Hayley's Mom

Hayley’s favorite date of the entire year was April 29th, her birthday. I made a decision when she was born that Birthdays would always be a big deal in our house. I can remember clearly the night that Scott and I decided it was time to have kids. We talked about parenting philosophies, what did we want family life to look like, how many kids and what kind of childhood did we want to give our future offspring. This memory cracks me up. We were 26 and 31, what the hell did we know about raising kids. It is pretty funny. We talked about Birthdays. Some of our friends had kids and they had big birthday parties and they were awesome. They were really more for the parents. We both agreed that we wanted to go big on Birthdays. I told him how my Mom always made me the same cake most of my childhood, lemon-lime refrigerator cake. I wanted to develop our own traditions. When Henry was born 9 days after Hayley’s birthday it became even more important that we make both dates equally special.

Hayley was all in on this plan. We went to the zoo for birthdays every year (yes even as a teen). We surprised the kids with Disneyland one year. We always had a theme. Her first year at college we were lucky that her birthday was on a Saturday and she would be home for the weekend. She was very clear that we would always be physically present on her birthday forever. She made sure we understood that meant when her Birthday fell on a weekday that she fully expected that all three of us would spend that day in Bellingham. We created a birthday monster, the tolerable kind.

On her 18th birthday she wanted a plain Safeway cake. She was very clear that she wanted no theme, she was an adult. Being opinionated didn’t just happen, that apple fell very close to the tree. We had to have a theme, that was my rule. So I went rogue and ordered a very adorable Monster University cake to celebrate that she was heading off to college and she loved Disney.

The tantrum that she threw in the Safeway bakery was epic. I kid you not. She was so upset. I am not exaggerating, she threw a full out tantrum, tears were involved. I remember angrily pushing that cake around the store in our cart while we finished our shopping. I was pissed, she was being ridiculous. She thought I was insensitive because I didn’t honor her wishes on HER birthday. We both stomped around Safeway, both on the verge of tears. I was torn between wanting to teach her that 18 year olds should not throw tantrums. I wanted credit for the cute idea. I did not want to admit I was wrong. I yelled at Scott through text about his bratty daughter. Being Scott he simply replied, “Dawn it is not about you, it is her birthday, get the cake she wants, not the one you want”. Well Shit. So we went back to the bakery. She hung back. I had to explain to the baker that although her work was beautiful we needed to make some changes. I asked her to take the plastic characters off the cake. She insisted on me taking them in a baggy since I had paid for them. Mike and Sully were mocking me in my purse. It was still a cake with an outdoor scene and a path. I approached Hayley the way you would a caged tiger. I asked her if flowers would be acceptable. She graciously agreed. I went back to the counter, she added some flowers and we were out the door with the almost plain cake. I had thoughts about how I would destroy the stupid Mike and Sully characters in my purse when I was alone. I recently came across those two smirking bastards in one of my desk drawers.

One year, Hayley insisted that she wanted the Safeway princess cake. The one with the barbie in it and the cake was it’s skirt. This was my DIY phase in life. I insisted that I could make this cake on my own, I didn’t need to pay Safeway $50 bucks. (Don’t even ask about some of Henry’s cakes and Halloween costumes) She had already had a big party at the magic arcade type place that I cannot remember the name of, Illusions maybe? She had a beautiful store bought cake at that party. (yes each kid usually had two celebrations, three if you count the ones I did in the classrooms) For her actual birth date party, I made the cake. I realized that the skirt was made of little piped rosettes all over the skirt. I mixed frosting, I was going for a light blue and pink. It turned out looking more like sunburn skin and mint green. I quickly got bored and my hand cramped from squeezing all those little dots on that damn cake. I finally gave up and just slapped frosting on one side. I had also not waited long enough for the cake to cool and the rosettes were sliding off the skirt and barbie would not stand up straight, the little bitch. Barbie was slowly falling backwards. She barely remained standing through the candle lighting and singing. She was litteraly sliding to the floor like she had just gotten lit at a Vegas girl’s trip, she had nipples and had gotten dressed in the dark. Hayley had her best friend Bailey over to celebrate, it was her 5th birthday. There was some snarky comments from the adults but Hayley was so proud of that cake. She told everyone how her Mom had made it for her. She mentioned it took forever and might have said that she had heard some bad words. She was so sweet and so kind, the cake was terrifying looking.

