I had a great, busy day at work. The rain on the roof really helped me get into a routine and I was on a roll and didn't stop til home time. Worked on my breaks, kept quiet and head down-bum up happened.
On my way out the door, I felt a bit of a buzz. I missed my kids! I normally just focus on work, otherwise I'd probably fall apart in misery from thinking about what my kids were up to without me.
I basically ran through puddles, nearly got hit by two cars to get to my stop and get on the first tram back to my car.
The whole tram ride home was spent looking through photos I'd taken of my kids on my phone.
It felt like I floated to my car and sped at 300kms an hour back to where they were waiting for my husband and I to come and get them.
So in love. My son's laugh and my daughter's smile make my day. My son's hugs and my daughter's giggles make my life.
Could I ever be more in love with them if I tried? Yes. Every day!
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
20 Truths about Me
1. I have {and certainly don't suffer from} anxiety and panic disorder which I proudly now manage without medication. The worst panic attack I had was over my son growing older {he was only 4 weeks at the time}, it was, looking back, totally irrational because it's something I can't control. I used to need to feel in control.
2. Sometimes I like sleeping more than being awake.
3. Music is the next important thing in line to me after my family, my friends and our health.
4. I am emetophobic {petrified of vomiting} and it was professionally diagnosed
5. I can play 8 instruments
6. When my sister and I were small, we joked about who would we live with if our parents divorced. I chose my mum {because my dad couldn't braid my hair for school}
7. I wanted two children from the time I was five. I wanted two boys and they were going to have the names Riley and Harrison. And now that I have a boy AND a girl, I'm perfectly content that I got one of each
8. My biggest fear {other than my emetophobia} was losing my parents. Now I fear nothing.
9. I joke about everything. Even sad things. Actually, especially sad, awkward things.
10. I talk a lot. Everyone I know would say I talk too much.
11. I could never be a vegetarian even though I rarely eat meat.
12. I am extremely messy. I leave piles of my things everywhere. Yet I have super neat writing and am perfectly organized at work.
13. I don't know at this point if I will ever go back to nursing, even though it's what I wanted my entire life
14. I sometimes put about 6 tablespoons of milo in a mug of milk- it's my treat
15. I hate smoking. And people who don't respect my right to hate smoking
16. I want to see more of Australia before I travel overseas again. In fact, I don't have a great desire to go outside of Australia, I love it too much
17. It has taken me my whole life to be confident in who I am- I was teased a lot in my first years of high school which didn't bother me until I realized years later how cruel those people were and how much it affected me and how I expressed my feelings in public
18. I have to wash my hair every day, even if it doesn't need it
19. I really want to start cycling
20. I don't feel my beliefs fit with one certain faith, I'm secretly hoping that there is a religion out there for me that encompasses everything I believe in. I need proof to believe my parents and other lost loved ones are either still with me or in some kind of Heaven
2. Sometimes I like sleeping more than being awake.
3. Music is the next important thing in line to me after my family, my friends and our health.
4. I am emetophobic {petrified of vomiting} and it was professionally diagnosed
5. I can play 8 instruments
6. When my sister and I were small, we joked about who would we live with if our parents divorced. I chose my mum {because my dad couldn't braid my hair for school}
7. I wanted two children from the time I was five. I wanted two boys and they were going to have the names Riley and Harrison. And now that I have a boy AND a girl, I'm perfectly content that I got one of each
8. My biggest fear {other than my emetophobia} was losing my parents. Now I fear nothing.
9. I joke about everything. Even sad things. Actually, especially sad, awkward things.
10. I talk a lot. Everyone I know would say I talk too much.
11. I could never be a vegetarian even though I rarely eat meat.
12. I am extremely messy. I leave piles of my things everywhere. Yet I have super neat writing and am perfectly organized at work.
13. I don't know at this point if I will ever go back to nursing, even though it's what I wanted my entire life
14. I sometimes put about 6 tablespoons of milo in a mug of milk- it's my treat
15. I hate smoking. And people who don't respect my right to hate smoking
16. I want to see more of Australia before I travel overseas again. In fact, I don't have a great desire to go outside of Australia, I love it too much
17. It has taken me my whole life to be confident in who I am- I was teased a lot in my first years of high school which didn't bother me until I realized years later how cruel those people were and how much it affected me and how I expressed my feelings in public
18. I have to wash my hair every day, even if it doesn't need it
19. I really want to start cycling
20. I don't feel my beliefs fit with one certain faith, I'm secretly hoping that there is a religion out there for me that encompasses everything I believe in. I need proof to believe my parents and other lost loved ones are either still with me or in some kind of Heaven
Monday, November 11, 2013
Day #3 November 12, 2013- Coping versus Surviving: there's no difference to me
Coping and surviving are the same thing to me. I'm always at one end of the spectrum. Living it up, laughing, having the time of my life or MEH, just hanging in there. I'm determined to find a healthy balance where my way of life is to just have the time of my life, like 95% of the time. Otherwise what is the point?
