The Tide

One thing that Hayley inherited from me was the love of the water.  Specifically the Washington and Oregon Coast.  We spent hours looking for sand dollars; we have them in clear jars all over the house.  She had sand from Cannon Beach in a jar.  We went every year since she was 6 months old.  I don’t know when I can go, but I will bring a part of her ashes there some day.   We had planned to get small wave tattoos in August.  She didn’t know I had made the appointment.  When I was convincing her to go small with the first one and do it as a team I would send her images and words to remind her what the wave tattoo would mean to us.  Like “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you.”  “she is tossed by the sea but does not sink”  ” mightier than the waves is my love for you”.  Who knew all of these images and words would become so meaningful to me.  Here are some of the images I text her on a daily basis.  I always sent her something like this every day.  Not all were inspirational!

The ocean will always be our place.  I crave the sound of the ocean.

The one that says “Feelings are much like waves, we can’t stop them from coming but we can choose which ones to surf”  That is so applicable to this grief.  The problem is that I have not learned which ones to surf.  All feel like giant waves that toss me around until I am exhausted.  This grief is not getting better it is getting profoundly worse.  I am wondering why?  I think the first half of this four months I was manic.  Find ways to honor Hayley.  There was a constant stream of food, friends and love on our porch.  I am so blessed because that still happens but less frequently.  AND WAIT, before you rush over to put something on my porch, I am not asking you to do that.  I believe that constant in your face support and care, well that holds you up like having a bar on either side of you to hold on to.  Now it is much quieter.  The quiet brings memories.  It brings Hayley to me. The quiet brings the grief.

It comes in waves.  A trigger makes you catch your breath as the first wave hits your body and your mind.  You gasp at the force and the pain of that wave. Then it recedes and the next one comes.  All you can do is ride the wave and brace yourself.

My body and mind are never truly at rest.  Recently I have what I can only describe as a storm.  Waves that come too close together, I can’t catch my breath.  Twice this has happen in the car.  Once was just the thought out of the blue ocean of grief, If we had chosen to take her to the ER in Seattle instead of Issaquah on July 11th she would likely still be here.  Such a small decision at the time.  The doctor said Seattle, Hayley said Issaquah.  I knew they would move her by ambulance to Seattle where they have more depth if she needed bigger care.

They did not move her.

This one decision haunts me.  When that wave hit it was a shock.  I could not control the emotions associated with those choices.  All I could do was sit in the car and scream her name.  The other time this week my brain played back the reel of watching her die.  Watching them give her CPR while I was restrained by Scott.  The two of us made this beautiful human and we watched her go.  I could hear as I was driving home on Friday my screams and Scott’s sobbing.  I called Sara and all I had to say was “talk me down”.  She did.  I don’t know if that is PTSD, but it is all consuming.  I am terrified of when that wave may come again.  It is so overwhelming.

How will I work?  Financially I have to be back to work by February or we will be in a stressful situation.  We are so grateful for the go fund me page and our communities generosity.  No one does financial planning for the death of a child.  You have to make sure you would have the ability to not work for at least the 14 weeks Scott had.  So how do I interview, how do I sell myself to a company.  How do I make them see past my grief and know that I am talented and a hard worker?  I don’t know.  The thought of working on my resume and interviews makes me shiver and hyperventilate.  I hold my breath until the panic passes.  How do I sit down and write about myself in a way that makes someone pick up my resume over another.  Joe Schmo won’t have this underlying disabling grief.  I can not imagine doing anything other than trying to survive each day.  Can I find a job that pays me to breathe?

I want to open a business.  Hayley and I had a business plan ready to go.  We even called on property.  We wanted to know how much it would take and how long before we could save the seed money.  It was such a wonderful way to teach her and share what I learned in college as a Business Major.  Just as I loved hearing about her classes and how excited she was for the ones she had in the fall.  Her friends are starting to come home for break.  She should be here, she should be in her room with her night time routine of “Lock Up” on her tv.  She should have been there to admire Henry as he tried his new tux on.  She would be driving down Wednesday for his first Band Concert.  I have no doubt she would do this.  Our dream was to open a storefront, a self service dog wash.  A place dog lovers can gather and bath their pets and let us deal with the mess.  We had retail sales planned and the name.  Bark Club.  We had clever marketing ready to go.  Another dream that ended with Hayley.

She and I were planners.  If we were going on vacation we had to know the plan.  We had planned to rent a small RV and start visiting National Parks for one month next summer.  Our goal was to visit all of the National Parks.  We planned to visit Cannon Beach.  We talked about another boat trip with my parents.  Our love of the trip we had to Cape Cod.

Before her July 11th surgery we had her decor, bedding and kitchen gear all ready to go for her new apartment.  There are boxes in a storage unit marked “Hayley’s Apartment”.  She was ready for her Sophomore year in a way that made us so proud to be her Parents.  She was starting to show the drive that I had at her age.  I was so happy to see my gene pool kicking in.

I don’t even know where I am going with this one,  I have lost the thread.  The ocean…waves represent to me the emotions that are constantly hitting me and withdrawing.  The tide is the change in attitude that happens constantly.  It can be only a few times a day like the Tide or it could be hourly.  You pray the tide goes out quickly so you can pick up the pieces and wait for the next wave to hit

My brain has been exploring the differences between father and mother.  Scott and I are totally opposites.  Not the best subjects for these thoughts.  I don’t think he or any father can ever understand the bond a mother has with her child.  I do not take for granted or ignore the bond Scott had with Hayley.  He worked hard to stay close with her.  We knew raising a successful teen takes an involved father.  But when that child has come from your body there is no comparison.  She may have been 19 years old but it feels as if she was ripped from my womb.  I feel the waves hit me.  I can close my eyes and feel her moving inside me, I can pull the memory of laying my hands on my huge belly and talking to her about how fantastic life would be.  We didn’t know if it was a boy or girl.  But my heart told me girl.  She lived inside my body for 36 weeks.  While there she took a piece of my heart with her.  I just don’t think Scott can understand the physical pain that I feel inside of my body.  From day one she had me smitten.  You love your child, but I honestly liked her.  Physically I feel the missing piece every day in my Fibromyalgia pain, I feel it with my stiffness, I feel her loss in my stuff nose from crying on my sleep.  My heart aches.  She took some of it with her just like the waves take sand and toss it into the ocean.  I may find it again walking on a beach, but for now I am not whole.  I am desperately trying not to drown.  I am standing strong against the pounding of those waves.