Oh how I have needed you this past week.
Regardless of any differences we had...regardless of what kind of place we were at in our mother/daughter relationship...I could always call you when I was sick and you knew just what to say to make me feel loved and cared for. Only a mom can do that. And you had a special knack at it. I always figured it was the nurse in you. But it was the mom too. I understand that now. I'm the same way with my boys. I know how to give that extra special loving only a mom can give to sick kids. I hope my kids call me well into their adult lives when they need that mommy touch.
It's sad how, at 16, I thought I didn't need you anymore. Those teenage years are rough. I already see Jonathan starting to pull away. It's what kids are supposed to do. But it doesn't make sense that we don't truly understand how much we need our parents until we are grown ups ourselves. And then, you and I ran out of time.
I'm getting by, but it's times like this when your absence is palpable. My teeth work last week, then the boys got sick and then I got it. It was a nasty flu/cold...fevers, congestion, cough. We're all recovering, but it has been a long couple of weeks. And I really missed making my calls to Nurse Nancy. You could always make me feel better over the phone. Dad has been wonderful and has been worried about me. It has been sweet. But I'm sure that he too has wished he could hand the phone over to Nurse Nancy and let you handle it. :-)
It's hard to think that I'll never be able to call you again. It's moments like these when it hits me that it is FOREVER. This isn't going to change. You're not coming back. I will get many more colds, and I will never have you to call. And then I have to remind myself to take things one day at a time and not get wrapped up in the "Nevers" and "Forevers". I'll deal with each day as it comes. I don't have to deal with all of them today.
I really miss you though. I miss Nurse Nancy. I just simply miss my mom.
I feel your presence, but I wish I could hear your voice. I wish for a lot of things I know I'll never have again.
I wish I had appreciated all of this so much more when you were here. One of those life lessons that reminds us to live in today and love the ones we have now because we are never guaranteed tomorrow.
Thank you for all the Nurse Nancy moments you gave me over my 40 years. I sincerely appreciate every one and I probably didn't say thank you enough.
I managed to survive this illness without you. But the absence of your care and your concern and your love was real and visible and will be during every illness I have for the remainder of my life, I'm sure.
We had more than our share of moments together. We sometimes couldn't figure the other one out. But you loved me like only a mom can love a daughter. And I miss that so very much.
I miss you Nurse Nancy.
I love and miss you mom.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Life Does Go On
Five years ago if someone had asked me if I could imagine life without my mom, I would have been horrified at the thought. The simple idea of living without my parents was too much to even think about. I knew one day it would happen, but I intended to be in denial about it until I had to face it.
Then 3 years ago, I thought I was losing my dad. His health seemed to be steadily declining and none of us knew what was going on. I remember talking to my mom about how sick dad was and how I was worried that she was going to have to take care of him for many years. I was sad for my mom because I knew she had sacrificed everything for her family for her entire adult life. And here I was worried about her now sacrificing her golden years while she was healthy and vibrant. I was sad to think about losing my dad and I was sad to think that my mom might have to spend a good portion of the rest of her life taking care of him if he was just declining. I remember it being a horrible time and a lot of conflict in my head.
And then my dad received his Parkinson's diagnosis and was put on medication and nearly overnight, he was back to my old dad. It was remarkable. And I thought that my parents were going to have many more years to enjoy together.
They had 2. And those 2 should be something to be grateful for, but it was still only 2 years. And then, overnight, mom was diagnosed with cancer and all of our lives were turned upside down.
And yet, we keep moving forward. Me, Michael, Dad...we all keep moving forward. And we're doing okay. And some days I feel guilty for that. Although I know there is no other choice. I suppose if I thought I had a choice to curl into a big lump and hide under my covers forever, I might have chosen that, but that was never an option.
It's amazing to me that you can lose someone so important in your life and keep moving forward. Some days it is really strange to me.
And then there are the days when it stops me in my tracks.
On Wednesday I had some long-needed dental work done. I wasn't anticipating the pain that came with it. It was the first time I had been in pain like that in a long, long time. I received a prescription for pain meds, but I don't take pain meds. And they would have made me drowsy and not able to be available to clients. I knew I wouldn't take them, but I went to the store and filled the prescription anyway, just in case the pain really got to a point where I couldn't take it anymore.
