Hard times are not forgotten...

It’s been a tough month so far. There have been wonderful things, and some not so easy things.

We celebrated Rosie’s 5th birthday this time. I am still in shock that she is already that big. We stayed with the kids for the birthday celebration, and when we are there, we sleep in Rosie’s room. That morning she popped up out of bed and said, “Mimi! It’s my birthday! I’m 5 years old!” She ran over to my bed and jumped in my arms to be held and cuddled. Those moments make life worth living.

We are getting ready to move closer to our kids, and I have been going through pictures again. I have a couple of picture projects brewing in this busy head of mine, and I know I will get them done as soon as it is possible. I found a picture of Lauren where she is wearing a beautiful red bow shaped like a rose in her hair. She and I both loved that bow so much.

I was cleaning out my nightstand and there it was... that beautiful bow. Seeing it in her hair on the photo and then seeing it in my hand was too much for me. Like I have described before, it is like being stabbed in the heart. I hurt all over and broke down crying. I know it is part of this whole process, but it does not make it any easier.

Sometimes I find myself saying things I should not say- something stupid or inappropriate for the situation I am in, and I just don’t know how it happens. I said something and immediately apologized and I think I was forgiven, but I couldn’t forgive myself so easily. I need to work on doing that better. In the scheme of things, it was just a stupid remark, but I hurt myself so deeply, because I felt so bad.

So I will concentrate on my sweet girl’s birthday, and how much I love them both. They are healing for me, as I have said before.

My sweet girls o their family birthday celebration. 

We love our big girl! 

Just been out of sorts a bit lately

Getting old is the pits. There I have gone and said it. And not only getting old, but struggling with my new found friend Hashimoto's has made me feel out of sorts for the last few months. I have had hypothyrodism for several years, and have now been diagnosed with Hash'is. I also have another "friend" who causes me a bit of aggravation, and that is my elevated left  hemi-diaphragm.

This whole mess started when I went to a "wellness" visit last December. They saw something on my chest X-Ray that caused them to pull me aside and put me in a room where being frightened out of my wits, I thought I must be dying. I have been to a pulmonologist (lungs are fine) who sent me to a bariatric surgeon, because she was convinced I had a hiatal hernia and my intestines were stuck up in my diaphragm. The bariatric surgeon sent me for some (awful) tests which determined I had no hiatal hernia, but I do have moderate acid reflux (which I knew and was being treated for already). Now the bariatric surgeon has sent me to a thoracic surgeon, who I will see at the beginning of August. He'll talk to me about my elevated diaphragm and what can or cannot be done about it. The diaphragm causes me to be short of breath a lot of the time, and I am even prepared to tell him when I think it happened. In the midst of all of this my endocrinologist is monitoring my thyroid, which has some small nodules on it apparently. And to think, I knew none of this until I went to a wellness visit. SIGH.

I have been trying to keep my head up and ask God for grace, wisdom and understanding (not patience) throughout this whole ordeal. I could be a lot worse off, and I know that. The Hashi's makes me hyper-sensitive at times, where I get my feelings hurt easily or get angry about stupid things very  quickly. One Facebook group I am in has helped me tremendously - I hear other people relate the same things. I am trying to maintain my diet and exercise regimen. I don't get too caught up in all of the different diets and do and don’ts because it stresses me out too much. Since I was diagnosed with Hashi's I have cut back on gluten and carbs, and have lost about 12 lbs. 

Being hypersensitive is not good for grieving mothers. I have cried more in the last 6 months than I have in forever. Most days, I feel like I cannot express myself without making someone mad, or hurting someone's feelings or just feeling like it is the end of the world. I am not depressed, I just feel overly sensitive most of the time. For me, this is really hard, because I have always been sensitive, especially if I thought I hurt someone. I worry about that more than just about anything. I have always hated conflict, and I think I always will. 

I recognize my own ability to overcome that feeling by focusing on the positive, praying and getting up and out of my routine. Walking and praying seems to be a good cure. I think I have prayed the Our Father, Hail Mary and the Fatima Prayer more in the last six months than I ever have. 

I am hoping to get the diaphragm issue resolved one way or the other in August. I'll either get it fixed (if it is not too invasive) or live with it. The Hashi's is here to stay. You just have to manage it. 

"Do not be saddened this day, for rejoicing in the LORD is your strength!”

