Before my son was born, I worried about how I would find the time to continue with Teddy Bear Tins with a little one in the house. This is just not something that I'm willing to give up, it's too important. But I knew that it'd be hard to find the time to take care of the coordinating and contacting volunteers, the shipping and organizing and tracking. And then Jack came, and shortly thereafter our house that had just been prepared for sale was destroyed when that pipe burst.
So yea, the last six months have been pretty overwhelming for me. Not nearly as emotionally overwhelming as when Aiden died, but definitely physically overwhelming. It has been hard to find any extra time. Last week I actually took an hour leave from work in order to shower. Seriously! I'm exhausted.
At the same time, it seems as if many of the people I love are also pretty overwhelmed right now. My sister-in-law has had an orthopedic surgery that puts her on crutches for the next 10 weeks. And rather unexpectedly, a very close friend recently welcomed her second son into the world - and promptly found herself in the middle of his fight for life as his lungs inexplicably did not function correctly. She was told he had a 20% chance of surviving before he was given emergency surgery to put him on a special life support machine. During the first two weeks of his life she never even got to hold him. Now she and her husband have moved into temporary housing more than an hour from home in order to be near to him.
Why do I mention all this?
Because in the midst of it, during a time when I have been very much consumed with other things, there has been a quiet process at work in the background...
My sister-in-law sent me a message this week to let me know that because she finds herself temporarily incapacitated she has been painting Teddy Bear Tins, already a dozen of them. I haven't had the chance to contact any volunteers myself, and here was one finding me instead! Then, I get the awesome message that my friend's little son has turned a corner for the better, and is doing so well that he will soon be transferred to a NICU closer to home. Since I will no doubt be visiting them there in the next few weeks I thought I'd send an email to the hospital... And within an hour I got the response that they have used Teddy Bear Tins and actually had been wanting to find me because they want more!
I really strongly feel that this effort is just something that I have been blessed to be a part of, but that it really is not about anything I can do on my own. Even in those weeks before my son came when I was stressing about finding the time, I knew that all I could do was let it be and be open to what I'd need to do, and it would somehow work out. I was worried, but I knew that Teddy Bear Tins was about so much more than what I could do myself. And it is.
I am just so happy to be a part of it. :)
April 17, 2011
February 16, 2011
Oh it's you grief
Two weeks ago when I was stopping by at our old house on my way home from work, I discovered that a pipe had burst during an extended power outage in the recent snow storm.
Some quick background - we bought our first home shortly after we got married in 2006. It was a cute 1950s farmhouse that needed some work, and we have been remodeling it ourselves since that time. About a year ago we unexpectedly found ourselves in the position of buying a new house (an abandoned foreclosure that was such a good deal we couldn't pass it up). So we've been working even harder since then to finish the remodel, and had 7 days prior finished touching up the little dots where we had filled wood filler over the nails after we installed the last of the trim. We were D.O.N.E! Four years of effort had resulted in a beautiful home that held lots of memories. The final inspection was literally set for the next Friday. And what perfect timing, as we were ready to move on to a life with just one home to worry about, and more time to focus on our little guy.
So the feeling in my gut when I forced my way into the kitchen - couldn't open the door because the ceiling was now in the way - was upsetting, to say the least. Today the drying process has finally been completed, and we're left with a shell of a structure. Big fat START OVER.
But the intent of this post is not to talk about this particular event. I bring it up instead because it puts some context to something I've been experiencing but couldn't quite find a way to describe.
After that night walking into the house and discovering it destroyed, I now find that I pretty commonly get a bit nervous even when I'm walking into rooms in my new house. Or opening the garage door when I get home at night. We recently finished and painted the nursery (3 months late...), and I keep feeling like it's about to be ruined somehow. I think, based on what has happened, that people can probably relate to this or at least understand where I'm coming from.
So it's with that in mind that I'd like to try to explain that I think it's sort of similar to what I often feel with Jack.
