Well, after sprinkling Haley's ashes, it really did open a door on my heart that was shut tight, and out came a lot of sadness, grief, and even despair.
I spent one week feeling down, and another almost immobilized by my feelings. I spent three whole days on the couch, just feeling like crap, not talking, not smiling, not doing my usual "I'm a strong person" routine.
I am thinking now that is maybe one reason why I broke my toe, and got sick.. just to slow me down enough to think, and feel.
So it was pretty sad. I cried a lot, fumed, gave up, let go, didn't shower one day, just really didn't feel like being a part of anything. I missed Haley, and I got pretty real with myself about how sad I am about Logan's Diabetes.
I guess I really needed that time.
I got a call, in the thick of it, from a woman named Susie, who also has twins, and one older son who has the D. (He is 28 now, but it kind of shaped her life, and became a diabetic nurse and I think a counselor.) Anyway, she keeps calling me out of the blue, and it is always at the right time. I asked her about the grief process, and she said, "You HAVE to feel it, but don't go too far with it."
She told me (what I have been thinking, as well) that it is a fine line between feeling your feelings, and DWELLING on negatives, etc. She put it this way:
"Two people get in the same car wreck and are confined to wheelchairs. One is miserable, and ends up killing himself. One goes on to do things, discover what he CAN do, talk to schools, etc. You didn't ASK for this "wheelchair" of diabetes, but you have it. What are you going to do with it?" It struck me at the right time, in the right way, for me to start my engines running again.
You wanna hand me a wheelchair, life? Fine!
Wha- cha! (karate move!)
You bet I can handle it! (whoosh-cha! Another karate move!)
And Action Jenny is activated again. I'm in for another round.
After my "mantle of sadness" time- I feel so much better and much more "free".
I think that is one thing I especially struggle with about the D.. it robbed us of some of our precious freedom.
Jer and I are admittedly a bit hippie, a bit hedonistic, pleasure seeking, and mellow. So when the twins were born, we went through a HUGE adjustment.. so much responsibility, so much work, care, worry, nursing, diapers, night feedings, illnesses, etc. It truly tested us. And coming out the other side of 5 years of little kid-dom.. we had regained some of our freedoms, sleeping though the night, taking breaks from the family without feeling guilty (much easier with little kids than with babies), leaving the house at the drop of a hat to go exploring, (not having to pack diaper bags, snacks, wipes, toys etc) and we felt like we had really come to a good place.
So when the D hit, it was kind of like going back in time, to having a newborn. The same panic of a new parent that we had outgrown, is back.
Now instead of worrying that "maybe the babies moved in their crib and one is accidentally suffocating the other I better go check" we worry that our son is having a low in the night.
Here's the scene:
I am sleeping, and I wake up for whatever reason, in the dark.
Usually, I would just smile and snuggle back to sleep.
NOW...
I lay there.
I wonder if something woke me up... did something? A noise?
Hm. No. All is quiet.
Logan pops into my head. Hm. I wonder if he is okay? I mentally review all his last numbers before going to bed, and his last insulin dosages.
Did he eat all those tortillas? Or just most of them? Maybe we gave him too much insulin!
I wonder if I woke up because some supernatural force is alerting me to a crisis happening in my boy's body in the room next to mine!
Adrenaline- dumps into my stomach.
I should check on Logan! What kind of a mother just lays there after receiving the divine gift of being woken up to realize that an uneaten portion of tortilla has created a life threatening crisis??
NOT ME.
I whip back the covers and stumble into the twins room.
In the half light, I see Logan lying still.
Too still.
I also see is not covered up.
I move forward and he wakes.
"Hi Mommy!! What are you doing in here?" he asks with perfect clarity.
(Instant relief floods through me.. he is conscious, he is making sense, he is fine.)
"Oh, I just came to cover you up, and make sure you are cozy." I say, happy that his blanket is indeed around his feet. I don't want to scare him, for god's sake.
"Ok." He says.
I cover him all up, smoothing his hair back from his face. He is SO beautiful.
"Mommy, I love you so much," he says sleepily, "I even love it when you give me my HSP."
Aw geez.
"I love you, SO MUCH Logan, " I whisper, glad for another chance to say it that day.
I go back to bed, satisfied, happy, but nice and awake.
So this happens about once a week, and it reminds me all to much of the newborn "night worry" that most new parents get.
A newborn can't push a blanket away from their face, and a diabetic child in a low in the night can't ask for help.
It brings you back to that sense of the fragility of life, of the human body.
I spent one week feeling down, and another almost immobilized by my feelings. I spent three whole days on the couch, just feeling like crap, not talking, not smiling, not doing my usual "I'm a strong person" routine.
I am thinking now that is maybe one reason why I broke my toe, and got sick.. just to slow me down enough to think, and feel.
So it was pretty sad. I cried a lot, fumed, gave up, let go, didn't shower one day, just really didn't feel like being a part of anything. I missed Haley, and I got pretty real with myself about how sad I am about Logan's Diabetes.
I guess I really needed that time.
I got a call, in the thick of it, from a woman named Susie, who also has twins, and one older son who has the D. (He is 28 now, but it kind of shaped her life, and became a diabetic nurse and I think a counselor.) Anyway, she keeps calling me out of the blue, and it is always at the right time. I asked her about the grief process, and she said, "You HAVE to feel it, but don't go too far with it."
She told me (what I have been thinking, as well) that it is a fine line between feeling your feelings, and DWELLING on negatives, etc. She put it this way:
"Two people get in the same car wreck and are confined to wheelchairs. One is miserable, and ends up killing himself. One goes on to do things, discover what he CAN do, talk to schools, etc. You didn't ASK for this "wheelchair" of diabetes, but you have it. What are you going to do with it?" It struck me at the right time, in the right way, for me to start my engines running again.
