I've been debating for a while about this post. Whether I really had the guts to begin to talk about it, even to begin to think about it. Whether I really needed to work it out for myself or just I could let it keep sleeping, hidden under the surface. I think I need to... even though it's not the sort of thing I normally talk about. I mean, who really wants the darker parts of themselves on display? So, if you're looking for a cheerful, ain't life cute post, today ain't the day. (May I suggest LOLCats instead?) But if you don't mind digging in my psyche with me, come on along.
First and foremost, I'm an adrenaline junkie. Most pilots are. Even when I'm in total control of the aircraft, that adrenaline rush of landing, the kiss of tires on tarmac is beyond compare. I like speed - the faster the better. This is not to say I don't have common sense. I understand the need to control that demand for faster, higher, farther for the sake of others.
Living on that kind of edge is not a place for mothers. It's not fair to my children to put myself at risk like that. As long as there are lives that depend on me, it's my responsibility to put them first.
But I crave the danger. And it's not enough to speed or fly. There's a part of me that wants to be dangerous. That is dangerous. This is the part that lives deepest within. The part that screams with the need to express physical rage. The part that blinds that common sense. The calculating cruelty that I cannot seem to excise from my soul. Part demon, part merciless avenging angel.
I have no outlet for that part of me. Neither my vocations nor my avocations allow for violence. I am trapped: by my life, by my love, by myself. I'm fat, clumsy, and middle-aged; when I see my reflection as I exercise, I realize my only danger to others is if I sit on them. I'm hardly going to take up being an assassin or some such at this point in my life yet there is a deep part of me that needs to let that avenging angel soar.
In a few years, when all the kids are in school, I want to learn to sword fight. Yes, it's a useless skill (unless, of course, there's an apocalypse rendering ammunition impossible to come by - then it might be useful) but it calls to me. There are times I wonder whether another lifetime saw me metal-clad and armed. I don't know whether this "pretend" dangerousness will be enough to let the angel rest more quietly, keep the demon locked away.
It scares me, the need. Even as I physically crave the danger, the craving scares me.
Who am I to need that? Logically, it makes no kind of sense. Neither my place in life, nor my faith in God permits it. If I am to trust God, I am where I should be. And where I am distinctly precludes walking the edge.
On a wagon, bound for market
there's a calf that is born to die.
High above him, there's a swallow
winging swiftly through the sky.
How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.
"Stop complaining," said the farmer,
"Who told you a calf to be?
Why don't you have wings to fly with
like the swallow so proud and free."
How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.
Calves are easily bound and slaughtered,
never knowing the reasons why.
But whoever treasures freedom,
like the swallow, must learn to fly.
How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Feb 22, 2010
Nov 12, 2009
Jul 28, 2009
The Patience Poem
A friend recently sent me a poem she'd written about her experience with grief in losing a child. I'd like to share it here (with her permission). Thanks, Robyn for putting into words what is so hard for people to understand about we parents with children who are no longer with us. It's the first thing, she says, she's ever written. I hope it's not the last.
Patience…………..Understanding
When a child dies a part of you dies with that child
A future you dreamed about no longer exists.
Everyone waits on the side for you to move on.
Everyone wonders why you still may grieve from time to time.
Have they ever lost a child?
Can they really know what we are feeling?
Everyone must understand this loss is a life long journey.
Patience…………Understanding - that’s all one can do.
Those of us who have had a child die don’t want the pain or want to dwell on the past.
The pain is just there.
It eases up and gets easier, but the pain will live with us forever.
Forever because it’s a future we will never know.
Only a dream we dreamed.
Only a prayer we prayed.
Only a wish we wished.
Only a hope we had hoped.
Not a day goes by that we don’t think of our child that is not with us.
It may not be an all day affair wondering what they would be doing right now.
But it may be a song we hear
A moment we feel
A smell we come across
A short simple thought of that child who is not with us.
Just give us Patience……………Understanding
Our emotion, whatever it may be, will forever be with us.
Robyn Lloyd
Mother of Hailey
Born still May 31, 2008
July 2009
Patience…………..Understanding
When a child dies a part of you dies with that child
A future you dreamed about no longer exists.
Everyone waits on the side for you to move on.
Everyone wonders why you still may grieve from time to time.
Have they ever lost a child?
Can they really know what we are feeling?
Everyone must understand this loss is a life long journey.
Patience…………Understanding - that’s all one can do.
Those of us who have had a child die don’t want the pain or want to dwell on the past.
The pain is just there.
It eases up and gets easier, but the pain will live with us forever.
Forever because it’s a future we will never know.
Only a dream we dreamed.
Only a prayer we prayed.
Only a wish we wished.
Only a hope we had hoped.
Not a day goes by that we don’t think of our child that is not with us.
It may not be an all day affair wondering what they would be doing right now.
But it may be a song we hear
A moment we feel
A smell we come across
A short simple thought of that child who is not with us.
Just give us Patience……………Understanding
Our emotion, whatever it may be, will forever be with us.
Robyn Lloyd
Mother of Hailey
Born still May 31, 2008
July 2009
Jul 22, 2009
Another Dichotomy
I'm lucky. My interactions with the police - whether troopers or local officers - have always been polite and respectful on both sides. I have always found the people I have known - whether personally or in their professional capacity - to be professional, considerate, thoughtful folk who honestly care about people.
A post came across a listserv I'm on today that really appalled me and spat in the face of what my own experience has been of the police. (This is a listserv for people who have lost children and are either pregnant or trying to conceive afterward.) It just upset me so much that I have to relate it (in abbreviated fashion) here in the hopes that someone has some ideas on how this woman can keep other people from being treated this way or at least get an apology.
