#emptycradle

[kaia-nohea]

Rapid heart rate, chest pain, shortness of breath, sweating, shaking. If I didn’t know any better, I endured my first panic attack after a very long time of not having one. An attack that occurred so suddenly in the bathroom at my job. One that was triggered by one, stupid phone call simply just to make an appointment at the one place I never wanted to think about again...at least not for the next few months. 

“...and now we’re back to our regular programming.” 

I’m back at work. Now that my mom’s gone home and my husband has somewhat found his full-time groove back at work, I wanted to find some semblance of my old normal (as there is no more normal for me). Immersing myself in my job sounded like a brilliant idea. I’d return to amazing co-workers, who, over the years, have become some of my closest friends - some I even consider family. I had it in my head that everything would be fine, that I’d given myself enough time to prepare for what would and could be upon my return. Grief had its own agenda. 

Monday was better than I expected. I was greeted with so much support and love. I was greeted by my friends, welcomed back by parents with open arms, and the best part of all, tiny, smiling faces with happy, hopeful eyes looked up at me, stubby, little legs toddled their way into my open arms, and the sound of their voices brought me to my knees. 

“Hi, miss MJ. I missed you!” “Miss MJ!” “Miss MJ, you’re here!” “Hi, miss MJ, I love you!”

I made the right decision. I was glad to be back. Tuesday was no different. Friends who didn’t get a chance to see me on Monday came into my classroom to say hello, to give their condolences, and to wrap me up in their embrace. Two days down. Three more until the weekend. 

Wednesday...

The morning started out as the other two days did. I’d had a rough night the night before, but with a quick warning to my team that I may be in a funk that day, everything seemed fine. I should have known better. The episode I’d had the night before should have been the red flag. After my phone call to my doctor’s office, I ran to the bathroom as the first teardrop fell. And soon after that first one, more followed. Then came the shortness of breath and the aching in my chest. 

I’ve never spoken to my reflection before, but Wednesday morning, I did. I told myself to pull it together and to fight to get through the day, but that only made me cry even more. It was May 17th - the two month anniversary of Kaia’s birth - and her death - and I wanted to be at home. I wanted to be where she was. And that’s exactly where I went. I got home, headed straight to where she was and I held her. I held her as my husband, who had the day off, held on to me until I fell asleep. I slept the day away...with my daughter right where she should have been all along. 

[kaia-nohea]

What a Wonderful Day in the Neighborhood!

I haven’t posted anything in a while for fear that I may be a little too depressing, but that’s what I am. I’m depressed. There is no sugar coating this. It’s ugly in my head. It’s an absolute disaster. There are so many voices ringing in this head of mine that when I think I’ve got the hang of silencing one, another has something else to say. It’s a constant battle in there and some days, I lose. Other days, however, like today, I win. However fleeting the victory and the feeling of jubilation that follows it, I savor it. I celebrate, because at the end of the day, the smallest victories make the biggest difference. 

I finally found the will to get out of the house on my own today without coaxing. I met up with a friend, had a nice lunch date with her and we spent hours talking about anything and everything. As I sat across from her, listening to her tell me stories of her children, I found myself thinking, “holy crap, the sky is so blue! It’s such a nice day today!” 

And it shocked me. 

It was the first time in the last two months that I’ve been able to appreciate all the beauty there is around me. The sky was blue. So, so, blue with not a single cloud in the sky. The sun was shining and I could feel the heat of it on my skin. I wasn’t numb. It didn’t feel like the world kept turning and turning while I wasn’t moving on. I was. For the first time in what feels like a very long time, I was moving forward. I saw, felt, heard, and smelled everything and it was so freeing. I was free. 

But it was only for a moment. I walked into an empty home with no baby, no life, just silence. It was then that the tears came and I was, once again, overcome with grief. The depression setting in. The guilt of the joy and happiness I felt too much, I nearly crumbled. The voices attacked all at once:

“Why are you smiling?” “You shouldn’t be happy.” “You’re not ready to face what’s outside.” “You should go to bed, crawl under the blankets and sleep the rest of the day away.” “Don’t you miss her?” “You’re going to forget about her if you keep this up.” “How can it be a good day when she isn’t here to make it great?” “You left her. How could you?” “Stay where she is. You need to be with her.” “This...this is how you should be feeling every day. This is where you need to be.”

