I Was Doing So Well....Or So I Thought?

Ever tried holding an intense emotion in so badly that you really feel like you're going to cry, whether you're happy or sad?

I've been conducting a bit of an experiment on myself, because that's me, the weirdo. The experiment you ask? To see how long I can go in between tearies! {or tearful moments, if you didn't get that}

This time, I lasted 4 days! I was so proud. Mind you, I'd been sick and in bed all week so I've done nothing but sleep, no time for waterworks. I managed to scrap myself out of bed long enough to get some groceries and the Husband suggested we go for a drive. So we did. And then it hit me.

All I did was look at my left hand on the steering wheel as I stopped for petrol and the tears started. You'd think something blaringly obvious would make you cry. But I think I'm in this permanent state of fragility now. All it took was to join some perfectly unrelated, unconnected dots. The dots being sunspots on my hands.

These sunspots are so pale you can hardly see them. But the closer I looked at them, the closer I got to deciding I'm turning into my mum. AGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH. Avert your eyes! Avert your eyes!

Her skin, her dehydrated, sun blemished skin. Her sunspots. Her build. Her face. My own nose, but her face. Ugh. "You look so much like your mum". Ugh. Please stop. I've stopped looking in the mirror in case I catch a glimpse of me turning into her!

So I cried and kept driving. And sobbed. And told stories of her to my Husband that I've told hundreds of times before. I just wanted to relive all these nice moments in our life together. And then I had a lightning bolt moment. {and yet still, kept crying}.

I am denying she's gone in some weird way because if I acknowledge she's gone, I'll be in more pain than I'm in now. That's why I have really "quick" tearful moments and haven't spent days under my doona. I'm afraid to believe she's gone.

So I stopped crying, brushed myself off, apologised to my Husband and took a deep breath. Maybe I need to stop being so hard on myself. No more experiments on myself in this state, I don't have to be tough for anyone.

I really am starting to believe that I'm only doing well because part of me is in denial. If I think too much of the truth, the crushing pain will get worse. I'll get there eventually. Just gotta suck it up and give myself time.

Goal #1 Shred 10kg by Christmas Morning

I want to wake up on Christmas Day 2013, knowing I am 10kg lighter than I was on October 24th, 2013 and I am on my way to feeling more positive about myself and my health going forward.

I have been inspired into action, not only because I suffer from arthritis in most of my joints, as well as Reynauds Phenomenon which causes excruciating pain throughout most of my day and I want to feel good physically, but I want to achieve something I can work really hard towards. The powerful book "Motherless Daughters" is another key factor pushing me towards this new transformation. It has given me a different perspective on how grief influences a young person's mind and body and has allowed me to find a new focus.

I'm competing with my angel Mum, I need to live past 58 years of age. I don't want heart disease to get the best of me before my time. I want to take control of my lung function and I want my energy back.

I want my stress level to half and my blood pressure to remain within normal limits. I want to sleep well, not just 50% of the time, I want to sleep soundly every night. I want to crave the rush of feeling great after a work out. I want whatever I can get of my pre-babies body back. I want to feel comfortable in my clothes and I want to shop in stores I've not been able to since I had my kids.

I know I can do it. I will stay focused.

The Gain Is The Greatest-

When I found out I was to become a Mum for the second time, with such a long time "in between drinks" (almost 5 years), I set myself some goals. I like to be organised and plan ahead. I also like worry and cause myself undue stress but that's another story.

I had a few things floating around with all the hormones that wouldn't leave my mind. I wanted a C/S due to my previous birth experience, which felt everything but natural. I wanted midwifery-led care. I wanted (as close enough to) immediate skin to skin with my new child. I wanted the baby to stay with me unless either of us was too unwell. I wanted to give birth at the Women's. But most importantly of all, I wanted to breast feed. For as long as Lauren-ly possibly.

With a bunch of ticks on my checklist, I find myself perfectly content when thinking of how my second birth experience eventuated. I got everything I wanted and I got a beautiful daughter and sister for my beloved boy.

After facing every possible breastfeeding problem, small and large, under the sun, Ruby and I battled on. I love feeding her. It makes me feel close to her and makes me feel like I'm continuing to provide for her as I did before her birth. Feeding her provided me with warmth and comfort when I truly and utterly needed it the most, warmth that no one else but a tiny, reliant, new human being can give their mother. I needed to feed her and keep our bond strong when I lost my mum. I fed her within an hour of finding out I had lost my mum and it soothed my confused mind. I fed her before Mum's funeral service, which calmed my nerves. I fed her after the service, during a short moment where I don't think I could ever feel as alone in the world as I did sitting there beside the empty chapel.

A smile from my daughter after a feed makes my day. It's like a tick of approval or a baby-sized thumbs up. We kept feeding through so much pain. I relied on this bonding time just as much as she did. My goal was to go as long as Ruby wanted to.

