Triple Argh

I am still sick. Some upper respiratory crap. I can't believe one person can make so much snot. I am pretty much ready for it to be over. Argh.

My mom told me yesterday that my cousin's girlfriend is expecting a baby next month. We never heard from this family (my aunt) after Serenity died. Nothing.

My cousin is younger than me, early twenties. He was severally autistic as a child, and went through special education. He is on disability for the rest of his life, and is never expected to work. He is often extremely single minded, and our conversations have always been all about him, or his latest obsession. He's never asked me about anything in my life.

He's had this girlfriend for awhile, a gal that also lives under the care of her parents. I met her at my grandmother's funeral, she was showing off her engagement ring. They are both extremely unhealthy - they can split a whole pizza between them. They are also lazy, my aunt and uncle never requiring him to mow the grass or do other chores around the house. My aunt, uncle and the two boys live in a tiny two bedroom house. The only one that works is my younger cousin, who also has developmental issues, but who has worked at Target (he brings in the carts) for at least three years now. I've always thought that the boys were fine, but that their upbringing could have been better. But the expectations aren't really there. I am very proud of the youngest, who works and has friends and saves money for his priorities (typical boy stuff- video games, movies). My sister and I have tried to figure out what would happen to them (we grew up in different states) when their elderly father and then our aunt die- but we have never been told. The younger boy might be able to live on his own, but I don't think that he really knows how to manage a household (bills etc). The older one, with the pregnant girlfriend, I guess would need assisted living.

As an aside, I have always worried that something would be wrong with a baby of mine. Incidentally, my mom says that my cousin's mental retardation was caused by a short umbilical cord that choked him during labor. I also think it has something to do with his father's chronic alcoholism and advanced age when he was conceived (he was like late 50's and my aunt almost 40). My aunt also had learning disabilities (back in the day before there were such things). But, I always knew these things were in the family.

Anyway. Girlfriend is due in March. I don't know what prenatal care she has gotten. I don't know how long my aunt has known that she is pregnant, considering my mom just heard about it a month before the due date.

I am completely unsettled by all of this. My aunt will end up raising this kid (she told my mom this directly), while waiting on her nincompoop husband and taking care of the eldest and the girlfriend, who is going to be moving into their basement. I guess the girlfriend, my cousin and the baby will be living in the basement Argh, argh.

I am mad. I am frustrated. This is just what is making me crazy these days. And it would even if I had my wee one-year-old sitting here with me. It is not a great sitaution.

And Van's cousin is due in less than two weeks too. Triple argh.

It's nearly been a year...

It's nearly been a year since he's been gone

And we still sing his goodbye songs

I think I may have originally been introduced to this song (and artist) here in DBL.

This song hasn't left me. This is a man who knows grief.

I guess I'm gonna give up

Not give up life or living. To me, it means giving up the battle with the grief, giving up the unwillingness to accept my daughter's death. Trying to pursue again my hobbies, albeit sometimes without success:

I dropped my paintbrush in the dirt
Still remember just how much that hurt

Triple S sang this song last night, with his guitar. I think it might have been the first time he tried to pluck through it. I was busy, and only half paying attention to him as he sang through different songs. But this morning, it was in my head. I asked him if he was playing this song the night before, singing a few, disjointed lines that were stuck with me. Then he remembered, and played it again. We discussed the lyrics a bit while we ate breakfast, before he headed off to work.

This isn't a song to which I must apply a mental shift in order to make it fit my deadbaby emotions. This isn't a romance of longing. This is the real deal.

I just can't seem to get it right today

It was hard to find a youtube video of it. It's not a happy song, maybe not wildly popular. But he does perform it - painfully- live. Although he is hidden by the microphones, this version is standout. Did you notice how quiet the audience was?

Thank you, Joe Purdy. For such a beautiful, authentic song. For sharing your pain.

(And, I bought a bunch of your albums, because of how much I liked this song...and I hope to see you perform live sometime)

Honest Scrap

Thanks to Hope's mama, Sally, for tagging me. I love receiving an award extolling my honesty!

The rules of the award:

1) Choose a minimum of seven blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.