Several years later she had some friends over. It was middle school. That little brat threw me under the bus. She told her friends about this awful princess cake I made and found a photo in our albums to share. She said that I still owed her a real Cinderella Cake. For her 17th Birthday I ordered that cake from Safeway. It was a huge surprise. She had probably forgotten. I eagerly went to pick the cake up. I opened the box and again I kid you not, it was like deja vu. It was the most horrifying looking Cinderella I had ever seen. It was like Cinderella on Meth. It said Happy Birthday Harley. I literally started crying in Safeway. I sent a picture of it to my friend. After she probably finished laughing she said make them fix it. I asked the baker if she had number one made the cake and when she said no, number two, had she looked at the cake. I explained to her that my daughter had always wanted this cake and the one I held looked nothing like the model she had pointed out on the counter over the years. I was seriously crying. The poor woman did not know what the hell to do with me. She took one look at the cake and was desperately trying not to say “what the fuck”. I asked, was it the decorators last day on the job? She promised that she would make a new one in time for the party that evening so that my little girl would not be disappointed. She asked me how old was my daughter. Without hesitation I said 17. I recall baker side eye. I picked up the perfect Cinderella Cake just in time that night. We laughed about the photos of the first one. Hayley loved that cake, she still has the Cinderella Barbie in her room.

All of her birthdays were epic. The goody bags were the best part. The themes included: zoo, lady bug, bowling, earth day, peace signs and so many more. We had sleepovers at the Westin. Movie nights, bouncy houses, rainbow play system, that magic themed place in Issaquah that used to be Ernst and is now a gym. It is only fitting that one of my favorite photos was taken on her last birthday, her 19th. She was always grateful. She always loved her gifts. She loved that we always went to one of her two favorite places for her birthday dinner through the years. Golden Chopstix at Redmond Town Center or Stan’s BBQ in Issaquah. Safeway has come through for me over the years with several custom cupcake cakes and one perfect Cinderella cake. She always said she had a birthday week. It started on her birthday and ended on Henry’s birthday. She deserved a lifetime of birthdays.

2020 was always a featured number in our lives this past 20 years. So many milestones would happen for our family this year. In January I would start my last year in my forties. Both kids would have two quarters of school left. In April, Hayley would turn double twos and have a senior year spring break. In May, Henry will be an adult. In June, Henry would graduate High School at EHS and Hayley would graduate College at WWU. Hayley had pondered several times during their freshman years, what would we do if their graduations fell on the same date in 2020. I always had to convince her that we would figure it out. The last of childhood parenting. One last summer for them to be kids together before one moved on to college and the other was launched into a career. Hayley and I had planned to tour in a small RV this summer. Our goal to visit all of the national parks before she turned 30. Our girl’s goal. (Scott and Henry would consider road trips to National Parks the ultimate torture) In September, 25 years of Marriage and an empty nest. Moving Henry to Bellingham, Hayley sharing all of her favorite spots, tips for classes, professors and where to hide the fireball in your dorm room. One more annual trip to Cannon Beach, Oregon. 2020 was supposed to be a big year for us. Who could have ever imagined it would look like this.

Many people were expecting the same milestones for their families this year. I have had two years to prepare myself for the loss of these occasions. Others had maybe two weeks to mentally and emotionally accept these losses. No Spring Break trips, college students home early, no graduations, no special anniversary trips, no vacations and kids home ALL the time. Everyone has suffered loss this year due to this global pandemic. If I am honest I am somewhat relieved. I feel the loss of Henry’s graduation but at the same time it would have been bittersweet without Hayley there to make Henry smile for hundreds of photos. I love having Henry home. I may not see much of him as he has his own personal space that he rarely leaves. But he is physically here, I can see and try to hug him any time I want. When he is not home, I worry, I feel irrationally worried that he won’t make it home safely. I want to cover him in bubble wrap. He is my reason that I even get out of bed. I won’t have to see photos of Hayley’s classmates at their college graduations. I feel selfish that I am relieved.

Some will face traditional grief, the loss of a loved one from the Coronavirus. Most will face the loss of a life milestone. Many will face the loss of a job and financial security. I have read many articles about feeling grief during quarantine. It makes sense. The emotions of loss and grief are disappointment, sadness, anger, stress, empathy, confusion and fear. If you are feeling any of these emotions right now do not minimize or diminish any of your feelings. They are real. It is grief. You are mourning a loss of your normal. Now imagine feeling that way every single day for the past 2 and a half years. 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. If you can do that you are one step closer to understanding what grieving the loss of someone close feels like. You are one step closer to identifying those emotions in your grieving friends and family. You are one step closer to being able to help.

Most of us don’t know what to do for someone who is grieving. We really have no idea what to do when someone suffers the most atrocious and unnatural tragedy of the loss of a child. I know I didn’t have a clue. One of my best friends lost a child, so I had first hand access to understanding, but I didn’t really understand. You don’t have to be a parent to understand where the loss of a child falls on the grief meter. I have lost so many people in my life. When I read a story about someone’s loss I always judge it based on my own grief meter. It is most certainly not a contest but I admit that I judge. When someone loses a grandparent I feel sad for them, my grandmothers were important parts of my life. I was lucky that my children got to know one of them. But I can’t be angry that she died in her nineties. When someone I know loses a parent, again I compare. I am sorry your parent died. Nowadays anything under 80 feels like you got ripped off. My dad died at 52. My stepmom died at 36. I totally judge. Then I feel incredible guilt for it.

