It has been 8 weeks since I heard my daughter’s voice, before she heard me say “I love you”. \u00a0I have not been able to write. \u00a0My mind is so cluttered. \u00a0Our counselor looked at me and said “you have a lot going on in your brain, it never rests, you are always thinking of several things at once or what you want to say”. \u00a0Yep, feels like a computer with too many tabs open. \u00a0He saw that in me on the 3rd visit. \u00a0Scott, he said, nope not the same.<\/p>\n
What we have figured out in counseling is that after 27 years we really don’t know each other. \u00a0We really have not grasped how different the other one thinks or process experiences. \u00a0In the sessions we learn something about each other every time. \u00a0The only time I feel hopeful is the short time after the appointment. \u00a0I think maybe we can do the work to move closer together instead of further apart. \u00a0When I get home that feeling disappears. \u00a0We are just too tired.<\/p>\n
The first week after Hayley’s death I had a new cause, share her donor story. The next week we were busy planning her service. \u00a0After the extraordinary service, messages began rolling in. \u00a0Stories about Hayley. \u00a0#belikehayley was now about something more than Be an Organ Donor. \u00a0Then there was weeks of consistently sobbing and begging for my baby back. \u00a0School started and a schedule of normalcy began. \u00a0We are starting three weeks of school for Henry. \u00a0Now comes the final two weeks that Hayley was supposed to be spending a wonderful summer with me. \u00a0Moving into her apartment next weekend, starting classes on the 27th.<\/p>\n
Instead of feeling better it is getting worse for me. \u00a0My projects have started to slow down, the glassy baby sale is coming to an end and now there are only tasks that I have put off, the things I don’t want to do. \u00a0Calling insurance, dealing with her car, sending her death certificate to where it needs to go, filing for unemployment, writing the thank you notes that can never really express the extensive gratitude I feel.<\/p>\n
I have been out more. \u00a0Thursday a field trip to meet puppies on a farm in Stanwood and a day with friends. \u00a0Friday a concert at the Fair. \u00a0A long drive to get there and time to cement a new friendship. \u00a0Time with my sister in law. \u00a0Emotional time with my mother. \u00a0 An impromptu evening with a friend while my ice cream melted in the car. \u00a0Today, pedi, mani and brunch with a new friend, one that stepped up as a stranger opened their home and property to 500 people and is now my friend for life. \u00a0On the outside looking in, that might all look positive. \u00a0I am getting out, I am being social. \u00a0This would be what Hayley’s mom would normally be doing.<\/p>\n
But every outing in the past week ends the same way. \u00a0Like a toddler that has been overstimulated as soon as I walk in the front door, I have to sleep, I am exhausted, my voice feels hoarse and I feel weak. \u00a0I have not cried today, I don’t think I did yesterday either. \u00a0I felt like crying several times. \u00a0There were the constant reminders of what I am missing, who I am missing. \u00a0But no tears. \u00a0I am like a Zombie at home. \u00a0I really cannot find the words to describe how I feel at the start of this 8th week. \u00a0I will try.<\/p>\n
When I am out in the world I feel like there is a bubble of sadness surrounding me. \u00a0I was a Peanuts fan as a kid, you know Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Woodstock, and more. \u00a0I imagine myself like the character, Pig Pen. \u00a0Pig Pen walked around in a cloud of dirt. \u00a0I never understood why, or if his friends addressed his obvious grooming issues with him. \u00a0We didn’t question these things as 70’s ![\"\"](\"http:\/\/hayleysmom.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/pigpen.jpg\")
kids. \u00a0But I walk around with a cloud of grief, sadness, annoyance, frustration, exhaustion, pain and anger. \u00a0I feel like I can see it circling around me. \u00a0I believe that others can see it too. \u00a0 I feel like I am wearing a sign that says “my daughter is dead”. \u00a0You think this is not true, you think you don’t see the cloud, but you do.<\/p>\n