Daily life and the bigger, larger, more difficult or humbling events in life can be a struggle for even the toughest person. Sometimes people wish they had more. More time, more money, more friends, more children, more work, more leisure, more holidays. More sleep. More justice. More answers. Sometimes some people want less. Less hassle, {everyone} always wants less drama, less bills to pay. We all want less heart ache. Less death and destruction. Less crime on the street. Less crime behind closed doors. Less chatter. Less work. Less fighting.
Finding ways to cope and exploring options seems to be what my life is all about these days. I need to find ways to fall asleep, to exercise more, to have less travel time to and from work. I need to cope with raging emotions and floods of tears at the most inconvenient of times.
I need to cope with people who at times know less about common decency and common sense than anyone I've encountered. I need to cope with ratty tired children, when I'm the one who should be laying down for an afternoon nap.
I have learnt over the years to cope with ill health, with which I seem to experience a lot of. My immune system was weakened as a child on an abundance of powerful medications and now I pay the price. A bad night's sleep could mean three days of aching pain, fevers, migraines and general misery.
I think about ways to cope with loss and difficult or awkward moments in my life and how I will move forward. I break everything down into very tiny parts and work on each part until I get my head around it.
When I was fearful about having a C-Section with my second child, I put it down to the fear of not knowing and the fear of not being in control. So I researched and planned and I controlled the small parts that I was able to and let the rest be. I survived and it was a perfect birth experience. I couldn't have asked for better, in fact.
I prepared for the loss of my father in a very graphic way. I pictured how he might pass away, the surroundings, his face and his body, the emotions I'd feel, the hurt I'd feel and the pain in which I'd watch my mother lose the love of her life. It was so graphic it kept me up at night. You may think it's unusual to be thinking about all this but I've always thought ahead and thought of the worst and most of the time, it's kept me sane.
So when Dad finally did pass away, it was a horrifying time but not as horrifying as what it would've been had I not have prepared myself. It worked and I'm so glad that I dealt with what was happening as it was happening, rather than hide away from the reality.
When I have to cope with awkward situations, I get very tense. I replay a lot of what I think will happen in my head, a variety of scenarios. It might seem unnecessary to many people who are reading this but if it works, I say stick with it.
I talk a lot when I'm anxious, in the hope that I make a funny joke to lighten the load or break the ice. Humour is a coping mechanism I rely on. I make jokes when I hurt myself. I make jokes when I'm trying not to cry. My sister and I made jokes through the planning of our mother's funeral service, I guess because that's the only way we knew how to get by at the time.
Coping mechanisms can be gut reactions to what you are seeing, feeling and thinking. These mechanisms defend your body and mind against the onslaught of physical and mental anguish. I'm glad I've never been one to really bottle up feelings, I like talking and talking helps me. That is one way in which I try to cope.
Surviving to me means just getting by each day. Not really enjoying what's going on, just clinging by the skin of your teeth to your life. Or life is taking you for a ride rather than you controlling where you go in life. Coping is a temporary form of surviving.
We need to cope to get past hurt, pain and torment. We need to cope to help others cope, to lead by example. We need to cope to feel better. We need to cope mostly because we don't get a choice or rather, don't like the alternative.
The alternative to not coping is being acopic. Increased stress, increased tension, and mental strain are not things I want more of in my life. No gains can be made if you can't focus on what you need to do and who you need to be. If I can just cope through some minor rough moments, I'm usually okay. I like the sense of achievement I get when I get through a bad day. It's a small win.
If you link up all the small wins, you can be proud of something really quite huge in your life. If you don't give up, you will get there and you will be happy.
It's not all about believing, even though self-belief is a major part of coping with difficult times and people. It's about stamina, attainable goals and being proud of who you are and what you've achieved at the end of the day.
Small steps. One step at a time. I focus on one star in the sky rather than the universe as a whole. Each small step will get you to a better place. Some days, it's okay to just feel off. It's okay to have bad days. What is not okay is to let the bad days keep rolling for so long that you can no longer see the light. And to relish in bad days is not okay. We don't need to play victim to our emotions, we can take control, even if for a short while.