So with a heart heart (yet a much-relieved body), I'm gutted to say our feeding experience has now ended and Ruby is eating food and having a formula which so far, lovingly agrees with every part of her being. This has been Ruby's choice, or Ruby-led weaning. It is heart-warming to see her full Buddha-like belly rising and falling as she sleeps in her crib at night, but I really wish it was me who had made her full. Feeding her was the most wonderful experience as a mother I've ever had, other than actually giving birth. I felt accomplished, proud and like a woman (rather than a girl) for the first time in my life.

I really feel lost without being needed to feed her. She can already hold her own bottle. Feeling a bit dazed from lack of sleep and useless, even though she still needs me for everything. It feels like such a significant chapter in my life has come to its logical conclusion and the next means Ruby is moving out of infancy and into toddler-hood. Goodness. Time for number 3? I wish. Boob is still best. And thanks to my {angels} Mum and sister Jen for being so supportive of my choice to push through despite all the barriers and obstacles we faced. I really am so proud of myself, I have achieved something great from start to finish. I never EVER gave up. And gave my daughter her first taste of freedom of choice and independence!

Making Your Own Future

Your birth, parents, childhood, home, schooling, career, friends, family, environment and experiences combine to create the present you.

One of these can be a greater force in your making than the others. Once you realize that there is a fluidity between the past, present and future, you can move forward. 

Miniscule boundaries separate these parts of your time on Earth. You never should forget how you move from one to the other, who helped you there and who you said goodbye to along the way.

So many series of combinations join together in life. And at any stage, you have the power to sway the direction you're headed in, even up to 180 deg. 

At the end of your time on Earth, be proud of the pathways you travelled upon, even if some were rocky and led you to dangerous, dark times. 

The power of choice is always a power in your possession.

Make the right choices for you because no one else but you can.

one of "those" days....

9 degrees, hailstones, intermittent sunshine and icy cold winds. raining most of the day, grey skies and dark, angry clouds. happy monday everyone.
i finished the day as i started it: weary, emotional and slightly numb. with a nasty case of tonsillitis on the go, i spent the day trying to rest. sickness has a way of doing that to mums, trying to give you an outlet to suck up some much needed rest.
once the kids were safely at childcare and kinder, i painfully climbed into bed and snuggled up to something that has been hidden for at least 5 months. the scent, the warmth and the feel. closing my eyes, i imagined the last time she wore it. she probably didn' actually wear it, but it was next to other clothes she wore. and she must've walked past it many times a day when she was at home.
i wrapped the woollen garment around my shoulders, pretending it was one of her hugs. a combination of love with a smidge of smothering. how i wish i had that back.
i don't know why i've tried to hold in tears since mum passed away. i was always a "crier" before. today, i just couldn't cry. crying doesn't feel like enough anymore. crying was what i used to do. now my whole world has changed.
so i just laid there, in my dark room, listening to the storm pass. and thinking, i really feel lousy and i wish i could ring mum and sook. she'd give me advice that i already knew about or tell me to eat or drink something that i already was trying. she'd tell me to rest, which i was. she'd tell me to go to the doctors and get antibiotics, which i already did.
then i realized something. i may have moved past that place where i thought i was stuck, the place where i constantly needed mum's guidance and approval. and have ended up in a place where i just need her.
still no tears. this is a good thing. tears usually means irrational, upsetting thoughts for me and their absence today was much appreciated. already had a "crying headache" and hadn't even cried.
it's funny. i think about how i'm dealing with my emotions on "these days" and i am proud. i'm more rational than i've ever been, more calm than i was before. i'm making more sense, i'm relaxing more and really taking in each moment of my life, no matter how seemingly insignificant.
so snuggled up in her jumper, i closed my eyes and went to sleep. i didn't have my usual nightmares and upsetting thoughts about her, it was just a nice sleep. it's exactly what i needed on one of those crappy days.

Piece by Piece, I Let You Go

I had an ENORMOUS breakthrough yesterday. After it being recommended so many times over the last 6 months, I put my pride aside, shuffled my self-conscious thoughts to the left and had a bit of a group chat. With my parents.

This, on any other day, between any other daughter and mum/dad combo, would be quite normal. Mundane. But it's a whole new ball game when your parents are no longer living.

I always thought it was weird, for a friend or a colleague to say "I can see the turmoil in your eyes, you're finding it tough to let go, why don't you chat to Mum and Dad?" First of all, I have manners and prefer to look someone in the face, preferably eyes, when I speak to them. I can't do this with them! I don't like the sound of my own voice. They can't talk back! What if I cry? What do you mean IF Lauren, as IF you WON'T cry?!

So to say I thought this little chat I should supposedly undertake was weird was quite an understatement.
Weird's my forte, so I first of all thought I'd chat to Mum.