That is an emotion that people don’t tell you about. Guilt is a huge part of Grief. You feel guilty because you didn’t make the last conversation special, you didn’t always tell them how much you loved them, you didn’t visit them often enough, or you just let life get in the way of that relationship and now it is too late. Guilt is a huge, ugly part of my grief journey. A wise person recently helped me see that. He said he could see it in my writing. My guilt is so heavy. Hayley had 7 days that she could have been saved. Did I protect her as a parent? Could I have done more? Could have I been a better advocate for her? How come I let it happen? How come I have survived so many times and she didn’t? I should have protected her. It should have been me, not her. I remember having a conversation with her once about losing her or Henry. I told her I would not survive that loss. I believe I used that conversation to teach her to make safe choices because losing her would destroy me. Neither of us ever really believed it would happen. It was a dumb conversation to even have. If I lost one of my children I would not die because I would have to live for the other. Hayley and I had lots of unusual and nontraditional conversations. Scott and Hayley were close but he and Henry were excluded from the world Hayley and I created around the two of us. I feel guilty about that. I have the ability to love in really big ways. The love between Hayley and Henry and me is deep and unbreakable. I was so very lucky. I showered them with it and they reciprocated. The kids did the same with Scott. But that is not Scott’s way. Scott’s love is solid but quiet and very much kept to himself. It has taken me 30 years to accept that. I feel guilty that we left him out. Maybe we should have pushed him out of his comfort zone more. I worry that Henry feels less loved because of my all consuming grief for Hayley. This makes me feel guilty. I hope some day we can talk about it. Thoughts of Hayley can take my breath away but it is thoughts of Henry that allow me to take another breath.

Go easy on yourself, grief sucks. Try to remember that most of the emotions you are going through right now during quarantine are temporary. There may be a new normal. You may miss your child’s graduation but they are still present. It is okay to be sad about that, but at the same time you must find room for gratitude. Be grateful they are still present. They still earned a diploma, they will have another milestone, they will have more birthdays. I think back on events or milestones I missed out on when Hayley was alive. I remember feeling upset, sad and usually mad. But I don’t ever remember feeling grateful. I let those rough times be defined by negative emotions and never appreciated that they truly were temporary. Small blips on the radar. Therefore as a parent I modeled that behavior for Hayley and Henry. I taught them being upset and disappointed was okay, but I didn’t teach them that moving past that blip in a positive way was way more important. I focused on the negative. It took a tragedy for me to learn that shit happens, it is okay and move on. Because I know what the worst possible thing feels like and that blip was not it. Maybe if I accomplish anything, maybe you can learn from my experience. Put things in perspective. If you need to borrow my perspective that is just fine. You have my permission.

If you are frustrated and grieving during Quarantine it is time to find that perspective. I know you are getting stir crazy, sick of cooking, your nails look like crap, you have roots that make your hair look ombre, your kids are making you insane and if your spouse or partner makes that sniffling sound with their nose one more time you can not be held responsible for your actions. I get it. Remember perspective. I would give anything at all including years off my life to be locked in a house with Hayley. The job you are trying to make work remotely will still pay your mortgage. You have food, you have wine and a roof over your head. So many people do not. You are winning against a deadly virus. Again, your feelings are real. Acknowledge them but find gratitude. One of the emotions I miss most in my world right now is gratitude. I find it impossible to feel grateful for anything. How can I feel grateful for anything without my person in my world. When and how can I get to a place where I feel it and not just say it. I am grateful that Henry is healthy and is my son. I know it, but I don’t actually feel that emotion, because the next thought is always that he is living without his sister.

Quarantine life is so similar to the life I have been living for 33 months. Prior to going back to work 12 months ago, I was absolutely quarantined 90% of the time. I did not leave the house very often. I used Amazon Fresh to deliver my groceries. I sat on the couch in my spot surrounded by my four dogs. I wore pajamas and didn’t shower every day. Grieving looks very similar to being quarantined. You feel that you must avoid people so that your grief does not infect them. You don’t want anyone to feel as bad as you do. What I never understood about grief or even depression is that when you see me behaving like the old me that is not real. You may see me enjoying a concert like I used to. I may take a vacation. I may have a lunch date with a friend. When I saw a friend that was down or going through a rough time and they did something that they would have done before, I felt like they were getting better or healing. The thing is I am not healing, I am not behaving like the old me, my sense of humor is not back. I am just better at faking it. The old me was extroverted, funny, passionate about so many things, empathetic and talkative. (only listing the positive qualities, it is my blog) That is not me now. Now I am sad all of the time, I feel broken, I feel disconnected from people, I am angry, I am so tired, and being awake hurts. People call me strong. I think they say that when I am behaving more like the old me. What they don’t realize is that the real strength is that I can do those things while hiding the new me. That is my super power. I can do my job. I can be all those things that make me appear strong. But truly it is putting on a mask. It is an example of fake it until you make it. Will those things ever come naturally? I don’t know, I can’t answer that question, I am not there yet. Can a parent ever truly recover.? What does recovery look like? Those are big questions that I need to work on. When my counselor asks me what does recovery for me look like? I cannot even began to imagine. I have a very active imagination. But when I ask myself to ponder that question, all I can think is that I will absolutely never ever recover.

