Hard Afternoon
Hi Everyone,
So I had some errands to run this afternoon. Some stuff for Grace, some mindless stuff. First I returned Grace's at home medical chart to Comcare (the company that provided Grace's in home nursing). This was kind of weird but didn't seem to upset me much. When I dropped it off, the receptionist was very nice, she didn't ask any questions and I wondered whether or not she knew that I was returning it because my baby died. This thought often crosses my mind. I could be doing something completely unrelated to Grace... like standing in line at the grocery store, and I'll catch someone looking at me, this will make me wonder whether they can tell by my look or the vibe that I'm giving off that my baby has died. Losing a child kind of results in an identity crisis. See if your spouse dies, you become a widow. You acquire a new title to describe to society your new reality. When your baby dies, what do you become? From the reading I've done on the subject, it is suggested that you continue to refer to your self as a parent, even if the child that has died is your only child and you are no longer able to actively parent. But this doesn't really cut it. Strangers in idle conversation have asked me if I have children since Grace has died and I respond "Yes". They smile and ask "boy/ girl, how old etc.?" I then respond "girl, 2 1/2" and try to divert the conversation to their children. It seems unfair to shock them with the "detail" that Grace has died. However this response does not describe to society my new hellish reality. Why is there no "new title" to describe a parent who has lost a child? To help us communicate to others our new reality without having to shock them with "my child has died." I think there is no title because it's not suppose to happen, parents should not have to bury their children.
Anyways, I continue with my errands and go to the Winners at Dorval and the QEW. Next to this Winners is a Shoe Company. As I'm leaving, I see a women crossing the parking lot to enter the Shoe Company when a 3ish year old comes running behind her, only wearing a T shirt, it was quite cold today but I immediately assumed this was the result of this little spit fire insisting on dressing himself. He began screaming "NO MAMA NO!" His tone was similar to that of Grace's when she would plead with me to stop the a nurse from poking her arm for an IV start... He had the same desperation in his voice. Then he continued to say "NO MAMA NO... NO SHOPPING MAMA, PLEASE NO SHOPPING!" His mother then picked him up and carried him kicking and screaming into the Shoe Company. My heart broke and I was devastated for hours. I kept trying to convince my self that he was a well cared for child that was most likely just in a typical 3 year old power struggle with his mom regarding what activities would fill their afternoon. He was not being physically or verbally abused... just being brought shoe shopping... his mom was most likely picking him up winter boots due to our abrupt change in weather. I thought a lot about why this effected me so much... why witnessing this chain of events devastated me and dominated my thoughts for hours. I think it was because his tone was so desperate, pleading not to participate... so similar to how Grace would plead when she recognized that a painful medical procedure was eminent. In that moment I wished that I could rescue that little guy from his devastation... scoop him up and bring him to the park instead of the shoe store. So many times I was unable to rescue Grace because the solution was not as easy as bringing her to the park instead of the shoe store. I had to allow her pleas to go unanswered in hopes these painful medical procedures would save her life. I hope Grace understands this. I hope she knows that I would have answered her pleas and rescued her if I could. If you have the luxury of rescuing your toddler from what in there world is devastating with a trip to the park, ice cream... hell, even a puppy... do it for me. Rescue them if you can because many parents of sick kids can not rescue their children from devastation with these easy solutions.
Finally, I went to the pharmacy to drop off all of Grace's unused prescription meds. Do to the toxicity of many of these meds (chemo etc.) I can not dispose of them myself. Again, when dropping of the meds, I wondered... do they know that I'm returning them because my baby has died? I returned to the car for a good cry because I hated to give anything of hers away... even her chemo. I miss her so desperately... so much of what should have been will no longer be.
Mama misses you baby.