Driving home from work, I called out and asked if Mum could hear me, she'd need to listen for the next few minutes. This was the "conversation" that followed:

Hey Mum, so yeah, ummmmm, freaking out a little bit that this is the first time I've ummmmm started a conversation with you and you can't actually talk back.

Well, I miss you. I want you to come home. Ummmmm. I love you? I'm not sure what else to say because this is still a little, just a tad, slightly WEIRD. Anyway, I need to stop now and concentrate on the road. Bye.

And with that, I pulled up in the drive way and noticed that I did feel a bit numb. From the elbows down. I was shaking a little. Pulled myself together, took a deep breath and went inside for the night. Hmmmm, that went okay, I'm okay. Lightning didn't strike me down.

The next morning, I realized that if I wanted to find out if this "chat with the angels" convo thingy would work or help me, I'd really have to keep working at it. But I didn't for around 4 weeks.

Yesterday was the day I decided to talk to Mum again. This time, I was sitting at home, with my daughter asleep in her crib having her morning nap, husband at work and son playing happily (hopefully) at kinder.

Chat #2 as follows:

Mum, I'm back. Where the hell are you? And why haven't you given me any goddamn sign that you're somewhere safe? I'm pissed that you had to leave us. I'm pissed that you left me and someone somewhere thought you were needed elsewhere. I bloody need you here! (insert sobbing here)

I miss you Mum. And if Dad's with you, I'll get to you later, Dad. I miss you so much Mum that I feel like my chest is caving in, most days. Some days, I wake up and I can't even breathe, it's that bad. I used to feel so horrible when I listened to you speak about your Mum's death, now I'm living in that same kind of limbo.

(insert very dramatic crying here)

Anyway, I can't keep talking to you when I'm all by myself because you won't be able to understand me through all the crying so just give me a sign that you can hear and understand me.

*Ruby wakes up*- thanks Mum, not the sign I was after but hey, no worries.

So I stopped silent. Tears streaming down my face, I called my husband. Bawling like a tiny toddler, I explained to him that I'd just had a chat to Mum, which probably sounded more than a bit strange to him. He calmed me down and I got off the phone, wanting to ring him again, but I forced myself to turn off my phone.

It was not even five minutes later when I was watching a recorded episode of One Born Every Minute that I noticed something. The woman was about to have a C/S, she was expecting a little girl, was going to name her Ruby, and her mother's name was Margaret. I took this as my sign from Mum and immediately jumped back on the couch to talk to her again.

Calmly, I started again.

Hey Mum, it's just me again. I've just seen something really freaky on TV and thought I'd keep our conversation going. I've stopped crying, you'll be happy to know. If you can see me, you'll know that's a lie (wiping away rivers of tears now)

I wanted you to know that it wasn't my idea to talk to you this way. But I didn't know how else to let go of all this stuff I'm holding on to.

Someone said it would be good for me to tell you exactly how I'm feeling. So here goes. I love you Mum and I'm not angry with you for leaving. I acknowledge you were sad and lonely and that I couldn't fix you no matter how hard I tried. If I had've been there when you left, instead of Jen, who knows what would've happened. I know that I wouldn't have coped and I guess, as horrible as it was, that is a gift from Jen. She took those moments of utter pain from me so part of this really would be easier for me. So yeah, I am grateful.

I understand that even though I never wanted you to go and you are the only person who understood how much I needed you (and still do), I'm okay with what has happened. I can't change it. So I'm trying to move forward. Only baby steps but I am moving. Please understand that I know you would be so distressed to know you have left us too soon, but you don't have to be. Parts of your life were so distressing. I know that. I couldn't help you and I really wish I could fix you and have you back with us.

I have never missed anyone like I miss you. I can't believe it has happened, after 6 months of living in a dream land. Some days, I just stare in to space then close my eyes, hoping that when I open them, I'll have a missed call from you.

I have this recurring thought that somehow, you thought your life was a waste. I don't know why. But it wasn't Mum. It did end too soon, but look at who you brought up. Two women, two mothers and wives who really care about each other and really love their families. You've gotta be proud of that right? If we are your greatest achievement, that is awesome. I'm proud of you.

Half a box of tissues later, I said goodbye to a small piece of Mum and a small piece of myself. The piece that was stopping me from being able to voice how I've really felt after 6 months of intensely confusing times.

The piece I let go was a part of the sadness that I've felt. The part of me that stood by Mum's coffin that day after my 31st birthday, not knowing if it was actually her inside or if she would suddenly appear behind me with her warm hand on my shoulder in comfort and we'd grieve together for someone else whom we both knew and loved. I let go of the piece of me that hoped she was really still alive.

The part of disbelief that held onto that phone call from my sister "Lauren, Mum's dead". Those three words that I repeat every hour of every day. They are real now. I've been hoping it would sink it sometime soon. And now it has. My first real conversation with Mum, without her present. I let it go, with lots of tears and a lot of pain. And somehow I felt a little bit lighter.