The store was packed. The pharmacy had about a 30 minute wait. I walked around looking for some soft food and started feeling really sad. This was one of those times when I would have called mom and she would have felt truly bad for me. Only a mom can really "feel" their child's pain. And mom would have felt mine and, although I wouldn't have wanted her to worry, I would have like the care and concern.
But I couldn't call her.
I was tired and in pain as I made my way out to my car in the dark and the emotions bubbled up. The tears came in buckets and there was screaming and yelling at I don't know who. It lasted a good 10 minutes.
When those moments come, I realize that, yes, I am moving forward. Yes, I am still a good Doula, a good Childbirth Educator, a great mom, a good student. I take care of all that needs to be taken care of in my life. However, there is, and always will be, a hole in my heart. And there will always be moments when I desperately miss my mom. I miss her every day, but those moments where it so so incredibly painful don't come every day. Nonetheless, when they do, they remind me that I will never fill the void that was left by the loss of my mom. There is no filling it.
But the rest of my life moves on. I have come to understand that, occasionally, I will have to pass through that place where the hole is in my heart. Life circumstances will come up that will take me to that hole. And the tears will come. And the pain will seem unbearable again.
And then it will pass. And I will keep moving forward.
I have come to understand that it will likely be this way forever. I am living and I can laugh and I can enjoy life, but every once in a while, I will fall into that hole.
And that's to be expected and it's okay.
The human spirit really is incredible. We can survive incredible things. 5 years ago I could never have imagined that I would be able to survive losing my mom. But I am. I don't like that I have to be going through this. But I don't have to like it. I just have to do it.
Oh...and on a side note...the pain meds were hydrocodone...exactly the same thing my mom had for pain when she was dying. I saw that bottle and it really took me back to standing in mom and dad's kitchen reading the labels on all the drugs that were there for mom. It was sort of a surreal moment. I never took any by the way. I would have had to be in much more pain to take one of those pills. But I feel like I had to go get them. I needed to have that moment too.
Life is all about the little moments. The good. The bad. The happy. The sad. All we can do is take each one as it comes and walk our way through it the best we can.
Life does go on for those of us who are left behind. And the best thing we can do to honor those that have died is simply to keep living.
Then 3 years ago, I thought I was losing my dad. His health seemed to be steadily declining and none of us knew what was going on. I remember talking to my mom about how sick dad was and how I was worried that she was going to have to take care of him for many years. I was sad for my mom because I knew she had sacrificed everything for her family for her entire adult life. And here I was worried about her now sacrificing her golden years while she was healthy and vibrant. I was sad to think about losing my dad and I was sad to think that my mom might have to spend a good portion of the rest of her life taking care of him if he was just declining. I remember it being a horrible time and a lot of conflict in my head.
And then my dad received his Parkinson's diagnosis and was put on medication and nearly overnight, he was back to my old dad. It was remarkable. And I thought that my parents were going to have many more years to enjoy together.
They had 2. And those 2 should be something to be grateful for, but it was still only 2 years. And then, overnight, mom was diagnosed with cancer and all of our lives were turned upside down.
And yet, we keep moving forward. Me, Michael, Dad...we all keep moving forward. And we're doing okay. And some days I feel guilty for that. Although I know there is no other choice. I suppose if I thought I had a choice to curl into a big lump and hide under my covers forever, I might have chosen that, but that was never an option.
It's amazing to me that you can lose someone so important in your life and keep moving forward. Some days it is really strange to me.
And then there are the days when it stops me in my tracks.
On Wednesday I had some long-needed dental work done. I wasn't anticipating the pain that came with it. It was the first time I had been in pain like that in a long, long time. I received a prescription for pain meds, but I don't take pain meds. And they would have made me drowsy and not able to be available to clients. I knew I wouldn't take them, but I went to the store and filled the prescription anyway, just in case the pain really got to a point where I couldn't take it anymore.