You wanna hand me a wheelchair, life? Fine!
Wha- cha! (karate move!)
You bet I can handle it! (whoosh-cha! Another karate move!)
And Action Jenny is activated again. I'm in for another round.
After my "mantle of sadness" time- I feel so much better and much more "free".
I think that is one thing I especially struggle with about the D.. it robbed us of some of our precious freedom.
Jer and I are admittedly a bit hippie, a bit hedonistic, pleasure seeking, and mellow. So when the twins were born, we went through a HUGE adjustment.. so much responsibility, so much work, care, worry, nursing, diapers, night feedings, illnesses, etc. It truly tested us. And coming out the other side of 5 years of little kid-dom.. we had regained some of our freedoms, sleeping though the night, taking breaks from the family without feeling guilty (much easier with little kids than with babies), leaving the house at the drop of a hat to go exploring, (not having to pack diaper bags, snacks, wipes, toys etc) and we felt like we had really come to a good place.
So when the D hit, it was kind of like going back in time, to having a newborn. The same panic of a new parent that we had outgrown, is back.
Now instead of worrying that "maybe the babies moved in their crib and one is accidentally suffocating the other I better go check" we worry that our son is having a low in the night.
Here's the scene:
I am sleeping, and I wake up for whatever reason, in the dark.
Usually, I would just smile and snuggle back to sleep.
NOW...
I lay there.
I wonder if something woke me up... did something? A noise?
Hm. No. All is quiet.
Logan pops into my head. Hm. I wonder if he is okay? I mentally review all his last numbers before going to bed, and his last insulin dosages.
Did he eat all those tortillas? Or just most of them? Maybe we gave him too much insulin!
I wonder if I woke up because some supernatural force is alerting me to a crisis happening in my boy's body in the room next to mine!
Adrenaline- dumps into my stomach.
I should check on Logan! What kind of a mother just lays there after receiving the divine gift of being woken up to realize that an uneaten portion of tortilla has created a life threatening crisis??
NOT ME.
I whip back the covers and stumble into the twins room.
In the half light, I see Logan lying still.
Too still.
I also see is not covered up.
I move forward and he wakes.
"Hi Mommy!! What are you doing in here?" he asks with perfect clarity.
(Instant relief floods through me.. he is conscious, he is making sense, he is fine.)
"Oh, I just came to cover you up, and make sure you are cozy." I say, happy that his blanket is indeed around his feet. I don't want to scare him, for god's sake.
"Ok." He says.
I cover him all up, smoothing his hair back from his face. He is SO beautiful.
"Mommy, I love you so much," he says sleepily, "I even love it when you give me my HSP."
Aw geez.
"I love you, SO MUCH Logan, " I whisper, glad for another chance to say it that day.
I go back to bed, satisfied, happy, but nice and awake.
So this happens about once a week, and it reminds me all to much of the newborn "night worry" that most new parents get.
A newborn can't push a blanket away from their face, and a diabetic child in a low in the night can't ask for help.
It brings you back to that sense of the fragility of life, of the human body.
So even though things will never be the same, and we will in a sense always have a "newborn" to care for, there are a lot of positives, too. I am grappling with a lifetime of this, and trying to find positives, when it's easy to see all the negatives.
I realize some of it is a choice of perspective, and some of it will just be what it is.
I had the *most excellent* 40th birthday yesterday, I felt so loved, so happy, positive, and blessed. We went to the Japanese Gardens with L and G, and the sun was amazing. I had several moments to just relax on a bench, soaking up the sun, and you couldn't wipe the smile from my face. Jer and Sherri are planning a party in November, but this was "my day" with Jer and the boys.. Max had to work, but gave me cuddles before he went.
At the gardens, Gray saw an edgy looking photographer taking pictures of the pond, and he was captivated by the guy's mohawk.
"Is he a ROCK STAR?" "How did he get his hair like that?" "I think he IS a rock star, Mommy!" this chatter went on for a while, and I tried to shush him a little, so as not to disturb the guy, or let on that our kids hadn't really been around many spiky mohawks.
Gray pleaded with me to go with him, so he could ask the man about his hair.
Well, shoot, I thought. Why not?
"Excuse me," I smiled, "but my son is curious about whether or not you are a rock star.. are you?" I asked.
Super- cute- punkish- but- well- put- together- guy pulls his ear buds out of his ears..so I have to repeat my great question.
"No, I'm not," he grins, "but I do like spiky hair."
So Gray asked a lot of questions about how to get his hair like that, (hair glue) and we all had a chat, and a smile, and went on.
I don't know why, but it made me really proud of Gray.
Gray is not afraid of people who look different, or seem different. Plus, he seems to be drawn to cool and edgy people, which I like.
If he asks for a mohawk, I will have a hard time saying "no."
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2 comments:
Difficult to write something quote-inspiring-unquote, harder still to do it and avoid the cheese. But you have done that and more. Always compelling, and so clearly JEN writing (karate chop wha-cha!).
It's great to hear you are kicking butt kung-fu style! My thoughts are with you and your family! I made up my mind about a year ago that I wasn't going to let diabetes show me what I can't do, rather I was going to show diabetes and the world what I can do! If I can change the thoughts of one person about what a diabetic can do and be than I will be happy! :) I'm pretty good at drawing upon tough situations for strength and drive. Having diabetes and a little brother with a rare and aggressive form of cancer is pretty much all I need. But people like you and your son help to give me some positive drive too! Thank you and Logan for helping the flame inside grow a little brighter! :) Sorry for the long comment as well!
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