nothing in return

Many of you have asked how my girls are handling this tragedy. I would like to say they are handling it like perfectly normal little champs. No issues here. Let's talk about Barbies and boys. For the most part, they are doing a pretty good job in their dealings considering the fact they both were at home when "all hell broke loose." They witnessed what no person should ever have to witness much less an innocent child.

I don't know if many of you know, I was "this close" to receiving my Master's in Psychology but opted to dump the program at the last minute because I knew I would never make it as a counselor. Mainly because, I'm a most impatient person and have found that people continue to make the same mistakes over and over and over again and well, I don't have it in me to ask "and how does that make you feel?" I'm just not that touchy feely. Sensitive? Yes. Patient? No. I felt I would be the therapist who would cause more harm than good by saying, "Snap out it you idiot! Get your shit together! How many times do we have to go over this and you still aren't doing anything about the situation? Move on! Blah, blah, blah, I had a shitty life too but I dealt with it (well, sorta) and I'm able to get to work and be productive. I think we need to just end this relationship. It's not me, it's definitely you." Let's just say, people would be needing more therapy AFTER coming to see me.

I also have an undergraduate degree in Art. So, during my graduate studies I began to combine Art Therapy into the mix. I found children (like most experts in the field) naturally use art to express traumatic events in place of articulating (or the inability to articulate) what really happened during such moments of the truly horrible and distressing. The line drawn by hand in little people can be even more powerful than verbalizing the event. Just like the written word can and at least for me, is cathartic and releasing; so can art release pent-up emotions for both young and old alike.

I bring up my background for many reasons. 1) People keep asking when I'm going to counseling. Answer: I'm grieving and am doing what a counselor would tell me to do. Journal, cry and go through all the stages simultaneously if need be. It's not like: a) Child dies. b) The next day you schedule an appointment to go to a counselor. I get up everyday, get my kid/kids ready for school, pick them up on time and make sure they are clean. The house and laundry? A TOTALLY different story. I don't get the chance to sleep all day and mourn in my stinky sweats (though, I do have to admit, I try to trick the carpool moms with my stinky non-rotational clothing. I think they are totally onto me.) I have to get up and move - for my kids. To make the abnormal seem as normal as possible. Though, admittedly, Tuesday, I did come home at 8:15am and went back to sleep until 12:30. I woke up feeling guilty that Rich doesn't have this luxury of sleeping all day and went to the grocery store for milk and coffee and was the first person in the carpool line. Acting like the ever sham of an actress that I am - I'm coping. All the while wanting to don on a t-shirt that states "how the fuck do you think I'm feeling right now?" I want to tattoo this on my forehead while walking through the store or paint my face with the words that state, "I'm grieving! I'm dying inside! Go right ahead and beat me to the finish line of the check out line, because I simply don't care. You are so insignificant to me." 

Quite simply, don't ask. I'll break down and cry on your ass and it's really not a pretty sight. I'm quite an ugly crier. Red uni-brow complete with a kool-aid 'stache. For the love of God, why couldn't I at least be a pretty crier? I've had pretty crying friends and have totally envied them but I am not one of them.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Celia came home from school the other day with a picture she drew in Art. She prefaced the picture with "Okay, this picture is scary but on the other side is happy." The one thing I would never judge would be her art or anyone else's. I believe in total expression, as one would say. I guess she was warning me of the yet unspeakable events from her mouth, speaking from her.

Here is her storyboard. I wonder what her Art teacher thought or didn't think about her "story."

(click on pictures to enlarge, if need be.) 

First, my scanner sucks and I had to trim a little off the top.

Scene #1 - Shows both Thalon and me in bed, happy and snoozing. Bassinet on the side of our bed.  What you can't tell is the circles on the bottom right side. This would be Thalon on the floor and me - to the left standing there getting ready to do CPR. Quite honestly, I don't remember her even being in the room at the time.  