The store was packed. The pharmacy had about a 30 minute wait. I walked around looking for some soft food and started feeling really sad. This was one of those times when I would have called mom and she would have felt truly bad for me. Only a mom can really "feel" their child's pain. And mom would have felt mine and, although I wouldn't have wanted her to worry, I would have like the care and concern.
But I couldn't call her.
I was tired and in pain as I made my way out to my car in the dark and the emotions bubbled up. The tears came in buckets and there was screaming and yelling at I don't know who. It lasted a good 10 minutes.
When those moments come, I realize that, yes, I am moving forward. Yes, I am still a good Doula, a good Childbirth Educator, a great mom, a good student. I take care of all that needs to be taken care of in my life. However, there is, and always will be, a hole in my heart. And there will always be moments when I desperately miss my mom. I miss her every day, but those moments where it so so incredibly painful don't come every day. Nonetheless, when they do, they remind me that I will never fill the void that was left by the loss of my mom. There is no filling it.
But the rest of my life moves on. I have come to understand that, occasionally, I will have to pass through that place where the hole is in my heart. Life circumstances will come up that will take me to that hole. And the tears will come. And the pain will seem unbearable again.
And then it will pass. And I will keep moving forward.
I have come to understand that it will likely be this way forever. I am living and I can laugh and I can enjoy life, but every once in a while, I will fall into that hole.
And that's to be expected and it's okay.
The human spirit really is incredible. We can survive incredible things. 5 years ago I could never have imagined that I would be able to survive losing my mom. But I am. I don't like that I have to be going through this. But I don't have to like it. I just have to do it.
Oh...and on a side note...the pain meds were hydrocodone...exactly the same thing my mom had for pain when she was dying. I saw that bottle and it really took me back to standing in mom and dad's kitchen reading the labels on all the drugs that were there for mom. It was sort of a surreal moment. I never took any by the way. I would have had to be in much more pain to take one of those pills. But I feel like I had to go get them. I needed to have that moment too.
Life is all about the little moments. The good. The bad. The happy. The sad. All we can do is take each one as it comes and walk our way through it the best we can.
Life does go on for those of us who are left behind. And the best thing we can do to honor those that have died is simply to keep living.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
3 months
Wow...it's been a quarter of a year since mom died. It's hard to believe.
Last night I had been mulling over whether or not to drive to the cemetery today. I promised myself, when mom died, I would visit the cemetery at least every month on the 13th for the first year. I made it in November, but in December there was snow and it looks like I won't make it again today. But I'm going easy on myself. I've backed off my original plan and am allowing myself to say it's okay if I'm not there on the 13th. I do go often, and I will get there again soon. Mom knows I'm thinking about her constantly. I don't need a trip to the cemetery for her to know she's on my mind. Nonetheless, it is, strangely, where I feel the closest to her.
However, this morning at 3am I was woken by my client's husband. An hour and 14 minutes later, a beautiful baby boy was born into the world in the emergency room of one of the local hospitals.
Is there really any better way to spend this day than to welcome a new baby into the world? I don't think so. The circle of life continues to present itself to me. It is powerful and wonderful.
As I sat in the parking lot of the hospital waiting for my clients to show up this morning, I had a moment of thinking about what I was doing 3 months ago and how remarkably different my life is today. And it occurred to me that I'm okay.
I'm okay knowing that it's normal to feel sad at the oddest times. I'm okay knowing that it's good to laugh and smile and be joyful. I'm okay knowing that I'm moving forward without my mom physically present, but somehow still present in so many ways.
I'm okay.
Of course, I did find myself in the grocery store parking lot in tears on Sunday for no discernible reason. I just knew I was crying over mom, although I had no idea why it hit when it did. There didn't seem to be a noticeable trigger. But there I was...just wanting to buy groceries, but sitting in my car trying to stop the tears that just wanted to keep coming.
And on Monday, I watched Christopher's birth video as I do on every one of his birthdays. He turned 8 this year. On Sunday afternoon, it occurred to me that mom was on that video. I'm SO glad it hit me before I saw her on the video because I felt I had a little time to prepare. As the video played, I cried, as I always do, when Christopher was born. And then my heart started to race as I anticipated seeing my mom. And then, there she was...just for a minute or so...but I could see her, healthy and strong and smiling and happy. And I could hear her voice. Oh my gosh, that was incredible. I heard her laugh. And it was heart wrenching and beautiful at the same time. And then it was over. But I could rewind and see her again.