Whenever someone talks about the future with Jack, I get uncomfortable. I feel nervous, like we shouldn't be talking about it. My husband says he can't wait until Jack is toddling around the house and causing mayhem, and how fun it will be to go on vacations to his family's farm. And when he says that I just want to change the subject because I'm irrationally afraid about thinking about the future. As if it's going to somehow be ruined, and therefore it's a lie for me to think like it will work out OK.
I know that every parent worries about their child. But I can't help but think that some of this is because I have experienced very closely what it would be like to lose a child. In a very profound way, I know what a gift I hold in my arms every day.
So, to summarize, I have been getting nervous, and feeling afraid, about everything from my house to my son. And I couldn't think of how to explain all this in a way that didn't make me sound like a loonie.
Until I read a post written by a beautiful mama whom I found through the babylost network, in which she discusses lessons learned from C.S. Lewis' book A Grief Observed. In it, he writes about a restless nervousness that makes grief feel like fear.
And that's it! That is exactly what I feel! Only I hadn't put two and two together for myself that the root of this was my grief. I am grieving the loss of my house, and of course I am still grieving the loss of my nephew. Grief is what I have been feeling recently.
Funny that sometimes when we are in the thick of things, we don't even realize we are...
Some quick background - we bought our first home shortly after we got married in 2006. It was a cute 1950s farmhouse that needed some work, and we have been remodeling it ourselves since that time. About a year ago we unexpectedly found ourselves in the position of buying a new house (an abandoned foreclosure that was such a good deal we couldn't pass it up). So we've been working even harder since then to finish the remodel, and had 7 days prior finished touching up the little dots where we had filled wood filler over the nails after we installed the last of the trim. We were D.O.N.E! Four years of effort had resulted in a beautiful home that held lots of memories. The final inspection was literally set for the next Friday. And what perfect timing, as we were ready to move on to a life with just one home to worry about, and more time to focus on our little guy.
So the feeling in my gut when I forced my way into the kitchen - couldn't open the door because the ceiling was now in the way - was upsetting, to say the least. Today the drying process has finally been completed, and we're left with a shell of a structure. Big fat START OVER.
But the intent of this post is not to talk about this particular event. I bring it up instead because it puts some context to something I've been experiencing but couldn't quite find a way to describe.
After that night walking into the house and discovering it destroyed, I now find that I pretty commonly get a bit nervous even when I'm walking into rooms in my new house. Or opening the garage door when I get home at night. We recently finished and painted the nursery (3 months late...), and I keep feeling like it's about to be ruined somehow. I think, based on what has happened, that people can probably relate to this or at least understand where I'm coming from.
So it's with that in mind that I'd like to try to explain that I think it's sort of similar to what I often feel with Jack.
Whenever someone talks about the future with Jack, I get uncomfortable. I feel nervous, like we shouldn't be talking about it. My husband says he can't wait until Jack is toddling around the house and causing mayhem, and how fun it will be to go on vacations to his family's farm. And when he says that I just want to change the subject because I'm irrationally afraid about thinking about the future. As if it's going to somehow be ruined, and therefore it's a lie for me to think like it will work out OK.
I know that every parent worries about their child. But I can't help but think that some of this is because I have experienced very closely what it would be like to lose a child. In a very profound way, I know what a gift I hold in my arms every day.
So, to summarize, I have been getting nervous, and feeling afraid, about everything from my house to my son. And I couldn't think of how to explain all this in a way that didn't make me sound like a loonie.
Until I read a post written by a beautiful mama whom I found through the babylost network, in which she discusses lessons learned from C.S. Lewis' book A Grief Observed. In it, he writes about a restless nervousness that makes grief feel like fear.
And that's it! That is exactly what I feel! Only I hadn't put two and two together for myself that the root of this was my grief. I am grieving the loss of my house, and of course I am still grieving the loss of my nephew. Grief is what I have been feeling recently.
Funny that sometimes when we are in the thick of things, we don't even realize we are...
January 18, 2011
2 Years
...And we still miss you so much it hurts, but we love you even more Aiden. Happy Birthday little guy!
Hugs, kisses, and so much love,
Auntie Meg, Uncle Jim, and new cousin Jack
Hugs, kisses, and so much love,
Auntie Meg, Uncle Jim, and new cousin Jack
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