Abby girl with us, and still enjoyed family. That's the hard part. Finding balance between missing her, and life moving on and finding peace and joy in what our new reality is.

Emily hasn't felt well this week, so I've been busy trying to keep her happy. Jeff thinks it may be about Abby. I'm not sure. She just doesn't feel well. Her appetite isn't very good, but she's eating enough. She's drinking, but doesn't really want to. She's okay, but not. She's very whiny and cranky and doesn't really want to talk about it. I can't see any good reason to take her to the doctor, but if she keeps this up, I'll have her checked out just in case.

She definitely felt well enough to open presents! I love these faces!
























 

Broken

I keep waiting for a day that feels even a little bit normal to write something. It is simply in my nature to want to be positive. I do have good moments and times with family and friends that are joyful. But for the most part of almost every day I feel empty. Grief is a lonely place. No one can go there with you, and as much as I have faith that Abby is fine and I am not alone, it will take time to put some of that broken back together.

I've been thinking of the shooting in Connecticut (as we all have) and know how awful it will be for those parents as they bury their children. They must somehow learn to live with this awful tragedy in a landscape that no longer makes sense. My heart breaks for them and for us all over again.

Every day parents lose their children. We aren't unique at all. Our lives are only special because Abby was so special. Her incredibly difficult, challenging, beautiful life made us special.

Her laugh, kisses, and love of helping me in the kitchen are daily voids (chasm might be the word I need here). I miss her pushing me to be more and do more. I can't believe I even miss how demanding she was. She wasn't ever going to settle. I miss agonizing over a Christmas present for her. I never knew what to buy. I had such anxiety every Christmas, but she loved everything she got. Mostly, she just wanted to open the packages.

She really is a sweet kid.

So I have all of this running around my head, and I never know what to do with it. Where does all this grief go?

Before, life was really, really hard. But it was active and busy. We were always moving and trying to keep up. I feel passive now. It's like sorrow is something that happens to me. I have time to deal with it, but I don't know how. I'm swamped with images of not only her death, but her life. Even after she's gone, I wish it could have been easier for her. I still feel so bad that she suffered the way she did. It doesn't just go away because she did.

Christmas is only days away and I just want to get it over with. I've wrapped all the presents I normally would, made cookies, planned meals, shopped, and worked like always. Nothing is like always though. If I stop for even one second and think of my daughter, I cry and feel awful.

I poured my heart and soul into her life; into the faith it took walk beside her. I know I still have 3 children, but none of them have ever needed the way Abby did. I learned to live in her needs. We all did. Now, I'm lost in a way I've never been before.

Our hospice social worker continues to follow us for a year. Over and over she tries to remind me how loved Abby was, and how much she loved in return. I know that's true, and I'm thankful for it, but it doesn't change the brokenness of life without her.

I am praying that somewhere I find some merry in our Christmas, and can enjoy the gift that I know life is, and the gift we celebrate that day. I pray you do too.


 

What I need

I found this (I can't even remember where), but it's so true. Each moment is so different.

I need to say her name without bringing everyone to tears.

I need her life to be included in the count of children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.

I need kindness on birthdays and understanding on holidays.

I need to stay in bed and a reason to get out of it.

I need to talk endlessly and to let the phone ring.

I need an extra hug and respect for my space.

I need someone to ask how I’m doing and want to know the real answer.

I need a “handle with care” sticker for my heart, my emotions have been fragile since the day I said goodbye.

I need patience and reminders for my mind, part of it will always be somewhere else.

I need forgiveness for not being the friend, sister, daughter and wife I used to be.

But more than anything I need you…
your support, your friendship, your understanding…
a lifetime is an impossibly long time to wait to hold my child again.





 

Writing

The longer I go in between posts, the harder it is to start again. Where does a sentence really begin? Sometimes it's hard to know.

We are all doing okay. But only okay.

I don't feel sad all the time, but I do feel a heaviness constantly. It feels like everything takes effort. Getting up, brushing teeth, leaving the house, writing...absolutely everything is more difficult. I hate that because everything was hard for so long. There was no time and feelings of being overwhelmed were real. Now, time is a gift that it hurts to have.

I watch videos of Abby all the time. Almost everyday, just to see her.