Sometimes I wish life had a rewind button.
But it doesn't and we keep moving forward.
Today my heart and mind is remembering my mom. But a part of it is also in Haiti where there has been so much loss of life after the earthquake that hit yesterday. And a part of it is with the beautiful new baby that was born this morning. The little baby that just couldn't wait to get to the labor and delivery floor. The little baby that is going to have a beautiful life with his incredible parents and 2 big brothers. The little baby that reminds me that life continues. And it is good. It is full of ups and downs. But we keep moving forward because there is no other choice. To not move forward would be to miss all the good the world has to offer.
I miss my mom. Every day I miss her. And I'm learning from those that have gone before me that it's possible that never changes. Strange how I initially thought it would. But I may miss her every day for the rest of my life. And I'm learning and accepting that it is okay.
3 months. I have learned a lot in those 3 months.
And today I celebrate a beautiful new life. 8 years and 2 days after I held my own new beautiful life in my arms, with my mom nearby. She was nearby today too. I know that without a doubt.
Welcome little baby D. Thank you, and your parents, for the wonderful gift you gave to me today.
Last night I had been mulling over whether or not to drive to the cemetery today. I promised myself, when mom died, I would visit the cemetery at least every month on the 13th for the first year. I made it in November, but in December there was snow and it looks like I won't make it again today. But I'm going easy on myself. I've backed off my original plan and am allowing myself to say it's okay if I'm not there on the 13th. I do go often, and I will get there again soon. Mom knows I'm thinking about her constantly. I don't need a trip to the cemetery for her to know she's on my mind. Nonetheless, it is, strangely, where I feel the closest to her.
However, this morning at 3am I was woken by my client's husband. An hour and 14 minutes later, a beautiful baby boy was born into the world in the emergency room of one of the local hospitals.
Is there really any better way to spend this day than to welcome a new baby into the world? I don't think so. The circle of life continues to present itself to me. It is powerful and wonderful.
As I sat in the parking lot of the hospital waiting for my clients to show up this morning, I had a moment of thinking about what I was doing 3 months ago and how remarkably different my life is today. And it occurred to me that I'm okay.
I'm okay knowing that it's normal to feel sad at the oddest times. I'm okay knowing that it's good to laugh and smile and be joyful. I'm okay knowing that I'm moving forward without my mom physically present, but somehow still present in so many ways.
I'm okay.
Of course, I did find myself in the grocery store parking lot in tears on Sunday for no discernible reason. I just knew I was crying over mom, although I had no idea why it hit when it did. There didn't seem to be a noticeable trigger. But there I was...just wanting to buy groceries, but sitting in my car trying to stop the tears that just wanted to keep coming.
And on Monday, I watched Christopher's birth video as I do on every one of his birthdays. He turned 8 this year. On Sunday afternoon, it occurred to me that mom was on that video. I'm SO glad it hit me before I saw her on the video because I felt I had a little time to prepare. As the video played, I cried, as I always do, when Christopher was born. And then my heart started to race as I anticipated seeing my mom. And then, there she was...just for a minute or so...but I could see her, healthy and strong and smiling and happy. And I could hear her voice. Oh my gosh, that was incredible. I heard her laugh. And it was heart wrenching and beautiful at the same time. And then it was over. But I could rewind and see her again.
Sometimes I wish life had a rewind button.
But it doesn't and we keep moving forward.
Today my heart and mind is remembering my mom. But a part of it is also in Haiti where there has been so much loss of life after the earthquake that hit yesterday. And a part of it is with the beautiful new baby that was born this morning. The little baby that just couldn't wait to get to the labor and delivery floor. The little baby that is going to have a beautiful life with his incredible parents and 2 big brothers. The little baby that reminds me that life continues. And it is good. It is full of ups and downs. But we keep moving forward because there is no other choice. To not move forward would be to miss all the good the world has to offer.