Guilt and Gratitude are emotions generally not mentioned when talking about Grief. But I know that the path to a new normal will require me to let go of Guilt and embrace Gratitude. If I figure out how to do that I could probably write a best selling book. Quarantine life is similar. It involves Grief and therefore guilt and gratitude. So acknowledge you are grieving real losses. Let go of the guilt. Guilt because you have not used your extra time to clean and organize your house like Karen down the street has. Guilt because you are still not making home cooked meals like the other Karen down the street. Do not compare. Guilt because you are juggling work and your kids and you really cannot do both well. Just let that thought go and do your best. Do enough to keep your work moving forward and at the same time embrace this time with your children. Most working parents have never had 8 weeks of time with their kids. Try to look past their annoying behavior and be prepared to go big with the teacher gifts this year. But treasure every single minute you have, when things go back to reality this time will be gone. Be grateful for all these extra minutes you have to get to know your children. Learn something new about them every day. If they don’t learn 4th grade math because you were not meant to be a teacher, trust me they will still get into a good college. Be grateful for what you do have and do not complain about what you are missing out on. I think 8 weeks of posting on social meeting how sad it is for the class of 2020 that they are missing so many rights of passage is enough! Stop bringing it up! Be honest, unless you lost your virginity that night, do you still reminisce about Prom? Make sure your kids understand you are proud of their accomplishments and not that they get to wear a cheap polyester gown that you can never get the fold wrinkle out of. The gown and shaking the hand of a principal they probably didn’t like very much does not define their accomplishment. It is sad, I am sad about it. But it is time to let it be. It is what it is. What we have done has saved lives. Make sure your kids understand that quarantine was not about taking away privileges and freedoms but about being a caring member of their community, saving lives is a huge accomplishment too.

I have waited too long to write. It has been 3 months. I have needed to write countless times but just couldn’t do it. Then when I felt ready, the holidays happened and I just didn’t want to ruin anyone’s celebrations. Now I don’t know where to start. This may be a long and winding post. Let me start with something positive. Work is good. My big event was at the end of September. It was such a great distraction. But then the demands on my time and brain decreased. It was the slow season. I have not been Okay for the past three months. Work has been patient and understanding. This makes me want to work even harder for this amazing organization.

I don’t know what triggered my decline. I have lost the ability to compartmentalize my grief. It seem to happen overnight. I am not sure what triggered it. It could have been the end of summer and watching all of her friends go back to college, what would have been her Senior year. The change in the weather? The Holidays? It doesn’t really matter. What matters is when someone is grieving they may not always be honest with you or with themselves. People ask “how are you doing?”. A normal reaction is always a bland “good” or “fine”. But when you have the weight of loss on your shoulders you really don’t know how to answer that question. I think it is natural for people to think well it has been a couple of years she should be doing better, she should be healing. That is so far from the truth. Like miles and miles from truth. When you lose a child you will never heal, you will never be better. You will just cope with different levels of success. One of the hardest things has been the passage of time. As time goes on, people naturally move on. Your tragedy is no longer one of the first things someone thinks of. A friend that lost a sister told me this would happen. The first months, year after Hayley’s death, so many messages of support, thoughtful things left on the porch and people there wiling to hold you up when you can’t stand. It was like an outpouring. Now it is a trickle. I know it takes energy to comfort a grieving person. I don’t blame people, they have lives, they have the ability to move on. I know they still care, it just isn’t as obvious. But honestly this is the time that you are needed the most. A grieving mother has now missed their child for so much time.

Hayley’s memory bracelets say “Be Kind. Be Funny. Be Real.” It is time to Be Real. I am not okay. The past three months have tested my strength. I think I just got worn out. Worn out from being strong, being okay, or just being. I have been so lucky to be able to work from home this past three months. At home I can control my environment to a certain extent. Out in the world I cannot control the triggers. At home I can function behind a computer or a phone and you won’t see the tears on my face. Sleep is no longer a reprieve. The nightmares are constant. I can tell you that any parent that loses a child suffers from PTSD regardless of the circumstances. The memories are ugly and brutal. The image of Hayley naked receiving CPR just arrives with no warning. It can happen at any time. I see it, I hear my screams, my wails, I feel myself lose control of my bladder, I feel the coldness of the cement floor, I see the other ICU rooms, the nurses quickly closing doors, I cannot stop screaming, I cannot breathe, I feel hands on me pulling me away from her when all I wanted to do was get to her, to save her by the pure force of my love. It is as real as it was on that night. I see the worried face of my brother arriving at the hospital. I see the shock on my friend’s face that drove me to the hospital and was a witness to it all. I see my pain and confusion on Scott’s face. I hear the nurse say “Hayley kept asking for her mom, she said call my mom. Then it just happened so quickly”. At that point I still believed the surgeon would save her.

