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<\/p>\nMy therapist has pointed out that I am a very empathetic person.\u00a0 Which probably explains why I cry easily watching sad news stories or feel their joy when soldiers return home to their family.\u00a0 Hayley was just the same.\u00a0 My mini me.\u00a0 I have an active imagination.\u00a0 In the last 19 years I have imagined every scenario possible that would result in one of my children’s deaths or injury.\u00a0 I know it is kind of creepy.\u00a0 I am the one that researched the shit out of every single car seat I purchased.\u00a0 For two kids I purchased more than 8 different car seats and boosters.\u00a0 They were never handed down.\u00a0 I always had to have the latest in safety.\u00a0 I would read results from lab tests.\u00a0 I always paid attention to the laws in countries like Denmark.\u00a0 They were always the leaders in safety. \u00a0If we had an accident my babies would survive. \u00a0I was the one informing other moms to not face their child forward yet. \u00a0Scott had a running joke that he still digs up after 20 years.\u00a0 It goes like this.\u00a0 “Hey Dawn, I am having trouble going to sleep, can you tell me about your car seat research”.\u00a0 No joke, he said it in the last month.\u00a0 Once I survived car seats. \u00a0Poor Henry was the only kid in 2nd grade still using a booster. \u00a0“No Henry, let me read you this report, you have to be a certain weight and height, I love you and want you safe”. \u00a0Poor guy he acted like I was making him wear pull ups to school. \u00a0Then junior high. \u00a0The girls do what to the boys in the back of the bus? \u00a0WTF. \u00a0I have always viewed the raising of my children to be a war. \u00a0I was the general and responsible for guiding them safely through the various stages of childhood the best I could. \u00a0So when I told her that I could tell if she gave a boy a blowjob it was just my way of battling the forces of evil. \u00a0That reminds me of a memory. \u00a0Many of you have heard this story, mainly cause it is funny shit. \u00a0Hayley and I took a parent and kid class at Overtake Hospital about sex and puberty. \u00a0It was around the 4th or 5th grade. \u00a0I went with her friend and her mom, they have known each other since 6 months old and now they were giggling over tampons. \u00a0Hayley pulled it a part and pretended it was an earring. \u00a0At one point they separated us. \u00a0The kids went with a pediatrician to talk about their bodies without the uncomfortable moms listening. \u00a0Us Moms and it was 99% Moms, we sat and listened to another medical professional tell us all the scary things we had to worry about. \u00a0She told us about the Blowjobs aka Favors. \u00a0My head was spinning. \u00a0The one thing that stuck was you have to talk about oral sex. \u00a0She said before Junior High. \u00a0To make sure you don’t skim over it when having “the talk”. \u00a0That week we had “the talk” but not the “oral talk”. \u00a0She wasn’t in Junior High yet. \u00a0Scott participated in “the talk”. \u00a0The books I read suggested an involved father was the key to for a daughter to successfully navigate puberty. He had no issue with it. \u00a0I orchestrated a plan with him. \u00a0I talked to her alone. \u00a0I had books. \u00a0Then 10 minutes in he joined the conversation. \u00a0He told her he loved her so much and that she could talk to him about anything even periods. He may have mentioned killing any boy that hurt her. \u00a0He truly is the best father. \u00a0He was there for her on Black Friday 2012 when she got her first period and I was out with my friends. \u00a0I brought her home a giraffe pillow pet and Scott, I brought him a bottle of Vodka.<\/p>\n
So she is in Junior High. \u00a0I am stressing out because I have not had the “oral talk”. \u00a0I am waiting for the perfect moment. \u00a0I thought it had come. \u00a0We were on our way to dance and from the backseat of my white Honda minivan she says “Mom what is a BJ?”. \u00a0 Here we go!!! \u00a0 I had rehearsed this moment for months. \u00a0“Hayley, I am so glad you asked me that” \u00a0I then proceeded to verbally vomit on her all kinds of wisdom. \u00a0I told her I could tell if she had done it. \u00a0I told her it rots your teeth and if she did that I wouldn’t pay for braces. \u00a0I told her that it can cause cancer. \u00a0Don’t judge, it is a war. \u00a0I told her that oral was sex no matter what the boy said. \u00a0I told her that I hoped she would respect herself and say no. \u00a0I explained that as a feminist I found the whole idea of giving a blow job and getting nothing in return was a load of crap. \u00a0This may have gone over her head. \u00a0Finally I took a breath. \u00a0I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her trying not to laugh. \u00a0I then hear this “Hey Mom, I really appreciate the information but I know what a BJ is, I asked what is a VJ”. \u00a0What? \u00a0On the radio they were talking about MTV and how one of them had been a VJ. \u00a0“Oh, well that is a video jockey, they introduced music videos. \u00a0But do you have any questions about the other stuff?” \u00a0I lost track how many times I heard her tell that story to her friends. \u00a0“You won’t believe what my Mom did”<\/p>\n
