It's hard to know where to start as the last 7 months has brought me to many new beginnings, in lots of areas of my life.
Starting my story might however be easier if I relive from January this year onwards.
It was hot. Stinking hot in Melbourne and I was bloody uncomfortable. I was 37 weeks pregnant and having enjoyed my baby shower, I was preparing to give birth to our second bubba and for the final time. It was to be a planned C-section {thanks to a rough first birth experience} and I had planned a lot of the details {as I tend to do} of the birth. I wanted my husband to be in there with me, to do the cord-cutting "Dad" stuff and I wanted my Mum, who was minding Bubba #1 at our place, to bring him in after the delivery to introduce him to his new sibling. We knew the sex of the baby from 20 weeks onwards. And thanks to a big OOPSIE by me, I let slip in the presence of Mum that the baby was a certain gender. And hopefully {yes, I can't ask her}, that she kept her promise not to tell a soul, even my excited sister who had made her mind up gender-wise what she thought her newest family member would be.
The birth was uneventful, apart from the fact that I was apparently in labour anyway and in the recovery room, it went a bit haywire. I was in pain and lots of it. In fact, I started to go a bit loopy. I was calling out for Mum and wanted her to come and get me and take me to her house. I was on repeat. I just wanted Mum. So once the morphine kicked in and I was back and settled on the ward with my new child, and I saw Mum, life was sweet again.
Mum walked into the room with my boy {Bubba #1} and met her newest granddaughter for the first time. It had such an impact on my inner light. I lit up from the inside. I got to feel how she felt. Having a baby girl to raise would be so much different than raising my son. I immediately started panicking about how much I didn't want her to be such an emotional and anxious person like me!
The first 5 weeks of Ruby's life were amazing. I was on maternity leave, enjoying the summer weather, spending lots of time at home with my son who was new to the kinder scene. It was just so perfect to be home with both of them. I missed out on leave with my son and went back to work to ease the financial pressure at home. Week 6 gave us our first curve ball. Ruby ended up in hospital with a stomach bug. We stayed {quite uncomfortably} overnight on the Cockatoo Ward at RCH, where her weight and feeding pattern was closely monitored. It was so hard to watch a tiny cannula be put into her wrist and to watch her have the tiniest amount of blood taken as routine. I felt sick to my stomach. I always felt like this when someone had to medically "tamper" with my son.
The morning after our admission, my Mum left work to come and visit us. As we all sat there waiting and waiting and waiting for a discharge time, Ruby was examined by trainee doctors. Her hip clicks in particular were examined by these doctors. I was the one who gave permission for them to examine her, which involved a little discomfort on Ruby's part. But Mum was the one who left the room in a mess when Ruby cried out and whimpered. I knew these people had to start learning somewhere and I gave them the go ahead to start learning here and with my tiny 6 week old daughter.
Mum was not okay with people touching her granddaughter. And making her whimper for any reason. I came down on her like a tonne of bricks because I reminded her I'm the mother and I make the decisions for Ruby. It was the first time I shocked myself as words left my mouth. I was upset she made a scene and was upset that she didn't trust me to leave Ruby in experienced hands.
As the days went by, I kept thinking about Mum's dramatic exit from the ward that day. It wasn't as much dramatic as it was honest. She was honestly distressed by what I let my child, her new granddaughter, go through. It's not that she didn't trust me. She just never liked to see or hear her family members in pain.
By week 10, I was in a wonderful routine of breastfeeding, washing, cleaning, {not so much} cooking, lots of playing, walking and planning the lives of my tiny family. Mum visited often, but not as often as I wanted her to {well, I wanted her to live with me, despite us clashing because we were so similar} and I felt instantly warmed by the affection in which she held my children. It melted me.
Week 10 is where my wheels were turning round and round nicely but Mum's wheel were starting to fall off. Mum went off work on stress leave and from what I gathered, she really was under the pump. Little did I know that a sinister and possibly sentinel health event had occurred which would begin her downward spiral.
I spoke to Mum every day. More than once a day. Usually about rubbish, but mostly about her and us. She told me she was very anxious. We had a lengthy discussion about really how gruelling hard my father's death was on her. 3 hours worth of her pouring her heart out about her anger, her grief, her heartache, her pain and her beliefs. We spoke about Dad almost weekly but this was the first time she actually voiced how angry the loss had made her.
This conversation was to be the last conversation I had with Mum where I believe she told the truth to me about how she was feeling. From then on, she tried to hide the reality of what could have been knowingly happening to her from me. Two weeks later, my Mum was to die.