Scene #2 - Would be EVERYONE'S screaming in the house. I'll leave it that. I could go more in depth but really, the lines pretty much say it all.

Scene #3 - Me doing CPR on Thalon in the living room. Squares represent the T.V. on the wall and the droplets on the bottom right, represent "the blood and snot that I was sucking out of his mouth."

Scene #4 - The three of them standing together with screaming all around them. Again, I had no clue what was going on with any of them other than I was concentrating on trying to revive my little man. The most surreal situation at hand. (Let me state for the record. I felt like I was in a bad Lifetime movie made for T.V. and Tori Spelling was playing me. Bad acting and all. Emotionless during most moments would completely describe me during such scenes.)

Scene #5 - The two EMSA (Emergency dudes) coming into our house to try to help Thalon.

and scene.

Part of me was horrified and part of me was proud that she was finally able to "verbalize" the unspoken with me about that day. You see, she is a quiet child. Very anxious by nature and internalizes EVERYTHING! From day one, she was a nervous and introspective little being.

She then showed me the other side of her masterpiece. "The real story of our family."

 

She told me, "this is how I see our Family."

While my heart was breaking into even more pieces I never thought could break, I realized, she's working all the unbelievable and surreal events in her mind out on paper. She's CHOOSING to remember us as a "happy family" vs. a "traumatic one."

Before I end this "just another sad post. Shana, where is your snarky side?" let me state,for the record, I will be sending her and Moira to a Psychologist to see if she/they are handling this the best way possible. When school ends. When the chaos simmers down a bit (if it ever will.) I don't claim to have all the answers in this grieving process for all of us but am trying my best to let Moira scream out everyday, "I miss Thalon!" 15 times while  Celia tries to shush her.  I remove Celia from the situation and let Moira say her peace, knowing full well, we are all grieving differently. Some of us better than others. Some of us more vocal than others. Some of us more nonverbal than the other.

I"m just trying to figure out where I fall into the mix. Trying to make sure everyone else is okay while feeling like I'm losing my shit, so to speak. Quite honestly, it's FINALLY hitting me this week - my precious little boy isn't coming back. My appendage, my link to possibilities and part of my soul really is dead. The finality of it all is so mind-numbing, I'm having a hard time breathing. I feel like I'm still giving CPR to my little one almost 5 weeks ago.

with nothing in return.

Comments

[Pam D]

Here, once again, with no magic words. Just prayer... and a hope and faith that says your family WILL be together again. Praying....

[missy]

peace be with you all.

[Barbara]

I'm sorry. It must be so hard. I can't even begin to imagine. I'm praying every day for all of you.

[Jen]

((((Hugs))) for all of you

[Bokker]

I'm not often moved to comment on blogs, but this is so sad, beautiful and true.
You have amazing children and you're doing all you can to help them.
When I think back to the time when my little sister died, I remember this sense of chaos, each of us grieving differently. Mum keening on the back steps at night, wrapped in a blanket. My sister and I (aged 19 and 23) sharing a bed each night. My brother silent. My Dad meditating ferociously. Sometimes I clung to them, sometimes I couldn't bear to speak to them. We felt like separate planets, thousands of miles apart but all orbiting around the same burning mass of her loss.
Five years later we're still grieving in different ways but, for better or worse, the chaos has settled.
Sorry. I've rambled. It's just that this post touched me.
Thinking of you.

[MemeGRL]

Amazing, amazing, amazing post. Amazing girls, and amazing you. And if you have cleanish clothes and are first in the carpool line, you are way ahead of me despite your far more challenging circumstances.
Thanks for sharing this. I'm in awe.

[Miri]

I really wish I knew what to say, something to comfort you, but I really don't have the words.
I make some pretty neat cookies, i could send some over. when i miscarried i fed them to my kids for breakfast,lunch & dinner so i wouldn't have to cook.
I wish I could be there to help you out so you could have time to sleep, things like that.
If there is anything i can do , make, send, bake,cook,knit,sew,buy.. please let me know.
i mean it, really.
you & your family are always in our thoughts & prayers.
Miri

[abigail road]

I've been wanting to leave a comment for a few days now, but I just didn't know what to say.

