Tomorrow is the date my daughter's baby boy, Loki, was due to be born.
Today I got up and the tears started, it hurts no less today than it did on May 8 when she told me the baby's heart had stopped. And no less than May 9 when she had a surgical procedure to remove her baby boy. And no less than everyday since then.
Oh, as Nena I've got other grandsons to love on. But I missed seeing Loki, or getting to know him. Sharing with him, laughing when he did things I would have spanked Renee for doing, teaching him little things like I'm his mommy's mommy - that's always fun to teach children.
But the worst thing of all is to see my baby still hurting like she does. Tomorrow will be a hard day for her, she's not planning on working, and I hope she can find some peace somewhere, if only for a few hours.
Maybe, in her grief, she can find some solace. Right now she's 11 weeks pregnant and things look good so far. Oh Lord, please don't let my baby be heartbroken again. Lord please let this baby make it to be born and both of them be okay, I pray so hard and everyday for this. and I cry, lots of big momma tears, like my baby's cried.
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
Friday, October 5, 2018
Me Too
I have given this so much thought and decided to share my 'me too' moment, if only on this blog. There will be a time that someone will read it, probably my daughter and my sister. It's not something I've dwelled on or have let it influence me on a daily, but, everything kept in the dark will come to the light.
Back in late 1968 or early 1969 we were living in Glasgow KY and Kyle was staying with us while on leave from the Marines. At the time, Larry was sleeping with me in my room. I guess Kyle was in one of the boys bunk beds. I don't remember if Bob was there yet and Mike was on the couch, but either way, Larry was sleeping with me. We were 5 and 8 at the time.
Kyle came into the room and got into bed with us. He was drunk and was talking to us about the kids in Vietnam who had to eat bugs just to have something to eat. During that time he pulled me very close to him and begin rubbing my buttocks. I didn't really understand what was happening, except that I was very scared.
I don't remember any other touching and shortly Mom came to the door of my room and told him to come back to the kitchen. It was never discussed or even acknowledged. And, child like I must have forgotten it pretty soon.
The memories returned to me several years later when Kyle had moved back into our house, this time with a wife and two sons. His drinking was out of control and his mouth was so mean. By that time, I was about 15 or 16, and was overweight. Not much by today's standards for sure, but in the mid 70's enough for me to never have a date, etc.
He reminded me of that and berated me often. I had wanted a Mustang as long as I could remember, he even went as far as to tell me Mom and Dad had bought one, but I would only get it if and when I lost the weight. Needless to say, none of that was true. Through the years Kyle and I would butt heads more than once - it was just a war of words - and Mom defended him to the end of the world.
I didn't think too much about the 'assault' until right after I'd married and then Ronnie Martin accused me of sleeping with my brother. I was deeply hurt by those comments and this memory came back to me again. I always thought it was because, if I'd married a normal man, I could have shared that pain. No way would I have ever let Ronnie know and never did.
The only person in my life who has ever know this story was my very dear friend Tammy Barrett. Tammy and I were sisters from different mothers, we were so much alike and had a deep bond from the moment we met. We were almost clones of each other - it was so funny to us!
I never did make peace of any kind with Kyle. The last time I saw him alive was at Larry's house. Larry and Mike played some music and Kyle sang. After the song, he hugged the boys and mom and said "I love you guys". I just stood on the opposite side of the room and we looked at each other, but no words passed and no hugs either. I never knew what he remembered.
I realize that this moment in my life does not compare to some of the horrors other women have endured. But to me, it was horrific and I can see where it impacted me on a very personal level. I never fully shared my heart with any man ever. And, there were men in my life who had no place at all. For that I take full responsibility, I just wonder how things may have been different without the shame and pain I've felt.
Back in late 1968 or early 1969 we were living in Glasgow KY and Kyle was staying with us while on leave from the Marines. At the time, Larry was sleeping with me in my room. I guess Kyle was in one of the boys bunk beds. I don't remember if Bob was there yet and Mike was on the couch, but either way, Larry was sleeping with me. We were 5 and 8 at the time.