I miss my mom. Every day I miss her. And I'm learning from those that have gone before me that it's possible that never changes. Strange how I initially thought it would. But I may miss her every day for the rest of my life. And I'm learning and accepting that it is okay.
3 months. I have learned a lot in those 3 months.
And today I celebrate a beautiful new life. 8 years and 2 days after I held my own new beautiful life in my arms, with my mom nearby. She was nearby today too. I know that without a doubt.
Welcome little baby D. Thank you, and your parents, for the wonderful gift you gave to me today.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Taking Care
I am a caretaker. That's who I am. I take care of my family. I take care of my home. I take care of my clients. I take care of my dad. I took care of mom. It all comes naturally to me and I like it that way.
However, I fail miserably in one area. I do not do a good job of taking care of myself. I never have.
This year I intend to change that.
I would like to say I'm going to put myself first, but I know that isn't true. But I am, at least, putting myself on the list. :-)
I stepped on the scale for the first time in months and was not happy with what I saw. I was not surprised, but was certainly not happy. I needed to do it though. I needed to see the number to help give me motivation. When I look in the mirror, the toll last year took on my body is visible. I see it in my eyes and my face and my waist and my hips and my thighs and even my fingers and toes. It's as though I'm carrying it all around with me.
It's time to let it go.
I spent some time this weekend putting together a spreadsheet to track my eating and exercising and weight loss. I'm motivated today. I know there will be days that I am not. But I'm hoping I can continue to push through. I have made a healthy goal that I believe I can accomplish.
I have had to remind myself that letting go of this cover or this armor with which I have insulated myself is healthy and is okay. It's time to start walking in this world with the strength I have inside of me visible from the outside too.
My challenge is simple really. Just eat consciously. I have always worked out (thank goodness or who knows where I'd be right now!). I just spent the past year eating on the road. I would grab whatever was closest to tide me over. I also am a stress eater and eating consciously will help me curb that better as well.
It's not as much about losing weight as it is about being good to myself. It's about giving myself permission to take care of myself. It's about living life consciously and openly, even when it hurts.
It's a new year. It is no longer 2009, the year my mom died. It is however still only 2 & a half months since it happened. I have to respect that. I have to honor this grieving process. But I do not have to succumb to it.
I can still take care of all I need (and want) to take care of. But I can, and will, take care of myself this year too. I get the sense that mom is pretty happy with that decision. :-)
However, I fail miserably in one area. I do not do a good job of taking care of myself. I never have.
This year I intend to change that.
I would like to say I'm going to put myself first, but I know that isn't true. But I am, at least, putting myself on the list. :-)
I stepped on the scale for the first time in months and was not happy with what I saw. I was not surprised, but was certainly not happy. I needed to do it though. I needed to see the number to help give me motivation. When I look in the mirror, the toll last year took on my body is visible. I see it in my eyes and my face and my waist and my hips and my thighs and even my fingers and toes. It's as though I'm carrying it all around with me.
It's time to let it go.
I spent some time this weekend putting together a spreadsheet to track my eating and exercising and weight loss. I'm motivated today. I know there will be days that I am not. But I'm hoping I can continue to push through. I have made a healthy goal that I believe I can accomplish.
I have had to remind myself that letting go of this cover or this armor with which I have insulated myself is healthy and is okay. It's time to start walking in this world with the strength I have inside of me visible from the outside too.
My challenge is simple really. Just eat consciously. I have always worked out (thank goodness or who knows where I'd be right now!). I just spent the past year eating on the road. I would grab whatever was closest to tide me over. I also am a stress eater and eating consciously will help me curb that better as well.
It's not as much about losing weight as it is about being good to myself. It's about giving myself permission to take care of myself. It's about living life consciously and openly, even when it hurts.
It's a new year. It is no longer 2009, the year my mom died. It is however still only 2 & a half months since it happened. I have to respect that. I have to honor this grieving process. But I do not have to succumb to it.
I can still take care of all I need (and want) to take care of. But I can, and will, take care of myself this year too. I get the sense that mom is pretty happy with that decision. :-)
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