So on and so forth. And they are so...freaking...loud! These damn voices - they’re living, breathing entities conjured up by my grief and depression, conjured up by the deafening silence only to call forth destruction and doubt in my head. Voices that belong neither to myself nor to the ones I love, who love me back. It’s a constant battle of wills in my head, a battle between truth and lie, but I have to fight. I have to sift through and endure the bad, get injured by it sometimes if it means I get to experience a day like today again. I have to fight. For myself, my loved ones, and most of all, for the one who deserves it the most. I fight for Kaia. I fight for my daughter. 

[kaia-nohea]

Fighting

Kaia was cremated. We wanted her at home, we wanted her close, where we could keep an eye on her. It wasn’t how I pictured taking my baby home, but she’s home nonetheless. I thought things would get better. I thought with her at home that I would find some semblance of peace and comfort, but I feel anything but peaceful or comforted. In fact, my depression seems to have gotten worse. Having her home, her urn, makes my reality all the more real. All the more true. 

Before her memorial, there were some good days in the midst of the bad ones, but this time, I seem to have more bad than good. Tears come when I least expect them and the anger never goes away. It just simmers, waiting for the most inopportune moment to boil over and explode, my poor loved ones need to duck and cover.

 I’m told that I’m strong, that my resilience is something to be admired, but I don’t feel strong. I’m just really good at acting like I am when in reality, I’m screaming inside - a blood-curdling scream that illustrates perfectly the horrific reality I live with every day. I’m quite surprised I haven’t yet crumbled to the floor. The Lord knows I’m close to doing so. 

But I haven’t. I still keep going. As I said in the previous entry, the world keeps going, the sun will rise again and again, and I wake up every morning not because I want to, but because I have to. I have to find a way to move on, to find my new normal, whatever normal means these days. I have to. I have no choice in the matter. My daughter may be gone but I am still a mother and Kaia deserves more than a mother who would gladly sleep through the rest of her days. My Kaia is worth all the strength I can muster. Kaia is more than worthy of a mother who fights to be worthy of her. She’s my why. 

[kaia-nohea]

Existential Crisis

Today marks three weeks since I lost my daughter, Kaia, and today, had she survived pregnancy, she would have been a week old. I should be gloriously exhausted, disheveled from lack of sleep, from waking up every other hour to feed her, but instead I’m sitting at home with my mom and my husband (not that there is anything wrong with this), childless and everything around me reminds me day in and day out that my baby did not come home with me. 

Wake up, eat, sleep, repeat. Wake up, eat, sleep, repeat. Wake up, eat, sleep, repeat. 

There isn’t much I can say that I’m sure hasn’t already been said by grieving mothers everywhere, but it truly feels as though everything has stopped. I’m at a standstill while the world continues to spin on its axis and people go on living their lives. I’m standing on the outskirts of my own life watching as everything unfolds around me and I am powerless to do anything about any of it.  And do you want to know what the messed up part is? I don’t want to do anything about it. At least not right now. 

In the last three weeks, I have been tethered to a roller coaster of emotions. One moment I’m at the top of the world, feeling like I can conquer anything, and then in the next moment, I’m falling, my eyes to the ground and indifferent to the feeling that I could hit the bottom at any moment. This is grief. These are the after effects of having lost someone so precious to me, someone I loved more than my own life and still love, and I am doing my best to navigate this path I’ve been led to follow. 

One day, maybe not anytime soon, but one day, there will come a time when I look back at this particular season in my life and smile. And maybe even look back at it with thankfulness that at one point in my life I knew what it felt like to feel a love so unconditional and selfless, to have hope, and to be able to dream of a life my heart so fiercely desired. Someday...but not today. 

Today, I will grieve and cry and maybe laugh and give a little smile. Today, I hope my words will reach the heart of another grieving mother, another woman who has to walk down a similar path, or another family trying to mend the broken and shattered pieces of their now forever changed lives, and let them know that they are not alone. 

Victory of the day: trying to put one foot in front of the other

[shamefulclutter]

#wcw #KateJackson as seen here in this brilliant art by the astoundingly talented @ocoulon #charliesangels #therookies #darkshadows #scarecrowansmrsking #makinglove #satansschoolforgirls #emptycradle #babyboom #topper #inmatesalovestory #icon #thesmartone