Les
So I had some errands to run this afternoon. Some stuff for Grace, some mindless stuff. First I returned Grace's at home medical chart to Comcare (the company that provided Grace's in home nursing). This was kind of weird but didn't seem to upset me much. When I dropped it off, the receptionist was very nice, she didn't ask any questions and I wondered whether or not she knew that I was returning it because my baby died. This thought often crosses my mind. I could be doing something completely unrelated to Grace... like standing in line at the grocery store, and I'll catch someone looking at me, this will make me wonder whether they can tell by my look or the vibe that I'm giving off that my baby has died. Losing a child kind of results in an identity crisis. See if your spouse dies, you become a widow. You acquire a new title to describe to society your new reality. When your baby dies, what do you become? From the reading I've done on the subject, it is suggested that you continue to refer to your self as a parent, even if the child that has died is your only child and you are no longer able to actively parent. But this doesn't really cut it. Strangers in idle conversation have asked me if I have children since Grace has died and I respond "Yes". They smile and ask "boy/ girl, how old etc.?" I then respond "girl, 2 1/2" and try to divert the conversation to their children. It seems unfair to shock them with the "detail" that Grace has died. However this response does not describe to society my new hellish reality. Why is there no "new title" to describe a parent who has lost a child? To help us communicate to others our new reality without having to shock them with "my child has died." I think there is no title because it's not suppose to happen, parents should not have to bury their children.
Anyways, I continue with my errands and go to the Winners at Dorval and the QEW. Next to this Winners is a Shoe Company. As I'm leaving, I see a women crossing the parking lot to enter the Shoe Company when a 3ish year old comes running behind her, only wearing a T shirt, it was quite cold today but I immediately assumed this was the result of this little spit fire insisting on dressing himself. He began screaming "NO MAMA NO!" His tone was similar to that of Grace's when she would plead with me to stop the a nurse from poking her arm for an IV start... He had the same desperation in his voice. Then he continued to say "NO MAMA NO... NO SHOPPING MAMA, PLEASE NO SHOPPING!" His mother then picked him up and carried him kicking and screaming into the Shoe Company. My heart broke and I was devastated for hours. I kept trying to convince my self that he was a well cared for child that was most likely just in a typical 3 year old power struggle with his mom regarding what activities would fill their afternoon. He was not being physically or verbally abused... just being brought shoe shopping... his mom was most likely picking him up winter boots due to our abrupt change in weather. I thought a lot about why this effected me so much... why witnessing this chain of events devastated me and dominated my thoughts for hours. I think it was because his tone was so desperate, pleading not to participate... so similar to how Grace would plead when she recognized that a painful medical procedure was eminent. In that moment I wished that I could rescue that little guy from his devastation... scoop him up and bring him to the park instead of the shoe store. So many times I was unable to rescue Grace because the solution was not as easy as bringing her to the park instead of the shoe store. I had to allow her pleas to go unanswered in hopes these painful medical procedures would save her life. I hope Grace understands this. I hope she knows that I would have answered her pleas and rescued her if I could. If you have the luxury of rescuing your toddler from what in there world is devastating with a trip to the park, ice cream... hell, even a puppy... do it for me. Rescue them if you can because many parents of sick kids can not rescue their children from devastation with these easy solutions.
Finally, I went to the pharmacy to drop off all of Grace's unused prescription meds. Do to the toxicity of many of these meds (chemo etc.) I can not dispose of them myself. Again, when dropping of the meds, I wondered... do they know that I'm returning them because my baby has died? I returned to the car for a good cry because I hated to give anything of hers away... even her chemo. I miss her so desperately... so much of what should have been will no longer be.
Mama misses you baby.
Les
posted by Lesley at 9:59 p.m.
1 Comments:
Leslesy,
I have to stop reading your blog at work. There is no easy explanation to my co-workers for my tears. My overwhelming thought is that by sharing what you are going through, you are helping so many people. Your honesty should be shared with a wider audience - I truly believe you should publish your work at some point so that more of the world can appreciate what you and what Grace have taught us. I thought my heart truly broke for you when you lost Grace, but it keeps hurting even more. I wish you much love and light, Cathy Marostica
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