This is the movie that continues in my head on repeat. That is why I am not okay. I still find myself wanting to tell Hayley something funny and always feel the same shock when I realize it is not possible. It only takes maybe a second for your brain to correct you. But in that second you truly have forgotten that she is gone. You feel the loss all over again, several times a day. Our family was even. So perfect. A boy and a girl. A father and a son, a mother and a daughter. She was my sunshine and Henry is my moon. I knew we were close, I knew I was lucky to have a daughter for a best friend. But it was only her loss that showed me how very close we were. I am so lonely without her. It is only because of Henry that I am still here. In the past three months I have questioned my purpose, my role and my very existence. With no answers. All you can do is take it one day at a time. I lost my stepmom when I was 17. The last thing she said to me was “learn to live one day at a time”. That is something I have strived to do for so long. Now I have no choice, it is literally all I can do.

Hayley was super focused on traditions. So many traditions. Going to Cannon Beach every year since she was 6 months old. Going to the Zoo on Christmas Eve every year. How we said goodnight. Collecting ornaments. In December Scott, Henry and I went to Las Vegas to visit family and to try to do new things, create new memories for Henry. It was the first time I had been without Hayley in Las Vegas. So many trips to see my Grandma, to spend time at my Uncle and Aunt’s pool, to hang out with cousins and now here we are with something missing. New triggers that you have to be aware of. It is like shit is coming at you at all times and you have to duck or swat it away. Almost like a video game. For example, my Uncle surprised us with an amazing two bedroom suite. I was expecting one room with two queen beds and a typical cranky teenage boy to put up with. As Henry went to put his suitcase in the second bedroom, there it was, coming at me. You have to react quickly. I grabbed his suitcase and put him in the room with one King Bed. I told him that his Dad and I would take the bedroom with two queens because it would be a treat to have our own beds, Scott is a bed hog. What I had just ducked from was Henry sleeping in a room with two beds, one that should have been Hayley’s, an empty bed staring at him. How would that feel? Phew trigger avoided. We went on a helicopter trip to the Grand Canyon, Henry wants to be a pilot. Here comes the triggers. Hayley never got to ride on a Helicopter. Duck. Remember the trip we took to the Grand Canyon. Swipe that memory away. There was an empty seat next to me in the helicopter. A seat for our missing piece. Headphones resting on the back of the seat. I rested my hand on that empty seat. It is endless.

We had a lot of fun and created some new memories. Henry even smiled. But I was still so sad, so very sad. Just when I think the darkness will never lift something happens that briefly breaks through the darkness. A ray of light. That happened during our vacation. Hayley was an organ donor. We have been blessed to make connections with three of her recipients. They are all grateful and I am happy for them and for their families. Such complicated emotions. A few months back Hayley’s Left Kidney, Chris, shared with me that he and his wife were expecting a baby. A baby girl. Because of Hayley. We talked about names and the joy of parenthood. I cried for the beauty of her gift and the devastation of my loss. He and his wife wanted to honor Hayley in some way. They chose to use Hayley’s initials. Chris messaged me the day we were taking our helicopter trip, they were at the hospital, it was time. Meet Harper Sage. Chris and his wife make it very clear that there would be no Harper without Hayley. There would not be a Chris. It is something I need to hear. Yet it is so hard to wrap my head around and untangle the emotions it evokes.

Grief is not something that you pack away somewhere and take it out when you feel like facing it. It is like an over-packed suitcase that you carry all of the time. It is not a bag you can check, you have to carry on. It bulges and the zipper will barely close. Inside are memories of my beautiful special daughter. Packed right next to the good memories are the terrible images of watching her die, of not being able to save her. It is like the dirty clothes are mixed in with the clean clothes. When life gets busy and stressful the way it has this past six weeks you occasionally have to put the bag down in order to function, you need both your hands free. The problem is when you pick it back up it has gotten heavier. As your body and mind get tired from work and life it is harder to carry that bag. If you are sick the bag is even heavier. The zipper won’t hold the load. It comes unzipped a little bit. When that happens your grief is peeking out for all to see. You try to zip it back up but it won’t close. You sit on the case and try harder. But that zipper will not budge. The only way to close the zipper again is to remove some of the grief. You take the memories out, you feel them, you examine them and you obsess over them. Which ones can I leave behind, which ones don’t need to go on this trip. But the difficulty is that nothing can be left behind, you have to pack it all. On good days your grief is neatly packed away in those suitcase organizers, you know the packing cubes. It all fits in the bag and you can roll it around behind you. Other days it is a hot mess of memories all crumbled up and shoved in the suitcase with no semblance of organization. You carry the bag with both arms because the wheels are broken and the memories trail behind you dragging on the floor collecting dust and dirt. You can barely breathe from the heaviness of that suitcase. Your arms are sore, your back hurts, your chest is tight and you dream of reaching your destination. The place where you can finally unpack your bag. But that place does not exist. You know in your heart that you will always carry this bag. The key is getting better at packing it. I am still learning. I have always been a terrible packer. I always over-pack. I can’t bear to leave anything behind, who knows when I might need it. So for now my luggage fills the overhead bin, under the seat and I have even taken your space with my bag. Be patient with me, make room for my luggage, it carries special cargo. Understand that I don’t have a choice, it goes with me everywhere.