The weekend before Mum died, Mum did a strange thing. After rejecting my offer of staying at our place with us, she called me back as I'd just gotten home from her place. She wanted me to come back and get her. This was unusual. I drove straight back, helped her pack her bag and loaded her in the car. We got to 5 minutes from my place on the highway and she said two sentences that I swear came from someone else but through her voice. These sentences were clearly spoken, but showed some ounce of confusion, resolution {as I was to find out}, forward thinking and reflection all at once. I will never repeat to anyone what was said, out of respect for my Mum. But it was a poignant moment and one that would shape my thinking for the next 7 months.
Mum spent the weekend snoring on the couch. Sleeping. Not eating much, sipping water when I got cross at her to. But she wouldn't move off the couch. By Saturday night, I was concerned enough to ask my sister to make the long drive to our place. She did so the following morning.
It was then that Mum managed to get herself off the couch, not showered still, but out into the fresh air of our yard and she sat and talked with my sister about a lot of things. Many things I wouldn't know about and I'm not sure at this point in time that I want to know. But I know enough now to say that by this point, I think my Mum knew she was going to leave us sooner than she'd ever expected.
She had apparently spoken of all the losses in her life and was questioning what she did to deserve so much heartache. My mother was beautiful inside and out. She didn't deserve the heartache, she was the LAST person that deserved an ounce of pain. She'd lost her mother, her father, one of her brothers and her most precious of all, her beloved husband. Only days ago, did my sister and I come to realize that maybe the largest and best part of Mum went with Dad that day, June 27th 2004.
She openly said her heart was racing, she was extremely stressed and very tired. And most importantly, that she was ready to go. I found this out after her death. Did she know what was about to happen and didn't talk about it with me out of fear that I'd have her hospitalized when all she wanted was to {hopefully} be reunited with her beloved husband? How did she know she was ready to go? Could she feel her body changing and was she giving up? WHY was she giving up when she'd lived for us our whole lives? She had grandchildren and her daughters to care for her. And I keep repeating every day- I guess we just weren't enough anymore.
She had agreed to make some changes in her life. She'd agreed to start on a weight loss program and had told me she wanted to really give quitting smoking a good crack. She wanted to retire ASAP to ease the stress and get some much needed rest. Was she agreeing to this to make us feel like everything was okay? Even though she said she was ready to go? I'll never know and I really wish I could stop thinking about it.
That week, week 11 of my daughter's life, while Mum was being intermittently visited by both my sister and I, we packed our car and drove interstate for a close friend's wedding. Mum warned us not to drive but we did, we made it there fine and was in contact with Mum throughout the journey. I sent her photos of her grandchildren, called her to tell her what funny things they were up to. We woke up on the Sunday, April 28th and packed the car for the long journey home.
Mum called twice and I hadn't picked up the phone because I was angry about being lost in Sydney's outer fringe. I called her back in a huff and explained to her what had happened. She had told me she was diagnosed with asthma after getting herself to the doctor and that she was feeling better and that I shouldn't worry, even though she said she knew I would. I questioned the medications she was given and we rattled on about how much I couldn't wait to get home to her. She said she was going to stay with my sister til Wednesday and that she'd see me then. I never saw her again.
At 8pm I texted Mum to say I was still a couple of hundred km's away from Melbourne. Just before 830pm, I got a reply saying "Chin up, not long to go now and back to paradise". I kept driving, it was dark, windy and cold. We were not dressed for Melbourne's gloomy weather.
About 30 mins from home, my phone rang. My husband answered and gave the phone to me. It was my sister.
"Lauren, where are you?"
"Half an hour from home, why what's up?"
"Are you driving?"
"Yeah but I'm on hands free"
"No I think it'd be safer to pull over"
"Nah it's okay I can put you on speaker, what's up?"
"Lauren, I need you to pull over"
So I did. I didn't bat an eyelid at her request.
"Lauren, I don't know how to say this but Mum is dead"
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{longest brain freeze you can imagine but most likely only microseconds}
"Is this a joke? Is this some kind of dumb joke? You're joking me?"
"No Lauren, she collapsed on the couch, I called the paramedics and it looks like it was a heart attack. I needed to let you know and the Coroner will be coming out.".
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. The tears started stinging my eyes. My breath was choking me and the cold air was burning my lungs. Time slowed. I got out of the car on the highway and had to do everything in my power not to walk into oncoming traffic which was hurtling beside us at 110kms/hr. My heart was hurting. My stomach was churning. I just made it to the passenger side and fell to my knees. Mum is dead. This whole two weird weeks was leading to this. Mum is dead. I couldn't stop repeating it. I screamed at the top of my lungs in front of my husband, my 4 year old boy and my newborn daughter. I couldn't breathe.