We survived Junior High with no penises. \u00a0Then she is 16, she is driving in a car alone and with other teen drivers.\u00a0 How can I make sure she is safe?\u00a0 Where is she right now?\u00a0 Has there been an accident?\u00a0 College, Will she drink and fall down those damn cement stairs outside of the Mathis dorm?\u00a0 Will she try drugs?\u00a0 Will she trust the wrong person and I will never see her again? Then back to the car, is she too tired to drive the two hours home?\u00a0 Is she driving too fast?\u00a0 (yes)<\/p>\n
Being so paranoid about my children’s safety I often wondered how someone survived the death of a child.\u00a0 I always said I couldn’t survive that.\u00a0 I couldn’t function.\u00a0 I saw it happen to women I knew.\u00a0 How is she still standing?\u00a0 I guess because of her other children, still, I would not be getting out of bed.\u00a0 What did it feel like?\u00a0 I wonder if I am not the only one that obsessed over these thoughts.\u00a0 Some of you have wondered how I am still standing.\u00a0 I have actually had people, mostly strangers say to me, “Wow, how are you standing? I couldn’t. I would not be able to do what you are doing, I would be curled up in a ball.” \u00a0“Well that was Tuesday, Bitch” \u00a0Maybe it is a compliment.\u00a0 But what I hear is this person\u00a0 judging me.\u00a0 They think I should be grieving more. \u00a0It feels like they think I didn’t love my child as much as they love theirs. \u00a0The reason they think this is that people think grief is obvious.\u00a0 They think you can see it.\u00a0 It is crying.\u00a0 It is not leaving the house.\u00a0 Let me answer that question for you.<\/p>\n
You cannot always see it.\u00a0 What you see is just the absolute tiniest tip of the iceberg.\u00a0 I had no idea.\u00a0 I thought my well developed empathy allowed me to put myself in these other Mom’s shoes.\u00a0 I have never been more wrong in my life.\u00a0 While I worried about Hayley’s driving and other obvious dangers, her future lurked.\u00a0 It never occurred to me that an outpatient day surgery with an epidural could result in her death.\u00a0 Of course we sign the forms that say we understand there is a chance that could happen.\u00a0 But even the anesthesiologist skimmed over that and said it would all be fine.\u00a0 It was not fine.\u00a0 You truly believe that doctors and nurses can fix anything and that they could never cause more harm.\u00a0 How could I forget that they are human beings with flaws and not one of them perfect.\u00a0 As a paranoid Mom how did I ever think that.\u00a0 What if I had worried as much about this as I did the car seats?\u00a0 Would I have been able to keep her safe?\u00a0 I have always had 100% trust in the medical field.\u00a0 It never occurred to me that a hospital would be so incompetent in their care over those 5 days that I would lose one of the loves of my life.\u00a0 That only happens to other people, not me.\u00a0 I have handled enough in my lifetime.\u00a0 I have always laughed when I saw that quote, “God only gives challenges to the people that can handle them”.\u00a0 Seriously, Fuck that!\u00a0 I have handled my share for at least a dozen people.\u00a0 Deaths of Grandparents.\u00a0 Death of my stepmother while I watched. Death of my Father, watching his body being wheeled down the steps in a black bag realizing we will never have the chance to repair a complicated relationship.\u00a0 Death of more than one friend.\u00a0 Divorce with parents that made bad choices.\u00a0 Separation from Scott.\u00a0 I have been fired from the job that I was absolutely the best at.\u00a0 I have been sued for helping an employee.\u00a0 Cardiac Arrest.\u00a0 Pacemaker.\u00a0 I have had 9 surgeries in my lifetime.\u00a0 I survived a DVT, blood clot.\u00a0 I am way over my quota. \u00a0This is bullshit. \u00a0I want her back, I deserve it, I have earned it.<\/p>\n
Grief is not just one feeling.\u00a0 It is not a list of feelings and physical pain that fits neatly in a box.\u00a0 It is always changing.\u00a0 It changes even from hour to hour.\u00a0 For example; I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen.\u00a0 Constant and sharp.\u00a0 I cry.\u00a0 I want Hayley with every fiber of my being.\u00a0 We are trying to plan a trip as a family.\u00a0 Every idea is one Hayley would love.\u00a0 There is that sharp pain like a knife being twisted.\u00a0 I need her.\u00a0 I need her right this minute.\u00a0 I found another sock behind my nightstand.\u00a0 So cute, pink and white.\u00a0 I smelled it.\u00a0 It smelled like her skin.\u00a0 I told Scott to smell it, he agreed.\u00a0 Asking him to smell his daughter’s sock no longer even seems odd.\u00a0 The pain is so sharp, yet the tears are slow and big running down my face. This grief I call the knife.<\/p>\n