Okay, remember in the last post about these two weeks of hellish dates. I said something about confronting them head on. Well that was a bunch of bullshit. These dates have kicked my ass. I barely sleep and I cannot stop reliving every moment of those days. Today was the last day I heard her voice. The day they figured out what was wrong yet couldn’t save her. It was too late. It was late tonight going into tomorrow that Terri raced me back to the hospital only to round that corner and see my baby receiving CPR. It all comes back every night. I can feel the air, see the corner, see the room, hear the screaming, feel my body lose control. As they did compression on her heart mine was ripped from chest and still feels like it is missing. I am exhausted beyond words. PTSD is like that. It lurks in dark places and sneaks up on you at the most innocent of times. They are not just dates. They are milestones in my life. Two years without her, one of the loves of my life, my best friend, my mini-me, my everything.

One thing that has been noticeable is how things keep going. In April her birth tree blossomed like it does every year, but she was not here to blossom alongside it. This month to signal the dates from hell my tiger lilies and shasta daisies bloomed. I planted them 17 years ago. I don’t tend them, I really do nothing. Yet July rolls in and there they are. The same plants. The same flowers Hayley would pick and bring to me until there were no blooms left on the plants. They march on. I don’t.

Being back to work is both a blessing and a curse. The distraction is helpful and I feel useful. The cause is worthy. At the same time I have to deal with people when all I want to do is curl up and cry or sleep. I am stressed out because my weight has creeped up since starting the job. This impacts the energy that I need to get up every morning, yet I don’t have the energy to care.

Scott is back to the hammock of grief. The weather has allowed him to put the hammock out. The gift Hayley gave him that he says was the best thing ever. He spends every evening and all weekend in that thing. He has his electronics. He is skilled at escaping and I am jealous. I don’t include Henry in my writings because I respect his privacy. He is a typical 17 year old. He spends more time with friends than he does with us. I miss the little boy. We are making him go to the coast next week with us. My cousin is flying up from Nevada to be with me. I know I am lucky that the support is there. I hope that being at the beach is soothing, I hope it brings me some sense of peace. Hayley was all about water. She always had to be near it.

Hayley was an amazing daughter. She was funny, real and kind. She could make me laugh when I was mad. I could always make her smile even when she was trying not to. I would give away my life for her to have hers back. But this is not a movie, this is real life and real life sucks.

They are just dates I say to myself but it is foolish to believe it. Today starts nearly two weeks of date hell. Today was the anniversary of Hayley’s surgery, July 11th. It is impossible not to think about what we were doing. Yesterday we went to her favorite restaurant at Redmond Town Center. Got her new PJS and comfortable tops. This morning she was nervous but excited. She asked me “Can I die?”. I told her there with risks with any surgery but since she was having an epidural it would be safer. We were very confident in her surgeon. She wore my Disney zip up jacket and sweat pants. We were taken back to a room where she put on hospital clothes. The surgeon came in and drew guidelines on her body. I remember being terrified about the recovery and keeping her comfortable. While she stood there getting drawn on, I was reassured that she needed the surgery. She was so uncomfortable, We talked about all the things she was going to be able to do. Exercise easier, Dance Again, Find a swimsuit that fit. Then it was time to meet the anesthesiologist. Gosh he was young, his name was Caleb. I explained to him that he was going to have a challenge giving her an epidural. I told him she would faint. He said it was more difficult but he could have her lay on her side. Red Flag. I trusted him. Aren’t we supposed to trust the people wearing scrubs and white coats?

Scott and I waited in a private room. It was prime day, I ordered lots of stuff for Hayley’s new apartment or just fun things I thought she would like. Many of those items sit in the original boxes in her room. The surgery was taking too long. A nurse came out to tell us they got a late start but that it was going well and we had another 45 minutes. Oh Okay. A few minutes later a coordinator came in to talk to us. Hayley and I had bonded with her, she had worked hard to get our insurance approval for the surgery. She said they didn’t get started late because of our surgeon but that the delay was because they had struggles and issues with the epidural. I was steaming. I told him I knew my daughter, I told him to have another plan, but he just couldn’t fail or give up and go general. Was that a failure to him. His choice killed my child. I wasn’t able to be there with her, she was so brave.

So today I run through hour by hour where we were. Right now we were at Swedish Issaquah Emergency room with Hayley throwing up every few minute and with an excruciating headache. It must be a leak in her spinal column from the epidural. It should heal on her own. I insisted they admit her and control her pain. It was a battle. Henry was at home, Scott took the first night shift and I went home thinking a couple of days of healing and fluids in an iv and she will be on the mend. I explained to a 15 year old boy that she was staying at the hospital. He said she will be alright. He was wrong.