Kyle came into the room and got into bed with us. He was drunk and was talking to us about the kids in Vietnam who had to eat bugs just to have something to eat. During that time he pulled me very close to him and begin rubbing my buttocks. I didn't really understand what was happening, except that I was very scared.
I don't remember any other touching and shortly Mom came to the door of my room and told him to come back to the kitchen. It was never discussed or even acknowledged. And, child like I must have forgotten it pretty soon.
The memories returned to me several years later when Kyle had moved back into our house, this time with a wife and two sons. His drinking was out of control and his mouth was so mean. By that time, I was about 15 or 16, and was overweight. Not much by today's standards for sure, but in the mid 70's enough for me to never have a date, etc.
He reminded me of that and berated me often. I had wanted a Mustang as long as I could remember, he even went as far as to tell me Mom and Dad had bought one, but I would only get it if and when I lost the weight. Needless to say, none of that was true. Through the years Kyle and I would butt heads more than once - it was just a war of words - and Mom defended him to the end of the world.
I didn't think too much about the 'assault' until right after I'd married and then Ronnie Martin accused me of sleeping with my brother. I was deeply hurt by those comments and this memory came back to me again. I always thought it was because, if I'd married a normal man, I could have shared that pain. No way would I have ever let Ronnie know and never did.
The only person in my life who has ever know this story was my very dear friend Tammy Barrett. Tammy and I were sisters from different mothers, we were so much alike and had a deep bond from the moment we met. We were almost clones of each other - it was so funny to us!
I never did make peace of any kind with Kyle. The last time I saw him alive was at Larry's house. Larry and Mike played some music and Kyle sang. After the song, he hugged the boys and mom and said "I love you guys". I just stood on the opposite side of the room and we looked at each other, but no words passed and no hugs either. I never knew what he remembered.
I realize that this moment in my life does not compare to some of the horrors other women have endured. But to me, it was horrific and I can see where it impacted me on a very personal level. I never fully shared my heart with any man ever. And, there were men in my life who had no place at all. For that I take full responsibility, I just wonder how things may have been different without the shame and pain I've felt.
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Grief so Deep
On Tuesday of this week, my daughter went for a regular doctor's appointment and found out her little baby didn't have a heartbeat.
Devastation - pure and utter devastation. That's the only word I can think of about how this feels.
My sister had suffered two miscarriages, both fairly early. My sister in law had also, at least that's the story. I know there was one for sure one.
Those hurt, especially for my sister who is so very important to me.
I don't know what to say to my daughter and I don't know how to comfort her. I feel very sad myself, another sweet little boy grandchild, but lost before he could be born. I was hoping for a girl, but I didn't care as long as both of them were ok. And, now they are not.
I had prayed for her and the baby to both be okay. And I told God if he needed to take me to allow her baby to get her healthy and she be good, I was okay with that. I would go. But, that wasn't the plan.
She and the baby's father decided to name him - Loki - the God of chaos and mischief. Somehow, that's so very fitting and I can just see the little mister.
When my mom died, sometimes my daughter would be mad at me. She didn't think I showed enough emotion and took that for me not caring. She never knew how much I grieved, and still do, in solitude. I've done the same for a sweet precious baby, her baby, that I'll never get to hold or watch all the first steps like sitting up, standing, walking, school, etc.
And tomorrow is Mother's Day. What do I say? I had planned a shopping trip to get her something special with a mom- to - be card. I never went, and I think tomorrow if NO ONE mentions Mother's Day to me I will be quite okay with that!
Devastation - pure and utter devastation. That's the only word I can think of about how this feels.
My sister had suffered two miscarriages, both fairly early. My sister in law had also, at least that's the story. I know there was one for sure one.
Those hurt, especially for my sister who is so very important to me.
I don't know what to say to my daughter and I don't know how to comfort her. I feel very sad myself, another sweet little boy grandchild, but lost before he could be born. I was hoping for a girl, but I didn't care as long as both of them were ok. And, now they are not.