I made phone calls to a few people, the dreaded phone calls people don't want to hear, just like the one I just received. My Mum, my best friend and soul mate, is dead. WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED.
I told my sister that I couldn't bear to come and see her on the floor in her house. She said she wouldn't have wanted me to. I slept for twenty minutes that night. I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water and thought I saw Mum peering through the glass door. I dropped my bundle.
After some settling from my husband, I called Lifeline. I don't recommend it to anyone in a crisis situation. The first thing they said to me after hearing what had happened was "Oh so you're an orphan". I listened to the rest of their useless bullshit and hung up, none the more comforted.
I went back and laid in bed realizing yes, I was now an orphan. Just like Mum had been.
A week later, it was my 31st birthday. The day after this was Mum's funeral. I feel the need to discuss her service in an entirely different post. {Stay tuned}
A few days later it was Mother's Day, followed immediately by what would have been Mum's 59th birthday. She didn't live past her mother did in terms of years. It was another turning point in my mind- Lauren, you need to make it past 58 years of age and you need to get healthy {stay tuned for yet another post on this side-track}
These are all the basic facts about what has completely altered my life in what was to be one of the most happy years of our family's lives. The birth of our daughter, my son's year at kindergarten. Having two children at home with me whilst I worked on my new small business and got back into health care in some way.
My life, my soul, my spirit, my mind and my heart have forever been changed. The last 7 months have been the hardest of any road I've travelled.
In 2004, I said goodbye for the final time to my beautiful father as he passed away from a duodenal adenocarcinoma. I never EVER thought that not even a decade later, I'd be standing at the head of my precious Mum's coffin, saying the same goodbye.
Losing Mum is the unbearable, indescribable pain that I never wanted to cross paths with and still clearly don't. She still means everything to me. I counted my immediate family as my husband, my children, my Mum, my sister and her family. She was never an outsider. She was my life. I feel as though as part of my heart and soul went with her when she died. I'll never be able to describe in words how much she meant to me. She was a part of every aspect of my life. She walked me into my prep class on my first day of school, she was there when I started high school, was there for my first date, she was there for my first break up, when I met my husband to be, when we bought our first house together, when I graduated, when I lost my father and my grandparents, she was the first to meet both my children. She walked me down the aisle the day I got married. She cried and laughed with me. She held my hand and comforted me when I was panicking. She gave me good and bad advice. She angered me and made me happy. She gave me love and I loved her more than anyone will ever feel in their life.
How could I ever describe how much she meant to me? Only her and I know. It's something she took to her Heaven with her and it's something I'll hold onto as tight as I can until my time comes.
I haven't been able to describe all of what happened and I haven't even begun to describe what has happened in my life since. It's painful. I have never felt pain like this. I never thought a thought, a random thought, could cause such physical pain. My stomach clenches, my chest tightens, my heart races and I want to be sick. All at once. I try and picture her with me and the pain settles a bit. But it never really goes away.
Time, 7 months of it, hasn't eased the pain of losing her. I feel this loss every second of every day. She is constantly on my mind. It isn't always her death and the fact that I never got to physically see her or say goodbye that I think of. I think of things that she's missing. I think of her voice. I think of her freckles and her blonde hair. I think of her glasses and her clothes. I think of her perfume and the way she used to eat and drink. I think of how much I love her and how much more I love her every day.
Until you feel such a loss, heart break can't be described. My heart is broken. At times, when I am by myself, I feel lost. I feel empty and lifeless. I've never been so lost for the right words but able to speak so much about someone or something at the same time.
I thought a few days ago, that if I don't start writing about how I am feeling, I will break down and not be able to recover. Mum wouldn't want that. But more to the point, I have two young children who need me so a break down is not an option. But God, sometimes I just wish it was. Mourning for someone who you just want to hold and speak to again is horrible. It's sickening.
I know it will get better and that 7 months is such a short time and it really is just the beginning for me on this new journey. I just hope I have the strength to keep going and not give up. I need to think of how seeing her with her grandchildren warmed me and pray that that warmth can help me survive.
Mum- Fly Free my precious Angel. I love you forever and a day. If there is a way you can give me a sign to let me know you are safe and that you can see me, just do it and just know that I will never ever go a minute without thinking about you. The best part of you I keep with me, the best part of me stays with you.
L
xxoo
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