This woman lost her baby at 7 wks old. She called the ambulance when she went to check on her baby and the girl wasn't breathing. The paramedic told her she could ride in the ambulance. The police refused to let her, detaining her for hours. The baby was pronounced dead at 7:15 a.m., she wasn't even told for another 2 hours and 20 minutes. When she was finally allowed to see her baby, it was for less than a minute, the child was completely covered, and she wasn't allowed to hold her, touch her, or even uncover her to see her face or kiss her one last time.
They were demeaning and aggressive, tried to get her to say she did things she hadn't done and to confuse her statements. They wouldn't allow her husband to be with her. They made no bones about the fact that they thought she killed her baby. An autopsy showed no signs of any trauma and the cause of death was determined to be SIDS.
She accepts they had a job to do but, you know, that doesn't excuse cruelty. No apology was given. No expression of condolence. They never, even after the autopsy, returned any of the items with the baby at the time they took her from her parents - not even her pacifier. No wonder so many people don't trust the police!
In every field, there are good eggs and bad ones. It's that kind of police that give police a bad name - just as the sleazy attorneys that advertise on busses and cheesy TV ads give the honest ones a bad name. Just as there are far more honest attorneys than sleazy ones, I'm sure there are far more good and compassionate police than cruel ones but it's situations like this that just make my heart cry. I mean, for God's sake, they lost their baby - at very least have the courtesy to give back her pacifier and say "I'm so sorry for your loss."
As I said, I'm lucky. The police officers I know and have known are good people that go out of their way to be kind, even as they are professional - ones who take seriously the dictum "to protect and serve". I am grateful for them and, at one time, thought about becoming one (before my mother pointed out rather bluntly I was way too fat, way too clumsy, and way too blind). I think my rose-coloured glasses just got broken.
A post came across a listserv I'm on today that really appalled me and spat in the face of what my own experience has been of the police. (This is a listserv for people who have lost children and are either pregnant or trying to conceive afterward.) It just upset me so much that I have to relate it (in abbreviated fashion) here in the hopes that someone has some ideas on how this woman can keep other people from being treated this way or at least get an apology.
This woman lost her baby at 7 wks old. She called the ambulance when she went to check on her baby and the girl wasn't breathing. The paramedic told her she could ride in the ambulance. The police refused to let her, detaining her for hours. The baby was pronounced dead at 7:15 a.m., she wasn't even told for another 2 hours and 20 minutes. When she was finally allowed to see her baby, it was for less than a minute, the child was completely covered, and she wasn't allowed to hold her, touch her, or even uncover her to see her face or kiss her one last time.
They were demeaning and aggressive, tried to get her to say she did things she hadn't done and to confuse her statements. They wouldn't allow her husband to be with her. They made no bones about the fact that they thought she killed her baby. An autopsy showed no signs of any trauma and the cause of death was determined to be SIDS.
She accepts they had a job to do but, you know, that doesn't excuse cruelty. No apology was given. No expression of condolence. They never, even after the autopsy, returned any of the items with the baby at the time they took her from her parents - not even her pacifier. No wonder so many people don't trust the police!
In every field, there are good eggs and bad ones. It's that kind of police that give police a bad name - just as the sleazy attorneys that advertise on busses and cheesy TV ads give the honest ones a bad name. Just as there are far more honest attorneys than sleazy ones, I'm sure there are far more good and compassionate police than cruel ones but it's situations like this that just make my heart cry. I mean, for God's sake, they lost their baby - at very least have the courtesy to give back her pacifier and say "I'm so sorry for your loss."
As I said, I'm lucky. The police officers I know and have known are good people that go out of their way to be kind, even as they are professional - ones who take seriously the dictum "to protect and serve". I am grateful for them and, at one time, thought about becoming one (before my mother pointed out rather bluntly I was way too fat, way too clumsy, and way too blind). I think my rose-coloured glasses just got broken.
Nov 15, 2006
Everything We Got, We Got the Hard Way
The hardest part of this entire ordeal, I believe, is that there is no public recognition of the loss. There is no wake, no funeral, no gravesite to visit. It happened early enough for us that we don't even know if our deceased child was a boy or a girl. There is no name to etch into a permanent memorial.
Many people, typically those who have not gone through it, treat it as a medical issue and nothing more. To them, it is no different than breaking your leg skiing. They do not comprehend the agonizing clarity of my understanding that this was my baby. This was John Sevier or Evelyn Ann. This was Katie's sister or brother. John's and my daughter or son.
One coworker emailed me "try not to be too sad". Um, excuse me? And just how would you suggest I go about doing that? It strikes me, too, as being disrespectful to my husband, my daughter, and my baby. On top of that, what is "too sad"? Would she have written someone who lost their 1 year old "try not to be too sad"?
I want to thank everyone here who sent their thoughts and condolences and hugs and prayers; your messages were much more thoughtful and considerate. It makes it much easier to bear when other people are helping carrying the burden and not adding to it. I really appreciate each and every one of you.
Many people, typically those who have not gone through it, treat it as a medical issue and nothing more. To them, it is no different than breaking your leg skiing. They do not comprehend the agonizing clarity of my understanding that this was my baby. This was John Sevier or Evelyn Ann. This was Katie's sister or brother. John's and my daughter or son.
One coworker emailed me "try not to be too sad". Um, excuse me? And just how would you suggest I go about doing that? It strikes me, too, as being disrespectful to my husband, my daughter, and my baby. On top of that, what is "too sad"? Would she have written someone who lost their 1 year old "try not to be too sad"?
I want to thank everyone here who sent their thoughts and condolences and hugs and prayers; your messages were much more thoughtful and considerate. It makes it much easier to bear when other people are helping carrying the burden and not adding to it. I really appreciate each and every one of you.
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