I had prayed for her and the baby to both be okay. And I told God if he needed to take me to allow her baby to get her healthy and she be good, I was okay with that. I would go. But, that wasn't the plan.
She and the baby's father decided to name him - Loki - the God of chaos and mischief. Somehow, that's so very fitting and I can just see the little mister.
When my mom died, sometimes my daughter would be mad at me. She didn't think I showed enough emotion and took that for me not caring. She never knew how much I grieved, and still do, in solitude. I've done the same for a sweet precious baby, her baby, that I'll never get to hold or watch all the first steps like sitting up, standing, walking, school, etc.
And tomorrow is Mother's Day. What do I say? I had planned a shopping trip to get her something special with a mom- to - be card. I never went, and I think tomorrow if NO ONE mentions Mother's Day to me I will be quite okay with that!
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Is there really normal?
Lots of time for reflection in retirement.
Lately, I've spent some time on that - maybe because I see my kids going through so much and I wonder how in the world my mom stood the four of us. I only have two, and there is something to grieve, at least I'm doing so, in everyday.
Sometimes I wonder what if - I'm sure most people do. Life didn't turn out like I planned - but whose does?
When I got in my mid twenties I began to think about old age, growing old alone, posterity, etc. And I wanted to be normal. You know, falling love, getting married, having children, growing old together, sitting on the porch surrounded by grandkids. Somewhat like described in "Steel Magnolias".
And there was someone paying me a lot of attention, so I just let go and let it happen. I fell in love, got married, but not the wedding I'd wanted. I had the children, and while raising kids is not for sissies, it was so much harder because I didn't really have a partner. Of course, a divorce came. And the kids are grown! There are grandchildren - right now all little boys and I don't really see two of them at all, the other two do visit, but none of them belong to a family unit with mom and dad. All these little boys being raised by single moms.
And there's a new one on the way - I hope it's a girl - but as long as it and my own baby are healthy - I'll be okay. My daughter is going thru a divorce and the soon to be ex is not the baby's father.
So - are the normal American family? From where I sit it looks like it - so few people marry any more - and multiple children with various parentage in a single woman led household seems to be the very normality of life in America.
Where do we go from here?
Hey - wasn't that a song - yep - in Buffy the Musical!!
Lately, I've spent some time on that - maybe because I see my kids going through so much and I wonder how in the world my mom stood the four of us. I only have two, and there is something to grieve, at least I'm doing so, in everyday.
Sometimes I wonder what if - I'm sure most people do. Life didn't turn out like I planned - but whose does?
When I got in my mid twenties I began to think about old age, growing old alone, posterity, etc. And I wanted to be normal. You know, falling love, getting married, having children, growing old together, sitting on the porch surrounded by grandkids. Somewhat like described in "Steel Magnolias".
And there was someone paying me a lot of attention, so I just let go and let it happen. I fell in love, got married, but not the wedding I'd wanted. I had the children, and while raising kids is not for sissies, it was so much harder because I didn't really have a partner. Of course, a divorce came. And the kids are grown! There are grandchildren - right now all little boys and I don't really see two of them at all, the other two do visit, but none of them belong to a family unit with mom and dad. All these little boys being raised by single moms.
And there's a new one on the way - I hope it's a girl - but as long as it and my own baby are healthy - I'll be okay. My daughter is going thru a divorce and the soon to be ex is not the baby's father.
So - are the normal American family? From where I sit it looks like it - so few people marry any more - and multiple children with various parentage in a single woman led household seems to be the very normality of life in America.
Where do we go from here?
Hey - wasn't that a song - yep - in Buffy the Musical!!
Tuesday, March 27, 2018
Grieving Yourself
Grieving for yourself and your death - is that normal?
I've kicked around plans and ideas for my service, etc. for awhile. I made a list of songs, etc. I've got a will, an advance directive and hopefully, some plan for the disposal of my body (I hope to go to the Body Farm in Knoxville!)