You can see it in the fake smile. \u00a0You notice I have no eye make up on, why bother, crying and eye make up don’t mix. \u00a0Most often I have only brushed my teeth. \u00a0 You may notice the new 25 pounds I am lugging around in the puffiness of my face, my neck, or my ass. \u00a0I can only fit into sweat pants. \u00a0You see that I am wearing men’s sweatpants. \u00a0What you don’t know is they were Hayley’s favorites. \u00a0I rarely match the top to the bottom. \u00a0I don’t style my hair. \u00a0Many times it is wet from the shower I forced myself to take before that store trip. \u00a0You are seeing the cloud of grief. \u00a0You see me move slowly. \u00a0You see me limp. \u00a0You see me walk like I have aged 40 years. \u00a0All of those visuals are the dirt that is swirling around me. \u00a0You see the cloud but you just can’t put your finger on it and your brain tells you I am supposed to look sad so that must be it. \u00a0I am a Zombie Mom.<\/p>\n
At home I interact with Henry. \u00a0He is the one that can get a real smile out of me. \u00a0The time he hugs me for no reason. \u00a0When he tells me about something he is interested in without me prying it out of him with a hundred questions. \u00a0When he shows interest in the future when he talks about cars he likes. \u00a0He is the reason I even have a future. \u00a0When I speak to him, my voice sounds normal. \u00a0But the second he is out of the room, Zombie Mom.<\/p>\n
Scott and I are rarely even interacting at this point. \u00a0In our defense we have both tried to be active this past week, just not together. \u00a0For the past 4 hours I have sat on the couch staring at the TV. \u00a0I have no recollection what I watched. \u00a0I know an hour was about shark attacks. \u00a0The only reason I remember that is I recall thinking, well let’s take Hawaii off the list of places we can go and hide from the holidays. \u00a0I only moved to get another water and to pee. \u00a0Whenever one of my kids says I don’t feel good, I have a headache, I am tired, I tell them drink some water and if you still feel bad let me know. \u00a0Water cures everything in our house. \u00a0It is my version of Caster Oil or Vicks Menthol Rub.<\/p>\n
I can’t cry today. \u00a0I have stared at her photos. \u00a0I have thought about what could have been done to save her. \u00a0I have actually tried to make myself cry. \u00a0But I am numb. \u00a0I don’t even know where this entry is going. \u00a0But I truly believe I am not only broken, but I am different people. \u00a0Zombie Mom and Pig Pen Mom and Faking it Mom. \u00a0A friend asked if I had Fun at the Fair concert Friday night. \u00a0My knee jerk reaction was to say yes. \u00a0Isn’t that the right answer? \u00a0Seriously that should have been FUN. \u00a0Tone Loc, Salt and Peppa, drunk army wives behind us that said they loved us. \u00a0But what I said was “I am not sure if I did, I think I did, but I just think it is a different definition of fun now”. \u00a0 \u00a0Fun is relative.<\/p>\n
You would think I would embrace Zombie Mom, embrace the numbness. \u00a0Compared to Sobbing Mom. \u00a0But you know what, this is so much worse. \u00a0Sobbing Mom can be comforted with a message from a friend or a bag of fruit and treats on the porch. \u00a0Zombie Mom can’t be reached with those simple acts of friendship. \u00a0I tried that today. \u00a0I had love coming at me from multiple places when I was out. \u00a0But it didn’t follow me home.<\/p>\n
Zombie Mom scares me. \u00a0The thoughts are not about missing Hayley or about how much I have learned about her in the last 8 weeks. \u00a0Zombie mom feels numb, hopeless, lonely when not alone, and so very heavy. \u00a0Heavy like I am carrying around weights on my ankles, my wrists and on my shoulders. \u00a0I feel like I might just forget to breathe. The truly scary part is not really caring if I did forget.<\/p>\n
Zombies are hard to destroy. \u00a0They can be shot and keep moving. \u00a0They have horrific injuries and keep walking. \u00a0Maybe being a Zombie Mom is just being a survivor. \u00a0The ability to move and walk despite a body and mind that is destroyed. \u00a0Is this the next “phase”? \u00a0Who wants to be around a zombie or pig pen? \u00a0Am I going to isolate myself until all of those open tabs in my brain are closed? \u00a0Is this what real depression feels like? \u00a0Would Hayley be ashamed of me? \u00a0I keep hearing “you are so strong”. \u00a0I don’t feel strong. \u00a0Do they mean it or are they just trying to wish it to be true?<\/p>\n
I don’t know.<\/p>\n
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It has been 8 weeks since I heard my daughter’s voice, before she heard me say “I love you”. \u00a0I have not been able to write. \u00a0My mind is so cluttered. \u00a0Our counselor looked at me and said “you have a lot going on in your brain, it never rests, you are always thinking of … <\/p>\n