Be kind to yourself and be patient. Trust your instincts and listen to your inner voice. Remember every valuable piece of information you've been given and use it. It might not have meant much to you back then but it could be your saving grace. In the end, you can only love yourself and pray that others love you for who you are and for who you want to be.
Take a deep breath. Go for a walk in the fresh air. Call a friend. Draw a picture. Colour in. Write a letter. Play a game. Exercise. Have a slice of cake. Ask for help. Don't ever be afraid to deal with situations a piece at a time. There is no harm in asking for help. There is no gain from feeling overwhelmed.
Remember that bad moments pass and that you're never given any challenge that you can't face. Don't let your feelings build up to a point where you just might explode. Just take a second and regroup. Talk, write, have a cry or take a nap. Let a few quiet moments pass and things will look brighter.Think about what makes you happy and don't avoid the pain or the awkward situations. Everything works together to make you a stronger version of yourself.
You don't have to listen when people say "there is always someone worse off than yourself". When you are hurting or grieving for something or someone you have lost, you are thinking of yourself and rightfully so. Pain is subjective and you can't really feel it for someone else. You can only support other people in their difficult times and request the same support in return.
Take every small win and move forward. There's much to be gained from looking at what you can do and have done rather than what you can't.
L
xo
Daily life and the bigger, larger, more difficult or humbling events in life can be a struggle for even the toughest person. Sometimes people wish they had more. More time, more money, more friends, more children, more work, more leisure, more holidays. More sleep. More justice. More answers. Sometimes some people want less. Less hassle, {everyone} always wants less drama, less bills to pay. We all want less heart ache. Less death and destruction. Less crime on the street. Less crime behind closed doors. Less chatter. Less work. Less fighting.
Finding ways to cope and exploring options seems to be what my life is all about these days. I need to find ways to fall asleep, to exercise more, to have less travel time to and from work. I need to cope with raging emotions and floods of tears at the most inconvenient of times.
I need to cope with people who at times know less about common decency and common sense than anyone I've encountered. I need to cope with ratty tired children, when I'm the one who should be laying down for an afternoon nap.
I have learnt over the years to cope with ill health, with which I seem to experience a lot of. My immune system was weakened as a child on an abundance of powerful medications and now I pay the price. A bad night's sleep could mean three days of aching pain, fevers, migraines and general misery.
I think about ways to cope with loss and difficult or awkward moments in my life and how I will move forward. I break everything down into very tiny parts and work on each part until I get my head around it.
When I was fearful about having a C-Section with my second child, I put it down to the fear of not knowing and the fear of not being in control. So I researched and planned and I controlled the small parts that I was able to and let the rest be. I survived and it was a perfect birth experience. I couldn't have asked for better, in fact.
I prepared for the loss of my father in a very graphic way. I pictured how he might pass away, the surroundings, his face and his body, the emotions I'd feel, the hurt I'd feel and the pain in which I'd watch my mother lose the love of her life. It was so graphic it kept me up at night. You may think it's unusual to be thinking about all this but I've always thought ahead and thought of the worst and most of the time, it's kept me sane.
So when Dad finally did pass away, it was a horrifying time but not as horrifying as what it would've been had I not have prepared myself. It worked and I'm so glad that I dealt with what was happening as it was happening, rather than hide away from the reality.
When I have to cope with awkward situations, I get very tense. I replay a lot of what I think will happen in my head, a variety of scenarios. It might seem unnecessary to many people who are reading this but if it works, I say stick with it.
I talk a lot when I'm anxious, in the hope that I make a funny joke to lighten the load or break the ice. Humour is a coping mechanism I rely on. I make jokes when I hurt myself. I make jokes when I'm trying not to cry. My sister and I made jokes through the planning of our mother's funeral service, I guess because that's the only way we knew how to get by at the time.
Coping mechanisms can be gut reactions to what you are seeing, feeling and thinking. These mechanisms defend your body and mind against the onslaught of physical and mental anguish. I'm glad I've never been one to really bottle up feelings, I like talking and talking helps me. That is one way in which I try to cope.
Surviving to me means just getting by each day. Not really enjoying what's going on, just clinging by the skin of your teeth to your life. Or life is taking you for a ride rather than you controlling where you go in life. Coping is a temporary form of surviving.
We need to cope to get past hurt, pain and torment. We need to cope to help others cope, to lead by example. We need to cope to feel better. We need to cope mostly because we don't get a choice or rather, don't like the alternative.
The alternative to not coping is being acopic. Increased stress, increased tension, and mental strain are not things I want more of in my life. No gains can be made if you can't focus on what you need to do and who you need to be. If I can just cope through some minor rough moments, I'm usually okay. I like the sense of achievement I get when I get through a bad day. It's a small win.