Year B is riding the struggle bus

I am on the struggle bus this week. Last weekend I ran to Birmingham for an overnight trip to check on our condo, which is now getting ready to be put on the market. Our tenants, who were international students from Saudi Arabia, moved back to their country. We decided to sell instead of rent again. They have been renting for four years, and we feel like we are ready to get rid of the condo now.

I ran over on Friday to check out the condo (code for "to see the grand babies") and came back the next day. I started trying to put my house back in order from the holidays on Saturday evening, and got up Sunday to play at our 8 am mass, go to the grocery and then came home to take down Christmas decorations and put them away, which took me until the evening. I have to say, I am sore all over and worn out.

Last Sunday we celebrated Epiphany, even though it was technically the day before (thanks, Bishops). I get to mass to set up my music, and someone is trying to figure out the readings and set up the book.  Father is not yet there to clear up the confusion.

They are complaining that they can't find them. I say, "It's Epiphany." (And, I don't play for the mass every Sunday of my life, so I wouldn't know).

She says, "I think it is the 2nd Sunday after Christmas." I said, "Yes, but we are celebrating Epiphany today. The Bishops have decided to celebrate it today instead of yesterday. It's Year B, so look up Epiphany and you will find the readings listed in the missal today."

She finally finds them and some guy who gets to church early every week, and who was obviously eavesdropping, says, "Epiphany is January 6. Today is January 7."  SIGH...

Year B is going to wear me out. I just know it. We already had the debacle of Christmas Eve being the 4th Sunday of Advent, and whether or not Jan. 1 was a holy day of obligation this year. Now I find out Ash Wednesday is on Valentine's Day and Easter is on April Fool's. Go away, Year B.

Anticipation and sadness...

This past three weeks of summer have basically been horrible.  First, we lost Ellen, the mother of Dawn, one of my best friends. She had been very sick and in the end was in hospice care at home. My poor friend and her brother and other family put their lives on hold, but were blessed to be there when she passed away.

We went to her visitation on a Sunday, but on the Thursday evening before, my other best friend Michelle's  21-year-old son Christian and two his friends were hit by a drunk driver traveling on the wrong side of the interstate. The driver and the passenger (Christian) both suffered broken bones, but praise God they are on the mend. After some complications, he has recovered enough to eat solid foods again. Both he and one of the other girls, Maria, who was in the back seat, are members of our parish. The young lady in the back seat has been in an induced coma in ICU, and was finally moved to a step down.

Three days ago, my sweet friend Janet lost her mother. Her mom had broken her hip, but was doing better. She died peacefully in her apartment. Tonight, a week after Dawn's mom's visitation, we went back for Janet's mom.

Last week, one of my former students, a young man of 25, passed away. TJ was the kind of kid that lit up the room when he came through the door. He was like my Lauren in that respect. TJ loved journalism- like me, he had "newsprint" in his blood. He had worked for his father's cousin at his newspaper, and loved every minute of it. TJ served as the editor of our college newspaper, and the job he did was spectacular. Like me, he had faced the death of a loved one. His older sister Jessica, who was the same age as Lauren, died in a car accident right when TJ was finishing high school. TJ never got over her loss. He and I talked a lot about it, but I knew it tortured him.

He had a rough go of it, and I won't go into details, but he did come and see me about a month ago. We had a wonderful visit and he seemed very positive again. He asked me for a recommendation for a job he was seeking, and I was happy to help him.  We parted after a long talk and I never saw him again after that. When I learned of his death, I was heartbroken. For him, for his parents, for his little sister Chloe, and for myself. I have lost someone I truly loved, once again. I spent an hour with his parents and sister, the other day. We talked about TJ, and his mother told me that he loved me too. It gave me peace of mind, but my heart is still broken for these people who have lost two children they loved. I understand their pain, but could not imagine having to go through losing another child. I pray for them and ask God to comfort them and bring them peace.

The one bright spot in this summer is that we are weeks away from the birth of our granddaughter. We have learned since I wrote before that her name will be Rosemary Lauren. She will be called Rosie. I cannot wait to hold her in my arms. I know she will be precious, as all children are, and I will be proud to be her Mimi.

As I contemplate sweet Rosie, I miss my Lauren really badly. I know she would be so happy over this baby who bears her name. I believe in my heart, that Lauren knows all about her and loves her already.