There are times when I'm sad about other things and I think about what happens after I leave. My children are 27 and 29. Will they be ok? Have I done enough for them? Well, I don't like my answers to myself and that causes me great despair.
But I grieve, for their loss but mostly for mine. I won't see them become 40 years old, maybe not even see Lynn turn 30. I grieve because I won't see my grandchildren become adults. The oldest one just turned four - who am I kidding?
If history repeats itself, I've got somewhere between 9 and 15 months left. My dad died at 58 - so did his dad. I will be 58 on June 1 - so I'm fully expecting to go next winter when my semi-yearly battle with MRSA comes to call.
But I'm going to refuse to go! I've built so much strength the last few months - I refuse to think there is so little time left.
And, when I do let that reality creep into my mind, I grieve. For a life that I've loved, even in it's harshest moments, to the babies I will leave behind, because they will all always be babies to me.
I've kicked around plans and ideas for my service, etc. for awhile. I made a list of songs, etc. I've got a will, an advance directive and hopefully, some plan for the disposal of my body (I hope to go to the Body Farm in Knoxville!)
There are times when I'm sad about other things and I think about what happens after I leave. My children are 27 and 29. Will they be ok? Have I done enough for them? Well, I don't like my answers to myself and that causes me great despair.
But I grieve, for their loss but mostly for mine. I won't see them become 40 years old, maybe not even see Lynn turn 30. I grieve because I won't see my grandchildren become adults. The oldest one just turned four - who am I kidding?
If history repeats itself, I've got somewhere between 9 and 15 months left. My dad died at 58 - so did his dad. I will be 58 on June 1 - so I'm fully expecting to go next winter when my semi-yearly battle with MRSA comes to call.
But I'm going to refuse to go! I've built so much strength the last few months - I refuse to think there is so little time left.
And, when I do let that reality creep into my mind, I grieve. For a life that I've loved, even in it's harshest moments, to the babies I will leave behind, because they will all always be babies to me.
Monday, March 26, 2018
A Mother's Tears
In the last thirty years, I've shed tears for many reasons. Happiness, pride swelling in my chest to almost burst my eyeballs out, physical pain that left me barely able to whimper, fear that left me speechless and silent heartbreak at losing a loved one I couldn't imagine being in this world without.
But, none of those compare to a mother's tears when her child is bawling their eyes out in anguish and pain and confusion and despair.
I've had to see both of my children with these kind of tears this week. They are in very different situations, but, they are both hurting. And no mother can stand that - there's nothing to do with these times but just keep pushing. It will get better, it will get different, and this won't seem so bad a year from now. Mostly because there'll be the next rung of the ladder that will probably be worse!
How do you encourage your child to keep going, even when that going is so hard and rough? Because that's the only choice.
Today my son has threatened to take his life. This is not the first time, and probably won't be the last. But today his anguish is palatable, I can taste it, I feel it in my bones and hear it in his sobs.
And in all their anguish, I cry. Rivers of tears. And I cry out to God, please help me to help them! Tell me what to do or say to ease their pain. Help them, dear Lord, to keep pushing.
And today, I want my own mother to cry to.
But, none of those compare to a mother's tears when her child is bawling their eyes out in anguish and pain and confusion and despair.
I've had to see both of my children with these kind of tears this week. They are in very different situations, but, they are both hurting. And no mother can stand that - there's nothing to do with these times but just keep pushing. It will get better, it will get different, and this won't seem so bad a year from now. Mostly because there'll be the next rung of the ladder that will probably be worse!
How do you encourage your child to keep going, even when that going is so hard and rough? Because that's the only choice.
Today my son has threatened to take his life. This is not the first time, and probably won't be the last. But today his anguish is palatable, I can taste it, I feel it in my bones and hear it in his sobs.
And in all their anguish, I cry. Rivers of tears. And I cry out to God, please help me to help them! Tell me what to do or say to ease their pain. Help them, dear Lord, to keep pushing.
And today, I want my own mother to cry to.
Tuesday, March 13, 2018
What ye sow, so shall ye reap!
Well, if I never knew the meaning of these words, I do now.