Then there is the slow burn.\u00a0 It usually starts earlier in the day.\u00a0 It starts out slow and it gains strength as the day goes on.\u00a0 I am irritable.\u00a0 It doesn’t necessarily make me cry. \u00a0The fire grows.\u00a0 The memories feed it.\u00a0 Little things feed the burn.\u00a0 A shoe.\u00a0 A Target run, I should grab Hayley that, sigh.\u00a0 Christmas decorations.\u00a0 The fire grows all day.\u00a0 Sometime it only takes an hour.\u00a0 Then it explodes like a back draft.\u00a0 The crying is physically painful.\u00a0 I throw myself down on the floor, my whole body is tense.\u00a0 The sobs are loud and they burn.\u00a0 As slowly as it started the fire is drenched by the tears until you just physically are done for the day.\u00a0 The slow burn usually requires Xanax.\u00a0 People judge others that use pharmaceuticals to survive.\u00a0 I don’t.\u00a0 Those medications are what keep me standing and breathing.\u00a0 My hope is that they will be my bridge to a time when I have the strength and skill set to manage my pain without them.\u00a0 But if I never do, I am okay with that too.<\/p>\n
Then there is the choke. \u00a0When I cannot talk without choking up. \u00a0Every sentence I am fighting the sobs. \u00a0I am shoving the pain down as hard as I can. \u00a0I feel it in my skin. \u00a0I feel it in my eyes. \u00a0I will look at the person with me and just hope they can see my signals. \u00a0I am not Okay. \u00a0Look in my eyes. \u00a0My throat is tight. \u00a0I can barely breathe. \u00a0Where is she? \u00a0Why did this happen? \u00a0When this type of grief is surfacing I need to talk about her. \u00a0I have to. \u00a0If I don’t I will choke on the grief. \u00a0If I talk about her she will not be forgotten.<\/p>\n
Grief does not have a template. \u00a0The steps, Denial, Anger, Acceptance, etc. \u00a0That is bullshit. \u00a0There are so many more words and stages. \u00a0They don’t happen neatly in an order. \u00a0You can cycle through all of the stages in one day. \u00a0You can be stuck on one for weeks. \u00a0This pain is all consuming. \u00a0I am not me. \u00a0I am a shell of me. \u00a0I rarely look at myself in the mirror. \u00a0When I do I am startled by what I see. \u00a0My face does not look like me. \u00a0My body carries the extra weight. \u00a0My face is swollen. \u00a0My eyes are not mine. \u00a0I see someone else. \u00a0I don’t want to be this person. \u00a0This is not real. \u00a0Where is she? \u00a0Bring her back to me. \u00a0Bring my daughter back to me. \u00a0Our Family is missing a wheel. \u00a0Hayley and I were the two front tires in a front wheel drive vehicle. \u00a0Henry and Scott were the back. \u00a0They still have their half. \u00a0My half is gone. \u00a0I am so lonely. \u00a0I am lonely in a crowd. \u00a0I am lonely with people that have gone out of their way to make me feel loved. \u00a0I have had so many amazing women reach out. \u00a0People that I only knew their name prior to the nightmare have stepped up and done so much to keep me standing. \u00a0That support is the only reason I am still here. \u00a0Half of me died with Hayley. \u00a0But the other half thrives on this attention. \u00a0Food, cards, little things on the doorstep, texts, emails, stories of Hayley. \u00a0Sometimes it comes in other forms. \u00a0I had mentioned in another post about Hayley and I loving to leave our mark on any display that had the alphabet. \u00a0It was too tempting, one of us would be the look out. \u00a0Saturday night I was at Target at midnight, closing. \u00a0It was great, no crowds. I found some ornaments and came up with the only word I could. \u00a0“Damnit” \u00a0I can hear her say it. \u00a0“Damnit Henry! Get your shit together”. \u00a0I can hear her voice trying not to break into a giggle. \u00a0Trying so hard to say it without laughing. \u00a0I posted it my work on Facebook. \u00a0One of my new friends, one of my new tribe members posted a picture tonight from the same Target. \u00a0Obviously it had been corrected, she made it Hayley worthy again. \u00a0I laughed, a real one. \u00a0I startled myself. \u00a0I had forgotten what a laugh felt like.<\/p>\n
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The Inspiration, Damnit #1<\/p>\n
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Thank You S.C., maybe we are trend setters<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My therapist has pointed out that I am a very empathetic person.\u00a0 Which probably explains why I cry easily watching sad news stories or feel their joy when soldiers return home to their family.\u00a0 Hayley was just the same.\u00a0 My mini me.\u00a0 I have an active imagination.\u00a0 In the last 19 years I have imagined … <\/p>\n