2) Show the seven winners names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with "Honest Scrap". Well, there's no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.
3) List at least 10 honest things about yourself.

10 honest things about ME!

1) I am extremely sarcastic. Which is not really far from lying. I have to be careful with it.

2) I am a terrible typist and now a terrible speller. I rely on Spellcheck way too much.

3) I can barely write by hand. My handwriting was never great, but I can't even write a letter to my grandmother. Plus, there's no spellcheck. I usually type it up and print it out. She really needs email, but she's 90, so it's probably not going to happen.

4) I like to procrastinate; I think of it as professional development.

5) I am a conspiracy theorist.

6) I think I am an idealist and that I tend to have a positive outlook - that the world can be a better place. However, I am also a realist and have little faith in established corporations and organizations.

7) I love to eat.

8) I never wanted to get married or have kids. Then I met Triple S.

9) I read too fast. I just want to get to the end of the story, and skip over too many details. I have lived my life this way in some regards too.

10) I am terrible at remembering movies, actors, bands, etc. There are very few movies that I want to see a second time.


I received this fine award a few days ago, started a draft, and just now got back to it. In that time, I was also tagged by a couple others, and I think a lot of the blogs i read have done this! If you read my blog, and haven't posted this yet (including all you lurkers!), consider yourself tagged!

Disconnect

A nearly indescribable sense has accompanied me for a few weeks now. I feel disconnected. From what, I don't know, How I don't know. As I type this, I hope to figure something out.

In some ways, I am very happy. Triple S and I are perhaps more in love than ever before.

I am quite content working at home. Yes, maybe I am obsessive on Facebook (I AM that person in the office that spends too much time at the water cooler), but, for the most part, I am content to be by myself. That's not to say that I am not procrastinating, but heck, I am the boss. I would like more business, just for increased finances, but I am not stressed out about it. My daily life is good.

If I am out and about, I am perky. I am smiling. Laughing. Pleasant.

I think I feel disconnected from my sadness. It's there. Sometimes it's like the quiet girl at the party. In the corner. But reasonably content to be at the party, watching everyone else be crazy and listening to everyone else talk.

I've never been a very shy person. Well, those that know me may think that is an understatement (and maybe you can even tell from my comments). But I do have my moments. For instance, I totally do not know what to do with shy people. They kinda scare me, and make me paranoid. I can't read their expressions. They're not talking, so I don't know what they are thinking. They don't wear their hearts on their sleeves, like I do. They make me shy.

It seems that my grief has become shy. It's afraid to be seen in public, to make anyone uncomfortable. It's taken a back seat, it's being led instead of leading, it's off in the corner. And now, I don't know how to interact with it.

Perhaps it is waiting, perhaps it is watching. Perhaps I need to make the first move. I can't tell. I am used to my grief dictating my schedule, erupting uncontrollably through sobs and anger. Is it now lurking, waiting to pounce on me when I least expect it?

About three months after Serenity died, I stuck a post-it on my computer monitor that reads "Contentment", written in green ink. I thought at the time, my goal in life from here on out would be to acheive contentment, because I didn't think I could be happy without my daughter. Happiness and contentment are subtly different. I've always viewed contentment as happiness with a shade of longsuffering.

Maybe I have reached that point that I once viewed as a lifelong goal, that I could only hope to one day reach. Now that I am here, I am not sure if it is happiness or contentment, or neither. My mood is light. I am in a good place. I accept that I am living a life without my first child. I can still be happy about other things. I can't remember a time in my life that I was ever completely happy. There was always some angst (particularly teen angst, which, of course, was the absolute worst), or something in the big scheme that was keeping me from total enlightenment. Right now, the happiness in the day to day, when I am not looking at that shy emotion in the corner, outweighs my stresses. This is the point I wanted to get to before becoming pregnant again. To give myself a break. But I can't say that I am unrestrained in my happiness.

I am also quite content. Life is ok. Spring is coming (and today is tricking me at nearly 70 when it could be 15). I am dreaming of my garden, of biking, of the summer warmth. I love not working under a stupevisor. The cold doesn't seem to be bothering me as much this year as it usually does. But I am not completely content, because my daughter is not here.