A wise man told me I have to walk through these dates. I can’t avoid them he said or they will come after me. Better to confront them head on, so that is what I am going to do. I will bring you along on the journey. Hopefully it will make you realize how much good you have in your life because it can always be worse. Don’t forget that.

I am struggling. What else is new? This is probably getting old to read. Every breath I take hurts. Tomorrow is a half of a Mother’s Day. I am missing Hayley even more than normal. She loved to make people feel good on holidays. She would have done something special. Henry owns what is left of my heart but let’s be honest he is a teenage boy; they are not exactly the most thoughtful. I am looking forward to making him spend the day with me. I miss everything about Hayley. Mostly I miss her smile. I miss her smart ass mouth. I miss her love. This week the ptsd has crept up on me. I have had nightmares every night about what I witnessed; what she went through and how she suffered. The image of watching your child die never fades. It haunts me. I look forward to sleep so I don’t have to think but I dread it because the nightmares will come. Everything reminds me of what is lost. Mother’s day commercials all seem to be mothers and daughters. The target market. Even the dogs remind me. I sit next to her sweet Zoey. I wonder how old can she get. How will I say goodbye to her when she meant so much to Hayley.

Hayley’s friends are living their lives. Hayley should be. They are getting engaged. They are graduating college. She should be going into her senior year. Henry is struggling and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know if he can even recognize the grief that has been chasing him for the last year and a half.

I survived Hayley’s birthday. She would have been 21. We would have so much fun going to bars. I am sure we would go and order a non alcoholic beverage but just to be in a bar would have been fun. We had given thought to doing the floating lanterns on her birthday but there was no way Scott and I could make it until dark. We were in bed at 6:30 that night just breathing shallow. If we take a deep breath on days like that the flood gates would open.

I am jumping around today. I am almost one year out from my bariatric surgery. I don’t regret it but it has not been easy. I am certainly healthier, but I have not reached my goals and that feels bad. I am ten years out on my pacemaker. We will be approaching replacement surgery in the next 12 to 18 months. Another traumatic experience with a hospital I am sure.

Our state finally overturned an archaic law that prevented parents of children over 18 to sue on their behalf for at fault deaths. We will be moving forward on our lawsuit. I am determined that no matter how brutal it is we will be strong so that another parent won’t have to go through this slow walk through hell.

This was a confusing post I know. But it is how my brain works. It jumps around similar to this post. But it always comes back to the same dark place. Grief.

Every single person that suffers grief has a different path to follow. These writings have been my journey. I have written less because of two reasons. I feel no hope. Second, I had been looking for a job and I was afraid my writings would impede my efforts. I have the job now. I had to. We are a two income family. People asked me are you ready to go back to work? No, I will never be ready. Work is too normal and I am no longer normal. I am very lucky that I found a position with a local non profit running a large walk event. It is something I can believe in and so far the people I work with are high quality. But to go from spending the majority of my day sitting on the couch staring into space to working full time has had its challenges. First I have to build up my physical stamina. Second is having to interact with people. People everywhere, every day. In the first two weeks I have lost count how many times I have been asked “How many kids do you have?”. I talked to a friend that lost her son a few months after Hayley. We both agree this is the most difficult question. If I say I have a son and not mention Hayley, then I am not being true to myself. When I say I have a son and I lost my daughter the reaction can be cringe worthy. Most people are shocked, apologize and don’t know what to say. I usually end up brushing it off and that makes me feel like I am brushing Hayley under the rug. I say it’s okay, don’t worry. But it’s not okay, it will never be okay. So answering that question has been tough. On the other hand there are tons of people I have met that have no idea what I am going through. That is almost refreshing. I can be someone new to them. But it always comes up.

My last job was brutal. I lived and breathed the cause only to find I was disposable. Grief has taught me what is important and what isn’t. I don’t sweat the small stuff because it is all small. My goals are staggering and I am not freaking out. It is what it is. This is what I say to myself often. I have found that I flip a switch in the morning and as soon as I am done for the day I flip it off. What happens is that the grief can and has broken through my defense. The switch slips to on and I have to quickly flip it back off. I am not going to let grief impact my job. I have responsibilities financially to the family and to those that hired me in spite of my grief. Yes, I let it show during the interviews. I wanted them to know what they were getting, I wanted them to want the real me, grief and all. I am determined to manage my grief. That is where I am at the management phase.