Dear Lord, we ask you for a safe delivery for Rosemary, and for her parents. I pray for Dawn and Janet, and TJ's family in their grief. I pray for Michelle, as she faces this long journey of Christian's recovery and for Christian as he embarks on that journey back to health. I pray for Maria, for her healing and for her return to her family, and most especially to her young daughter. 
Lord, hear our prayers. Amen. 

My prayers for everybody else

I was thinking about my blog today, and wondering what to write about.

Something that bothers me a bit is that while I write this blog for everyone, I really do feel called to help grieving parents. The realization came to me that I probably make a lot of people nervous. I mean, my experience is most parents' nightmare. I feel so sorry for everyone I know, really. They know what happened to me and I know it is hard for people sometimes when I share experiences for them.

I have said that I wouldn't wish my experience on my worst enemy if I had one. I also said I pray that no one else has to go through what I went through. I know that seems unrealistic. But I still pray because I believe what Jesus said in Matthew 19:26... Jesus looked at them and said, "For human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible." That leaves me with the hope that none of the people I love will ever have to go through my experience.

I am so thankful for my friends and my co-workers (who are also, thankfully, my friends), and for their patience and understanding toward me. I am so grateful that they let me share about Lauren even if they never met her, and they understand my need to keep her memory alive. I am really sorry if it makes people realize that great fear in their own lives.

If I could give other parents any advice on how to deal with that fear, I would. I don't know how to cope with it still. I worry about my son every day like I have since the day I knew he was on the way. I will worry and fret for his safety every day, until I am too old to realize it, or I am gone home. That fear never goes away. Even after losing a child, I still face the same fears every parent faces every day.

All I tried to do with my kids is what I hope every parent does. I taught them about God and His Son. I tried to set as good a Christian example for them as I knew how. I took them to Mass every Sunday, and holy day of obligations, and made sure they made their Sacraments. I prayed for them and tried to shield them from things that would cause sin to come into their lives.  I taught them to take responsibility when they did wrong, and how to say they were sorry to the one they hurt and to God.

I know at least some of those things stuck because many people told me of the little acts of love and kindness they experienced with Lauren, and I see the wonderful young man my son has grown into. He is kind to other people and loves his wife and his family and friends fiercely. He gives back to his community when he is able, and has a heart for those who are not as fortunate as he is.

I believe that Lauren is with our Lord now, and I pray that I will one day be there too. For now, I will pray for peace, and for safety and good health for everyone else.

Growing in Grace (I dropped my lunch today)

I recounted this incident on Facebook right after it happened, but I will repeat it just the same.

This was my post:

"So, I was walking across the street from the parking lot to my office when the bottom of the Bath and Body Works paper bag I was recycling for my lunch bag gave way and my lunch went everywhere. I picked all of my lunch up, piece by piece off the ground and stuck it all in my gym bag until I could get inside. Someone said, "What a way to start the day!" I was actually really calm about it, because the thought struck me that I at least had a lunch to pick up. So, thank you Lord for the food you have given me today. And I pray for those who don't have anything to eat." As of this writing, 52 of my friends "liked" my post. 

I really kind of surprised myself, quite frankly. Usually,  I get really mad over little things like that, and have been known to utter a curse word I shouldn't utter on occasion. In other words, I don't have much patience with little things like traffic, dropping things, stubbing my toe or hitting my head. I am still mystified at why I reacted the way I did, but I am grateful I did. 

In retrospect, I hope that I am growing in grace. I have prayed that I would, and maybe the Lord is answering that prayer. 

Last Friday, I had the opportunity to ask forgiveness of a stranger (well, she is in my Zumba class, so she is not a complete stranger.) A while back, she and I had a little run-in at Zumba. Without going into details, I will admit I lost my patience (and my temper) and said something sort of mean to her. I didn't like her (or so I thought). I apologized, and she immediately apologized for what she had done, and then in the midst of our conversation I mentioned Lauren. As it turns out, she runs a hospice. She is also a grief counselor. Long story short, I told her I would be willing to talk to a grieving parent if I am needed. What a gift! I asked God to grant me opportunities to help others who are grieving. Those of us in the same "club" understand each other, and there were others who helped me. 

I hate to talk in cliches, but as I have heard it said in the past, "God isn't finished with me yet." I certainly hope not. I hope He will give me lots of opportunities to grow in grace.