Confessions of a Grieving Momma: Part 4 When Grief Blows In

As I lay here in bed, my mind is spinning from all the events of another long day on the road. Another day spent shuffling between appointments.

field-thunderstorm-rainy-meadow.jpg
Grief leaves scars on the soul just as water erodes the earth.

 

Seeking help  for one kid with ADHD and the other wearing a heart monitor for 30 days. It seemed I was just starting to get comfortable again. I’ve should have seen it coming, I guess.

My heart hurts for a friend that has reached out me. She says that she is struggling; barely managing. She is sinking in the bottomless pit of responsibility of caring for a medically fragile child. The pressures and stress that come when you are the one holding everyone else together, tend to imprison we Special Needs mommas with the perception that there is not time to care for ourselves because everyone else needs us…. right now. It’s that exact imprisonment, that almost stole my light for good, nearly 2 years ago. I know all too well how badly she is hurting. I want to wrap my arms around her.

I pray for her.

My thoughts move to my close friends, that are laying their heads down tonight with huge gaping holes in their hearts. The holidays are approaching. The first, since they lost her, and more than likely, the most difficult one they’ll ever face.

I pray for them.

I can hear my husband banging around in the kitchen. I’m so thankful for him. He has stood by me as I fell from everything we value. He is still here as I continue to my journey to stay in the light.

I pray for him.

I am so tired. Why am I so emotional?

Oh God! GOD!??? Nope. Nope Nope!

That’s not funny, God.  Just NO!

The images flash through my mind. The exit ramp and the rough turn and the bridge. “My” parking spot. It’s taken. I don’t need it any more any way. They can have it.  The doors slide open and the rush of warm air causes me to squint my eyes. The shiny floors and the huge round logo seated into the concrete. That is where we stood to take our “Coming Home” picture. The sounds of the waterfall below the stairs that lead to ambulatory surgery. The smell of the coffee shop that we’ve never been to around the corner. The gift shop, the visitor badges, the red wagons. The influx of people, the scrubs. I see one of Kolt’s surgeons going up on one of the elevators while talking on his phone, dressed in full surgery attire. We waited today for several hours. As we left, there was a chopper coming in. Someone was sick. A child. Someone’s baby. Just like my baby.

It isn’t the first time I have been back. In fact, I’ve been back too many times to remember. I have always felt a connection to this place. So much of me died here. But here, I learned a lot about  living too.

I am beginning to realize that being there today, has started to evoke emotions in me that I’ve been holding back. I truly love that place. But dammit, I really hate it! It hurts. This place and all the memories, the anger and pain, and darkness. The loneliness and frustration and fear!

The tears begin to flow. The pressure around my chest builds, the memories are like fire in my throat. My stomach clenches and I’m positive my heart physically hurts. I curl into the blankets, my face is wet and my eyes are swollen. The silent screams in my head are taking my breath and now I’m struggling to find even the smallest break for air in between the echoes of sobs, while I’m clenching my teeth as though to keep my family unknowing of my moment in despair.

I don’t want to go back! I can’t go there now.

Lord, I can’t do this.

Tonight, I am too tired.

Please Lord, help me lift this pain.

Hold me tight in your embrace.

Shine your light upon me.

Cast these thoughts from my mind.

Dear Lord…

Tonight,

let me sleep.

 

 

 

These are my confessions.

I Dream of Brothers

IG Brother Quote
I have struggled so much accepting what my children mean to each other since my youngest son was born.  Kolt’s needs and circumstances most often take the forefront, always causing Kash to have to wait.
I so often feel like so many of Kash’s experiences are stolen by Kolt’s needs. Truth be told, I feel like Kolt’s needs have stolen nearly everything. Dreams, relationships, time, experiences, freedoms….the list goes on, but that’s another story. Being such a young child, it’s understandably difficult for Kash to constantly

Continue reading

Changing the Menu

Kitchen counter and dishwasher with milk spilling down onto the floor
I cry over spilled milk in this house

My youngest son, born with CHARGE Syndrome, received his feeding tube once he was stable enough to endure the surgery at just 6 weeks of age. From that day forward, it’s been a battle. That not to say that we wouldn’t have had our battles otherwise, but it has just been a never ending, get-on-my-nerves, drive-me-crazy, issue. Continue reading

How I’m Being Molded Through Grief

 

Now that that official business had been stated, it’s time to be totally transparent. My life is a beautiful mess….well, sometimes.  I like to think of it as organized chaos.

My youngest son was born with CHARGE Syndrome Continue reading

Confessions Tales From a Grieving Momma : Part 1 – The Mind Confounded A Soul Consumed

734358_10200096275543629_1179858349_n

As someone with a back up plan for every backup plan I already had, I could have never planned or prepared myself for where I have found myself today.

I am surrounded by blessings, seen and unseen, and showered daily with God’s mercy, but yet,

I’m devastated. I am devastated that the plans and dreams aren’t going like I’ve worked so hard for them to go.

I’m angry and drowning in my own guilt. Angry because the selfish human in me refuses to accept that this is my new reality and I am guilt ridden because I am a fixer, but I cannot fix this.

Guilty for so many reasons, for the pain and burden of my own circumstances, and how they are flooding over and into the lives of all of those I love. My problems, my consequences are changing their lives forever as well.

Guilty for bringing this sweet child (intentionally or not, this happened because of something that I was exposed to) into this world who will have to work so hard just to be.

He will have to fight for his life just to achieve and maintain everything that everyone else takes for granted. Yes, everything and everyone.

Guilty at how this will affect his older brother. What will have to give sacrifice? He didn’t ask for this. 

I’m suffocating. Suffocating by the overwhelming feeling/need to manage all the responsibilities perfectly and still maintain my sanity.

I’m consumed. I am consumed with grief. Grief over a life lost, over expectations lost, dreams lost.

Daily, sometimes hourly I am reminded of all the expectations lost.(FUTURE POST) There is just as much out there, in the world, as there is right here in my own home, that constantly reminds me how different my life is from where I always thought it would be. EVERY time that realization occurs, it’s like having air sucked right out of my lungs.

Grief eats away at every little bit of hope for today and faith about tomorrow I manage to gain.

Cheated, misled, lost, alone, scared, imprisoned, I could go on and on with words that describe how I feel. Not all are so piercing to the heart to think about. I can look back and see where God was leading me here. I can see time when he was trying to get me to understand and he was preparing me for this journey. He’s been here the whole time, but sometimes, I’m not so eager to listen.


A young mother's journaling of her experience with grief and depression. In this serial post " Part 1, The Mind Confounded A Soul Consumed," she writes uninhibitedly, and with such ferocity about many of the emotions that must cope with while she manages to process through her grief.

I hope I can find purpose in writing about the ugly truths that can arise from the burdens of my grief. Again, not all my truths are ugly, but those are not the ones I’m afraid to talk about either. I eager to testify about all the moments of mercy and grace that God has shown to me.(FUTURE POST)

Having a child with special needs that make him or her medically fragile, is something I’m sure no one would ever ask for. No one asked me for damn sure. (FUTURE POST) I have to have faith that God is preparing me for a greater purpose…preparing me for something in which I could never have prepared myself?(FUTURE POST)

 

As I continue to search for direction and to share my journey, I hope to be able to express my most raw of feelings.

Sometimes, out of the human mind, so confounded with grief, realizations can be harsh and scary to imagine for even for that of a grieving mind, but yet, still be painfully true. These are my confessions. These are my truths. – Casey Adams