I am amazed by your strength, and the way you are able to keep going for your girls. Not everyone can do that, but you are, and that truly is amazing.

[Anna Marie]

You are amazing. Thank you for sharing.

[Treena]

I don't know what to say only that I am still thinking of you all every day.

[m]

god, that's so so sad. i'm so sad for you & your family. thalon was SO LUCKY to have you. life can be so terrible to those who deserve it the least. continuing to pray for you. you are doing a far better job than many could do- you are truly inspirational.

[Middle-Aged-Woman]

I am so sad for you. I am sending you hugs through the clouds, and love, too.

[Kris]

You are a very smart woman. I can't imagine how hard it is to get out of bed every morning, but I know that your girls are doing so well because of it. Your strength gives them strength. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

It's beautiful how Celia chose to express herself. It's beautiful that you recognize and support their different ways of grieving. You're a great mom.

K.

[Tricia]

You are an amazing Mom. Those pictures were incredible. The way children process things is amazing. I wish there was something I could say or do that would help. But, just believe that you are doing an amazing job of holding your little family together. And it's OK for you to fall apart too. If you need to sleep, sleep. You should do what you need to do, especially when your little ones are in school. Hang in there. Your writing is amazing. My mama heart is breaking for you.
Tricia x

[Alison]

It's wonderful that Celia drew that. Really. And I have every faith in you that you'll seek counseling when the time is right. I don't know what else to say...I have other things to tell you, but I'm afraid I can't put them into the proper words.

[Julia]

Well......if your writing is any indication of how well you are grieving, I would say you are doing it well. You have a such a way of pouring out the words. Between your daughter's art, the other daughter's verbal wailing and your journaling....I think your family is going to survive this tragedy. Survival is all we have.

Hopefully one day.....you will slowly morph into living again.

[Kellie]

It sounds to me like you are doing amazing. The fact that you are actually able to think about how the rest of your family is handling your terrible loss is amazing and frankly, probably beyond what *I* could do in a similar situation. When my son was stillborn, I wore stinky sweats for 2 years and we survived on Cheerios, powdered donuts and coffee. Seriously, when I finally got around to turning on a vacuum cleaner - which was months and months later, my husband and kids came running to see what the noise was thinking that surely a freight train had landed in our living room.

[Christine]

I love her picture of the "real story". Heartbreaking and beautiful. It's really great. You're doing such a good job for them. Thinking of you guys daily.

[Brenda]

You are remarkable. Enough said.

[Dianne]

I wondered how the girls were taking everything. I like that Celia is moving toward remembering the happy times. It's a lot for an adult to take in, let alone a child to understand and cope with. You all will get there. You'll never forget, but time will help you remember more of the good, like the smiles and laughter.

[Sarah]

wow, your Celia is an amazing little girl. Amazing what she portrayed in that drawing .. and for her age, remarkable that she told the story as it is pictured. To show the whole happy family on the other side, so heartbreaking for you no doubt. I think she is shushing Moira to protect you from having to hear that over and over .. you have amazing kids .. keep the communication open and they will be ok.

[Stephanie D.]

I read a statement recently that a mom wrote to her child and it has totally stuck with me:

"I loved you from the moment you were conceived, the moment you were born and every moment since then. I will love you always!"

I believe that your love for Thalon (for always) will help you as you grieve and will help you as you survive AND as you and your family thrive!

Much love to you all,
Steph

[LB]

I love the way she drew Moira's hair.

Thinking of you-
Lisa

[Lynn from For Love or Funny]

This is so repetitious, but I'm thinking about you. Every day.

I know I've written that so many times on your blog over the past 5 weeks, but...I'm thinking about you. Every day.

[Ashley Hast]

:( You're all in my prayers.