I'm very sad, more sad that I've ever been that I can remember. I've blogged many times about being a mom and some of those hardships, but the last seven days have been so bad that I truly wonder why I'm still breathing.
Last Monday my daughter, whom I love so very dearly, and have been so very proud of her whole life, came to tell me she was pregnant. That should have been a very happy announcement and one that I've actually prayed about. She's 29, has Protein S deficiency and PCOS. Becoming pregnant and maintaining a pregnancy full term would be a huge accomplishment, if it happened at all, and we've known this and discussed it.
She has been married almost six years to a man she dated five, but in the last few months they'd hit a rough spot. I guess more than a rough spot, since her husband is not the father of her child.
I have no clue what to say. The thoughts in my head are not nice. And I've cussed out a few people in the last week that probably didn't deserve it, but I'm lashing out.
There's no fixing any of this. Her husband is heartbroken, but standing beside her. I can't decide if he's a saint or stupid beyond words. The sperm donor is not free - he has a wife and child that is almost two. He doesn't work consistently, still lives with his mom and not someone I think I can ever accept the way I have her husband, nor love either. Right now, I think I hate him.
BUT that may be because 30 years I was in a similar situation. The man I married, before I got pregnant, had to get divorced first. And they didn't have any children. But today none of that is any comfort. I set a pattern, I sowed a bad seed and now I will reap what I've sown.
I will not only know the heartbreak my mother felt, but feel it times ten. And I know that in 7 1/2 months, if we have a little baby, I will be so filled with love that some of this will fade.
The worse part is having no one to turn to - no one to share the pain with. My mom and dad are gone and her dad wouldn't care that this hurts me, in fact he'd probably find it perfectly fine and funny. So, not only do I feel the weight of ten worlds on my shoulders and my heart hurts so bad, I don't know why it beats, I am standing alone.
Years ago, my Mom told me I was making a bed so hard I couldn't lie in it. I thought she was crazy, but I now understand. I'm paying, and I suspect I've only scratched the surface.
I'm very sad, more sad that I've ever been that I can remember. I've blogged many times about being a mom and some of those hardships, but the last seven days have been so bad that I truly wonder why I'm still breathing.
Last Monday my daughter, whom I love so very dearly, and have been so very proud of her whole life, came to tell me she was pregnant. That should have been a very happy announcement and one that I've actually prayed about. She's 29, has Protein S deficiency and PCOS. Becoming pregnant and maintaining a pregnancy full term would be a huge accomplishment, if it happened at all, and we've known this and discussed it.
She has been married almost six years to a man she dated five, but in the last few months they'd hit a rough spot. I guess more than a rough spot, since her husband is not the father of her child.
I have no clue what to say. The thoughts in my head are not nice. And I've cussed out a few people in the last week that probably didn't deserve it, but I'm lashing out.
There's no fixing any of this. Her husband is heartbroken, but standing beside her. I can't decide if he's a saint or stupid beyond words. The sperm donor is not free - he has a wife and child that is almost two. He doesn't work consistently, still lives with his mom and not someone I think I can ever accept the way I have her husband, nor love either. Right now, I think I hate him.
BUT that may be because 30 years I was in a similar situation. The man I married, before I got pregnant, had to get divorced first. And they didn't have any children. But today none of that is any comfort. I set a pattern, I sowed a bad seed and now I will reap what I've sown.
I will not only know the heartbreak my mother felt, but feel it times ten. And I know that in 7 1/2 months, if we have a little baby, I will be so filled with love that some of this will fade.
The worse part is having no one to turn to - no one to share the pain with. My mom and dad are gone and her dad wouldn't care that this hurts me, in fact he'd probably find it perfectly fine and funny. So, not only do I feel the weight of ten worlds on my shoulders and my heart hurts so bad, I don't know why it beats, I am standing alone.
Years ago, my Mom told me I was making a bed so hard I couldn't lie in it. I thought she was crazy, but I now understand. I'm paying, and I suspect I've only scratched the surface.
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