I think I am just being. I am present. And maybe that is another form of contentment or happiness, or whatever you want to call it. I am not struggling against anything right now. I am not pregnant again, nor trying to get there. For the first time in 15 years, my back pain is retreating. I simply am.

Maybe I am with my grief, standing in the corner. I am happy to see life going by, to see what others are doing. I don't really want to talk that much. My feet are itching to get on the dance floor, but I would likely resist anyone trying to drag me out there. I accept just being here.

Warmly Remembered

Triple S and I spent Friday remembering Serenity. There were some tears, but I am happy that it was not a day of uncontrolled pain. Some happiness.

We received a few nice cards from friends. The thing that touches me the most is when others say they miss her and their dreams for her.

Triple S played a song for Serenity, "Amor Eterno'. We've been humming and singing it all weekend.

At the memorial service last year, our friends wrote notes to Serenity. We read them on Friday. We looked at her pictures.

Triple S baked her a steamed almond sponge cake.



***
Loving and missing you sweetie.

Preserving death does not preserve life

I just picked up the February 2009 issue of the National Geographic magazine. "What Darwin Didn't Know". 'Oh this should be interesting,' I thought, 'especially since I am currently reading the Origin of Species.' However, when I picked up the magazine, I didn't grab all the pages, and it fell open to a photo near the back, of a mummy propped against a wall.

"What the hell is this?"

I was mesmerized. The photos, the concept, completely drew me in. Why, exactly, I don't know. It is more than macabre, for it truly is death.

While I didn't absolutely care for the tone of entire article, at least it is putting death out there. For the living to see.

This time last year 7

That was a foot trying to push its way out, through my abdomen. It's the last movement I can remember now. I don't know if that is because there is a picture of it, or if it was indeed the last perceptible movement. I just don't know.

My mood is eerily smooth. It has me on edge. I can't force my emotions one way or the other, and I can't predict what they will be tomorrow. I have to actually work tomorrow, so I hope they are calm and collected then.

I am so ready to mother, just not sure about readiness to be pregnant again. I suppose, when it comes to it though, I will just go forward and get through it. That's all we can do.

My Nemesis Tag

Oh cheese, why are you so full of fatty yumminess?

Do you have a nemesis that keeps you from a physical, mental, or emotional goal?
Vanquish your foe by posting your nemesis.
Focus on one nemesis per post.
All readers should consider themselves tagged!

This time last year 6

I remember that Friday was a snowy day here last year. I called off work, wanting a day to relax. I had a list of things that needed done, I wanted to enjoy a day late in my pregnancy, and I knew the in-laws were to arrive soon. I also didn't want to risk the baby in a car accident. The steering wheel was exceedingly close to my stomach.

I don't remember what I did that day. Maybe I have notes jotted in my notebook, maybe not. I went for a pedicure. I couldn't really reach my feet anymore. And the ankles were swollen. I hadn't realized how much until I took this picture:



***
Today, much like last year, will go by without me likely remembering what I was doing. I dropped an old computer off for e-cycling, I went to Yoga. I putz'd around the house on a few chores.

Mostly, I thought about Serenity. I thought about how sad I am. How tough it is.

Now that the blond highlights are growing out, I've noticed how many gray hairs I have. I had just a few near my part last year. Now, there are gray hairs all around the front of my hairline. I have aged. Noticably.

***

Last night, Triple S and I had a fight. This is the first fight for a long time. Over a year. Like most fights, it was over nothing. A misunderstanding over an insignificant thing. All on a background of the impending re-opening of partially healed wounds and large dose of grief. For Triple S, it is the birth of his co-worker's baby. He hadn't told me, saying he didn't want to make me sad. Really, I would be relieved to know.

***
The last several days, I have felt blocked up. I feel disconnected from the universe, even from myself. Nothing is flowing. I went to stitch the first seven days of my quilt together, only to find that the tension unit is completely busted. How that happened I don't know. Not an auspicious beginning to my quilt.

It feels like nothing is going on in my life today, because I am spending time in the past.