If you link up all the small wins, you can be proud of something really quite huge in your life. If you don't give up, you will get there and you will be happy.
It's not all about believing, even though self-belief is a major part of coping with difficult times and people. It's about stamina, attainable goals and being proud of who you are and what you've achieved at the end of the day.
Small steps. One step at a time. I focus on one star in the sky rather than the universe as a whole. Each small step will get you to a better place. Some days, it's okay to just feel off. It's okay to have bad days. What is not okay is to let the bad days keep rolling for so long that you can no longer see the light. And to relish in bad days is not okay. We don't need to play victim to our emotions, we can take control, even if for a short while.
Be kind to yourself and be patient. Trust your instincts and listen to your inner voice. Remember every valuable piece of information you've been given and use it. It might not have meant much to you back then but it could be your saving grace. In the end, you can only love yourself and pray that others love you for who you are and for who you want to be.
Take a deep breath. Go for a walk in the fresh air. Call a friend. Draw a picture. Colour in. Write a letter. Play a game. Exercise. Have a slice of cake. Ask for help. Don't ever be afraid to deal with situations a piece at a time. There is no harm in asking for help. There is no gain from feeling overwhelmed.
Remember that bad moments pass and that you're never given any challenge that you can't face. Don't let your feelings build up to a point where you just might explode. Just take a second and regroup. Talk, write, have a cry or take a nap. Let a few quiet moments pass and things will look brighter.Think about what makes you happy and don't avoid the pain or the awkward situations. Everything works together to make you a stronger version of yourself.
You don't have to listen when people say "there is always someone worse off than yourself". When you are hurting or grieving for something or someone you have lost, you are thinking of yourself and rightfully so. Pain is subjective and you can't really feel it for someone else. You can only support other people in their difficult times and request the same support in return.
Take every small win and move forward. There's much to be gained from looking at what you can do and have done rather than what you can't.
L
xo
Photo A Day- "Clouds" {I Wish Mine Looked Like This Today}
It's a grey dreary day in Melbourne this morning and my view from my room isn't the greatest. I wish it would either rain or become Spring like it should have been for the last almost three months!
Summer hits us in 3 weeks and the warm buzz is still nowhere to be found......
L
xo
Alone In A Crowded Room- Day #2 November 11, 2013 *LEST WE FORGET*
Usually, I talk. Well, most waking moments of my life, I am talking. It's sometimes mindless chatter but mostly it's meaningful to me. I talk when I'm nervous, I talk when I'm with someone, I talk to myself and I talk in myself. I really don't stop. Unless I have a damn good reason.
After thinking about the beginning of this journey in my life last night (LINK), quite late I might add, sleeping through my alarm and still making it to work on time, I sat in my office alone and in silence. And I LOVED IT. With two small children, one a chatterbox at 5 years old like me and the other 9 months old and trying so hard to become the chatterbox her mother is, I rarely have a moment of silence. It was golden.
It was so golden that my mood actually soured when someone came in for the morning and simply asked how I was. And kept asking me questions about my days off. And they didn't stop for at least ten minutes. I really just needed silence for the first time in months.
Half way through my day, after spending the morning busily catching up on 5 days worth of back log, I was asked what was wrong.
I paused. So something must be wrong with me because I'm not talking endlessly? I can't just sit in silence? I felt like I had to talk and talk and talk just to prove nothing was wrong. Even though I had nothing to prove and certainly didn't have to prove anything to the people I was with.
But I didn't talk. I just said "I'm all good, just fine". And I really was. I just wanted my mind to slow and to focus on just getting through the day. With less than 3 hours sleep under my belt, I needed shoosh and a full day of it.
And there it was, my first moment where I didn't conform to a vision people really have of me- a chattery, outgoing person. I wasn't chatting and I was sitting peacefully in the quiet buzz of the radio beside me. The retreat I really needed came to me in the middle of a crowded room.
After a few hours of just working, I paused again. I was no longer enjoying the silence. The buzz of the radio and the falsities of "how was your weekend" when no one really cares couldn't hide one very serious fact- I was quiet because I finally saw through the false, mindless chatter and realized I was totally alone. And I'm the only one in the room who really cares about me.
These people don't know me. They don't know me outside of work, which isn't really much different from the work me. They don't know my family. They don't know at all what I've been through of late and the reason why today of all days, I chose to be quiet and still. All I knew was I really felt alone for the first time in my life. Like there was no one I could call if I wanted to talk, just to hear a friendly familiar voice that would give me comfort and take the edge off.