The management phase is exhausting. You have to actually make conscious decisions to block the pain. The problem is that like a dam the grief will build up behind the wall. What I need to do now is to figure out how to safely let that pressure go. I still have not done the laundry in her hamper. I can’t see the urn without crying. April is tough. It’s her birthday month and happens to be national organ donor awareness month. She would be 21 this month. She would be so excited. I know Scott feels this month too. We still go to bed between 7 and 8 every single night. I get up at 7 every morning. That is how we manage our grief, we sleep through half of it every day. Henry is never home. He is always with his friends or working. It feels like an empty nest. I don’t blame him, we are no longer fun. This is his path, his way of dealing with his grief. But I miss my kids. I miss when they needed me. No one needs me now. I realize now work will help. I am needed at work. It’s something. Friends have moved on, they have to live their own life. No one wants to live mine. You feel like you should be getting better but you’re not. You may never be better you will just be different. No one asks, they don’t want to know. I am lucky to have friends that have lost children. What a horrible sentence. But it’s true, if I need to check in with someone that understands I have that available. I had breakfast with one recently and you would think it would just make me feel more sad. But it didn’t. Our little club made me feel better. There is comfort in knowing that someone gets it.

So if you want to know how I am; I am broken. I am working. I am staring into space. I hug my dogs. I go to bed. That is my day. It’s sad.

Every day is hard, sometimes the evenings and bedtime are extremely hard. I decided to try something new. I downloaded an app called “calm”. Insert snort laugh here. It is a guided meditation app with sleep stories and guided relaxation. I decided to go for the guided relaxation. I figured by the time it was done the tylenol PM would kick in. Here is how it went.

“Lay back, be comfortable. Focus on your breath.” Fine. “focus on your forehead, is it wrinkled, relax away the wrinkles” Bitch I am 48 of course there are wrinkles. Ok, Dawn, clear your mind, stop talking to yourself. “smile slightly to help relax your cheeks” Scott is going to come in and think I have a creepy look on my face. “focus on your breath” You said that. “focus and circle your torso, your digestive system” Damnit why did I eat that apple fritter; gawd I hope the prilosec kicks in soon. “Circle your hip and glutes” Gawd if I lose any more weight in my butt, it is going to be flat. Gawd my mom has a flat butt and she always complains about it. Am I going to have a mom butt? “feel your limbs getting heavy. all the way to your toes” Shit my feet are so dry, should I pause this and get some lotion. But would I put socks on, you know your ankle swells when you wear socks but your feet will be softer. Oops, where is she. Oh my hands. My hands are dry too. What is up with that? Maybe I should get some water. No I already have to pee. “stretch each finger one at a time” I have a finger for this chick.

So you can say the self guided mindfulness was a big fail. Next I tried a “sleep story”. Made it about 2 minutes into that and couldn’t do it. The voice was too calm. It made me aware of how tense I am. That is what grief does. I am always tense. I feel if I relax a little or let my guard down the flood gates will open. Someone sent me a really good explanation of grief. Picture a box, with a ball inside it almost filling the box. Inside the box is a pain button. As the ball moves around it hits the pain button a lot. It takes your breath away. As time goes on the ball may get smaller and it may start to hit the pain button less and less. This image really resonated with me except my box is lined with spikes on all four sides. If my ball rolls to the right or left or up or down the spikes puncture the ball, leaving scrapes and scars. I have to constantly keep the ball in the center of the box. That is my battle, keep the ball from moving, don’t jostle the ball in my chest. Sometimes it is just a quick shift and I can tell myself to stop. Other times the ball gets lodged in those thorny spikes and the only thing that will loosen them is a good cry. Life is changing for me. I have to go back to my work full time. I am currently job hunting so it is even more important to keep the ball centered. Maybe having the normalcy of work will help. It will make the days go by faster.

I am going to try another guided relaxation exercise. My goal is to not have an inner dialogue. My fear is that calm is a four letter world. Is being calm letting my guard down, will my ball roll?

I have had a task hanging over my head for nearly a year and a half now. Yes it has been 18 months. I am not sure how I have survived without her. One of the things that kept me going was all of the cards, goodies and notes on the porch. The sheer number of cards we received at the service and in the mail was overwhelming. There was nearly 200. I remember opening about 50 and having to stop. I couldn’t take another well intentioned attempt to comfort me. My daughter was dead and no card was going to change that. The cards were a part of the flood of care and love we received that literally kept me breathing. But the cards have been neatly sitting, unopened in a basket. I was starting to feel ashamed. Ashamed that someone took the time to write me a card but I couldn’t open it. I found an idea on Pinterest on how to display those cards. Today I finally sat down, and opened every single card. I read them all. I reread the ones that had been opened. It is unbelievable the love and care that jumped off those pages. I felt like I should send a thank you note for each card. This is my way to say thank you. Thank you to everyone that has been so supportive. I may not show gratitude but the only thing I am grateful for is all of the love and support I have received.

I loved how everyone really got her. They called her funny, strong willed and sassy (her teachers). People knew how kind she was. The memories she left with so many is amazing considering how short her life was. So I honored those cards by taking a little piece of them and making a piece of art. It is not 100% done, I am adding a vinyl cut out on the lower right of the glass frame that says #belikehayley. But here are photos, maybe you will recognize your card. Just know that I recognized the emotion that was in every card. I absorbed it today. It was both painful and uplifting. I choked down the emotion. Some days you can’t let it roll off of you, you must choke it down. Today was one of those days. I have something beautiful that is a piece of all of you to hang on my wall. Thank you.