Lately I have been craving to be at the ocean. I asked the boys if we could go this weekend, no school Friday. Henry acted like I asked him to eat the dog shit he reluctantly picks up. “Mom can’t we just stay home for once, we were just in San Francisco”. Sigh, I could show him the photos showing him having fun on that trip but you just don’t argue with a 15 year old boy, you never have a winner. I have clearly failed to teach him to be spontaneous or to love the water like Hayley. Hayley and I were connected by water. We were lucky to go on several boat trips with my Mom and Stepdad. Cape Cod, Washington DC, sailing the Potomac. She chose WWU and watched the sunset over the bay every night. She went to the lake and the falls. She promised herself she would get outside and enjoy all of the water around her during her Sophomore year. 
We began taking her to Cannon Beach at 6 months old. The weather was not great, but we strapped her into that baby bjorn and off we went. She was not a great sleeper but at or near the ocean she could barely stay awake. We went at least once per year every year for 18 years. Sometimes she brought a friend; sometimes it was just the two of us. We went as a family even when Scott and I were officially separated. It was something that made life, no matter how chaotic or horrible feel normal. Of course, I didn’t know what horrible could actually feel like.
I was one of those moms that always imagined the worse things happening. I would constantly have to talk myself down. Scott was good at that. One of the hardest week’s of my life was when she went to Cabo with her friend and her family. She loved that trip. I barely slept more than a few hours here and there. She was too far away. We missed each other more than I figured was normal. When she had surgery for her ovarian issues I practically hyperventilated waiting for her to come back to her room. But it was always okay. But my imagination has tormented me for the past 20 years. Nothing I ever imagined was as bad as what I witnessed last July.
Spring is coming. This is going to be a tough time for me. I didn’t see that coming. I forgot that I love March, April and May. March because it is almost Spring and everything I love most happened in the Spring. As March crawls along, I see flowers begin to push their way up. The flowering plum trees we planted for each of the kids when they were a year old, are starting to show growth. Those little leave buds this year share space on the branches with beautiful moss. Hayley’s tree was moved from our last house when she was 3. It thrived with that move like she did. The tree needs maintenance but I am afraid to let just anyone touch that tree. What if they mess it up? Her car is parked under that tree. Last fall it caught the leaves. So as the buds start now, I know it will bloom in April. March was the month that I was in my last trimester for both pregnancies. As we get closer to April I always feel that pull and yearning. I remember feeling scared and excited. The blooming plants remind me how twice I was in full bloom at the same time. Both kids arrived early. Hayley made it in April, the 29th, making that month “her birthday month”. She would say that the entire month was her birthday and that as soon as it was May 8th, Henry could start his month. Of course Mother’s day always got lost in the joy of two birthdays a week apart. I always went big on birthdays. Parties, gifts, the best birthday cakes! We did Disney as a surprise once. It was wonderful and chaotic having their birthdays a week apart, but I would not have changed it. 
So here it is, fucking March. My mood is changing. The weather can’t make up it’s mind either. I feel that sense of excitement and then it is quickly replaced by a deep sadness followed by guilt for the child that will still have his birthday. The one that won’t have the sister he loved to tease him that her birthday came first since she was number one and that it lasted right up until his. Maybe he is feeling the same way. If he is I don’t think he will be able to articulate it for years to come. Hayley helped out at all his parties. It didn’t matter that once it was a dozen 13 year old boys, going to play paintball. She was there and very pissed off Henry wouldn’t let her play. I remember a feeling of sadness at the loss of my sweet boy. I watched him joyfully shooting paint on his friends while Hayley and I watched and ate licorice. I knew he would never again refer to himself as “momma’s sweetie”. I remember the one kid who was way more mature than the others wanting to ride home with Hayley. I groaned on the inside. Poor Henry, always Hayley McCutcheon’s little brother. 
As April approaches this was the time I felt the biggest pull of motherhood. Birthdays and mother’s day right around the corner. The earth blooming. Hayley loved her birthday, she loved me for making each one special. How will I survive April? How have I survived 7 months without her?
It feels like the tides that we loved to watch. When you look up tides in a thesaurus, you see words like ebb, direction, course, drag, drift, wave, or flux. These words are such good descriptive words for where my grief is right now. It is an ebb and a flow. I can remember Hayley and I looking for sand dollars for hours. As the tide was changing direction we would run out to see if we could find one and run back as the water chased us, screaming and giggling. PNW ocean is never warm. I feel that my grief will be drifting out to with the tide only to turn course and come crashing back around my ankles just like those times on the beach. I can feel and hear her but I can’t reach her in the tide. Sometimes the tide drags me out and makes me fight the waves to get back to shore. This happened yesterday.
Henry asked me to please get him girl scout cookies; he has a thin mint addiction. I agreed. I mailed some bracelets at mail post and headed towards Safeway. I hear very loud giggling and screaming only to turn the corner to find a swarm of Daisy Girl Scouts. For those that don’t know, Daisies are Girls Scouts that are in Kindergarten. They have their own “petals” to earn to complete their Daisy on their uniform. I waited my turn and watched the mom say over and over “quiet ladies; One at a time girls; Say thank you; take turns”. It was my turn, I asked for four boxes and asked them to tell me how much I owed. The cutie in charge of the money was clearly counting when miss smarty pants to the left spouted off 20. I patiently kept my attention on the first girl and asked HER if that was correct. I had at least four little hands grabbing at my 20, but I gave it to her. They literally tossed cookie boxes into my bag. I giggled when the mom said “ladies careful these are precious cargo”. Yes they are. As I walked into the store I begin to remember. My friend, Tena, and I were the troop leaders for Hayley’s Daisy group. Of course being overachievers we always picked the most complicated activities to earn the petals. But I remembered like I was there the first time we stood outside of Safeway and tried to corral our troop. They had been just as excited and practically attacked every shopper. I was that mom trying to calm down the competitive ones and give the shy ones a little push. I started to shake in Safeway and the tears were threatening. Hayley was the cutest Daisy Scout ever. I suddenly could not remember everything Henry had asked me to buy at the store. I felt ashamed when I realized that I had not been in Safeway for weeks. Henry and Scott had been doing the shopping. Sometimes I would send Henry in with my debit card and he did the shopping. I quickly excited and was in a full out sob as I got to my car. I tossed in the odd assortment of items I did get. I sat with my head on the steering wheel. When will this feeling of drowning stop? I want my little Daisy Scout back. The waves of that experience continued to hit me until Scott was home and a Xanax was on board. I felt weak. I feel like the course of my days are set by a tide table. One I can’t predict.
This morning I woke up screaming her name. I had felt as if I was drowning. Four a.m. and I am on the couch with the dogs hoping the 2nd Xanax kicks in quickly. Henry woke up not feeling well either and I made him go to his first class that is a struggle and then brought him home. I never got out of my pajamas to do that. We both slept for several hours. Even the puppy slept next to me. He knew the tide was high. I took him to the dog wash just so I could accomplish something and because he was so stinky. I failed today. I didn’t get anything I wanted accomplished done. I have no clue what Henry ate and the dog decided to lay outside in the muddy grass. I often dream of Hayley as a mermaid. Scott likes this image too. 
When will the ebb and flow of pain soften and smooth the surface? When will the sand stop moving under my feet? When will the elusive perfect sand dollar be in reach. The tide was just too high for me today.
❤️❤️