We put up our trees, and I know Abby would love them. I love them. I thought it would be hard, and there were hard moments, but overall I was glad to touch the things her little hands touched year after year. We have a tree just for the girls,I love taking out the ornaments they made, and remembering little fingers and excited faces because they had a gift for us. Those things make me smile. And they make me long for her.




look at those little Abby toes! She had big, adorable feet :)











this is her baby's first ornament. Her great grandpa Leo sent them to the , so I think of him and Abby when I see this one.

For my our big tree, I added butterflies this year. They make me think of her too.













People say you just have to get through the first year. We are doing that, but it's much harder than I thought it would be. It doesn't help that she was so sick last year. Looking back, there weren't any good "lasts". They were all just getting through too. I can't change that, and I have to believe that God had a reason for what she went endured.

I'm sure Abby is having the most amazing Christmas ever, and I'm going to do my best to make our first one without her joyful for my kids. Sarah says over and over that she needs it to feel the same. I just keep Abby in the conversation. Telling stories of her are good for me and Emily, but it seems hard for Sarah. She misses her, but doesn't want to talk about it. So I'm trying to give her what she does say she wants, a happy Christmas...and who knows? Maybe I'll even just write a little too!


 

Abby walking

3 months. I can't believe it's been 3 months. Here's a little Abby for those who miss her as much as I do.

Abby walking :)



 

Comic relief

Sunday morning, as I finished getting ready for church, Glory (she-devil-puppy) ran by with something in her mouth. I chased her, and got the item out of her mouth. I complained about her as I walked back into the bathroom. I grabbed my hairspray and turned to explain to Jeff what the dog did as I sprayed.

The problem was I had 2 cans on my sink.

Guess which one ended up in my hair?




Yep! Kaboom foamtastic, sprays on blue and turns white when it's done.

Me, with a blue head 10 minutes before I was supposed to walk out of the door. I panicked because I didn't know if it had bleach in it. I ran to the sink and sprayed my hair down. Dried it well, completely relieved it wasn't yellow. I went to church looking like...well, I guess looking like my head had just been sprayed with toilet bowl cleaner.

It really was funny, but I've got to pay attention to what I'm doing. That is incredibly difficult when that puppy is running around. She's like a chewing, four legged, terror toddler. Then, at least once a day, she gets really sweet and cuddles up. What's a girl to do?

Glory's last two days also included:

Eating my shoe.




Getting tangled in the Christmas tree lights. Thank God she didn't run!




Pulling Sarah's painting off her desk, walking through it, and then all over the bed.








That dog is trouble, I tell ya. T-R-O-U-B-L-E!

She's also some much needed comic relief sometimes.


 

Thanksgiving

Thanks so much for the thoughts and prayers over the Thanksgiving holiday. I recieved messages, texts, and comments telling me that you were thinking of us and Abby.  I appreciate it so much!

So, I did it! I made it through my first Thanksgiving without my girl. I've missed her so much, and if I let myself think of it, I was very sad and had tears, but otherwise, it was ok.

At dinner, I lit a single candle as I remembered my baby.

The only table decoration.  A light for Abby.

I tried to think of her all the years she loved it, and not last year when she felt so sick. 

The girls at Seaworld when they were little!

My mom spent the week here, and my sister and her family came for the holiday. It was great to have family around.

My mom and my neice

It's a huge adjustment to a new way of life here. The biggest change is noise. We had to be quiet around Abby. She was legally blind, but very sensitive to sound. The last 6 months, any noise at all bothered her a lot. We were as quiet as we could be. Before that, we just tried not to bother her, and sound did.

Nearly 15 years of quiet is a tough habit to break. Everyone here seemed massively loud to me. I kept shh-ing everyone. My sister said they weren't really loud, I'm just used to quiet. I think it's a bit of both. They are loud (or maybe loud is a normal that I've never had), but we are library quality quiet. I really tried to stop the shhh. Emily doesn't mind the noise, so I need to get used to a new normal.

It's such a small thing, but a huge reminder of how different my life is.

Hannah and Sarah

I thought I had a better picture of Emily and Daddy, but it turns out that this is it. 
 

I tried to get pictures, but between my nieces, sister, and daughters, someone's hair wasn't done at all times. :/. They didn't love my camera, but it was nice to have cousins playing together. 

One thing we all did love was the food. This is why Abby loved it, and why I do.

We are blessed indeed!