Feeling alone when you are surrounded by people is quite uncomfortable, I've decided. It isn't right and doesn't sit well with me. I'm used to talk, noise, laughter, busyness. Silence has its purpose when you need a bit of peace in a busy day but it makes me realize that it really is just me in this world now, to fight battles for myself and for my husband and children. I make my own decisions. I chose my own pathways. I say no when I feel the need, I say yes when I want to. I could do this before, when my parents were in my physical life, but now, I can't do what I always did {and probably shouldn't have}- consult Mum.
I relied on her too much. I needed her approval. I wanted to please her and make her proud of me. I did a lot in my life just to try to make her proud of me. I can stand on my own though and my decisions are my own. She left me in such a way that I know I will be okay. In the end, I don't have a choice.I've gone from nervous with no self-belief to reassured and growing confident in myself and my abilities by the day.
I look down at my feet and realize that she gave me the very foundation I stand on. Watching how my parents lived their {far too short} lives has helped shaped mine and has shaped how I want to move forward. And even though I might spend most of my day every day by myself, I am not alone. My family are always with me. My friends are always with me.
I'll move forward as I'm ready to and that's something my parents really would be proud of. I've been able to find peace in a busy day and not fall apart. It's a win. A major win.
L
xo
After thinking about the beginning of this journey in my life last night (LINK), quite late I might add, sleeping through my alarm and still making it to work on time, I sat in my office alone and in silence. And I LOVED IT. With two small children, one a chatterbox at 5 years old like me and the other 9 months old and trying so hard to become the chatterbox her mother is, I rarely have a moment of silence. It was golden.
It was so golden that my mood actually soured when someone came in for the morning and simply asked how I was. And kept asking me questions about my days off. And they didn't stop for at least ten minutes. I really just needed silence for the first time in months.
Half way through my day, after spending the morning busily catching up on 5 days worth of back log, I was asked what was wrong.
I paused. So something must be wrong with me because I'm not talking endlessly? I can't just sit in silence? I felt like I had to talk and talk and talk just to prove nothing was wrong. Even though I had nothing to prove and certainly didn't have to prove anything to the people I was with.
But I didn't talk. I just said "I'm all good, just fine". And I really was. I just wanted my mind to slow and to focus on just getting through the day. With less than 3 hours sleep under my belt, I needed shoosh and a full day of it.
And there it was, my first moment where I didn't conform to a vision people really have of me- a chattery, outgoing person. I wasn't chatting and I was sitting peacefully in the quiet buzz of the radio beside me. The retreat I really needed came to me in the middle of a crowded room.
After a few hours of just working, I paused again. I was no longer enjoying the silence. The buzz of the radio and the falsities of "how was your weekend" when no one really cares couldn't hide one very serious fact- I was quiet because I finally saw through the false, mindless chatter and realized I was totally alone. And I'm the only one in the room who really cares about me.
These people don't know me. They don't know me outside of work, which isn't really much different from the work me. They don't know my family. They don't know at all what I've been through of late and the reason why today of all days, I chose to be quiet and still. All I knew was I really felt alone for the first time in my life. Like there was no one I could call if I wanted to talk, just to hear a friendly familiar voice that would give me comfort and take the edge off.
Feeling alone when you are surrounded by people is quite uncomfortable, I've decided. It isn't right and doesn't sit well with me. I'm used to talk, noise, laughter, busyness. Silence has its purpose when you need a bit of peace in a busy day but it makes me realize that it really is just me in this world now, to fight battles for myself and for my husband and children. I make my own decisions. I chose my own pathways. I say no when I feel the need, I say yes when I want to. I could do this before, when my parents were in my physical life, but now, I can't do what I always did {and probably shouldn't have}- consult Mum.
I relied on her too much. I needed her approval. I wanted to please her and make her proud of me. I did a lot in my life just to try to make her proud of me. I can stand on my own though and my decisions are my own. She left me in such a way that I know I will be okay. In the end, I don't have a choice.I've gone from nervous with no self-belief to reassured and growing confident in myself and my abilities by the day.
I look down at my feet and realize that she gave me the very foundation I stand on. Watching how my parents lived their {far too short} lives has helped shaped mine and has shaped how I want to move forward. And even though I might spend most of my day every day by myself, I am not alone. My family are always with me. My friends are always with me.
I'll move forward as I'm ready to and that's something my parents really would be proud of. I've been able to find peace in a busy day and not fall apart. It's a win. A major win.
L
xo
Sunday, November 10, 2013
The Beginning's The Best Place To Start. Day #1 November 10, 2013
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"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
{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
Saturday, November 9, 2013
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