Mastering the Chaos

It has been six months since Conley died and almost two months since I last blogged. Honestly, I think about blogging all the time, but when I sit down to start writing, there is just so much going on in my head, that I don't even know where to begin. I had lunch with a friend recently and was talking with her about how there seems to be "chaos" in my head; how I wanted to write about it because sharing my experience is important to me, but I did not even know how to start. But, saying that out loud made me realize exactly where to start. Simply starting. It does not matter where, but just start somewhere. A theme that pops up often. You have no idea where to start making sense of everything once you have lost someone, but you have to start somewhere. Anywhere. You just have to start and that will take you wherever you need to go. Another theme over the past couple months; shit, years; is that there is so much going on; physically and emotionally. So much happening; so much detail; so much information; so much chaos in my mind that I often have a hard time gathering thoughts in a coherent scheme. But, sometimes when I feel this way, putting my thoughts into words on paper can actually help me compartmentalize and manage the chaos. While at times, blogging can feel overwhelming, I try to remember that putting my thoughts into words is the only way I survived every single day when Conley was so incredibly sick. 

One of the main reasons I have not blogged recently is because I felt like I would have a difficult time writing a smooth, flowing, beautiful blog like I had in the past. Conley let me do that - he let me write about him so freely and effortlessly, because he gave me passion. Now, the passion is crippled by emotion and chaos. I worried that my new blog would jump from topic to topic and I would go off on tangents. But honestly, that is how the brain works when you are grieving; at least my brain. There is no continuity of feelings; no stringing of emotions together; and no thinking about experience to experience - well, unless you are obsessing over it, which definitely happens more often than I'd like. For the most part, everything is tangential and you are sidetracked from thought to thought - putting your feelings and thoughts into words seems like an insane idea. Then I thought, what better way to express how the last couple of months have been for me than to allow myself to jump from topic to topic. That is what it is like for someone in the middle of grief - you hear it in conversation and you see it in emotion. One second you could be happy and feel somewhat normal, and the next moment you feel like hiding away from the world. Nothing flows; it is all random. And that is okay. And the easiest way for me to blog when my mind starts working like this is to make a list. So I did. Here is a list of all the shit that has been running through my mind these past few months. Far from a complete list.

• Triggers are no joke. Especially triggers that are unknown. It easy to see how certain dates, comments or memories that pop up can be triggers and make me feel overwhelmed with emotion, but the worst triggers are the ones that I had no idea would affect me so greatly until the smack you in the face. Pretty much bulldozing over my body. Like seeing people pregnant - particularly those having a second child. Of course I am happy and beyond excited for these people to experience such a wonderful moment, and would never, ever want to discourage people from sharing this information, but often times it send me back to the moment where I felt that happiness to know we would be having a second child; a sibling for Choice. It is all we wanted. So much so that we planned the pregnancies close together. I want to sit in the happiness with them; feeling the innocence again. I remember feeling so innocent and within a matter of hours, it was all stripped away from me. All of the emotions flooding in and then spiraling out of control - to the next thought that leaves me saddened. Will we have another child? I get asked this a lot - with good intentions of course. Though, as always, our situation is complicated. I want another child - so bad. To best honest, I am not sure if we are having another child. If you asked Jonathan, he'd say no. Hell no. But, my heart definitely desires this. I want more than anything to have another baby and truthfully, I loved being pregnant. Loved carrying a baby in my belly. But for us, for our family, there are so many factors that go into this decision. Obviously, all of the emotional factors of raising another child, and at the same time, being unsure about the genetic issue or lack of knowledge regarding our children's medical needs. While there is no known genetic cause for the medical conditions with Choice and Conley, I find it hard to believe that there is not a link between the two genetically. Not knowing almost terrifies me more; knowing that another child could also be born with chronic medical complications. The last thing I want to do is bring another child into this world knowing that he would encounter so much pain and suffering. Having said that, I never would have made a different decision regarding our pregnancy with Conley, but having the knowledge I have now, there is no way I would be able to do all of this again, especially being smacked upside the head halfway into the pregnancy. I want more than anything to be able to give Choice another sibling and experience the wonderful idea of being pregnant, so this is a topic I typically obsess over. While everything in my heart desires to have another baby, to be pregnant, the idea that there is a chance, even the slightest chance, that this child could also be born with a lifelong struggle of medical complexities scares the crap out of me. Not only has the idea of raising my boys together been stripped away from me, but so has the idea of conceiving another child.
• Another huge unknown trigger - my other child ignoring or rejecting me. For a long time, Choice was all about mommy. He always needed mommy, no matter what. He never wanted daddy - only mommy. At the time, while it was frustrating and exhausting, I also felt needed and important. His desire for my love, only my love, is what kept me going - I could not let him down. Now, since we have put so much effort on providing a safe environment for Choice to balance out separation and love, he has started becoming more obsessed with daddy, and sometimes even has more of a preference for daddy. My gut tells me to be so happy that our work has produced a sense of safety and comfort for him - this was a primary focus since Conley died. But, shit, who knew that feeling rejected by your toddler would hurt so much - especially in a moment of grief. I talked about this with Jonathan and it has been really helpful, because I now understand part of his sadness and resentment the first couple of months following Conley's death. Our toddler wanted nothing to do with him and was always asking for mommy; only mommy, That is like twisting a knife into his heart.
• Speaking of Choice, every week is a different experience with him. More symptoms present and different behaviors arise, though it is hard to understand which are associated with grief, terrible two's, his strong will or his underlying medical issues. Behavior such as repetitively hitting and punching at school (yes, punching - where did he learn to punch?), difficulty sleeping, being overly affectionate with strangers, etc. Jonathan and I often talk about how well-adjusted Choice has been since Conley was born, and even more so since Conley died. He is such a resilient child and it just goes to show what amazing parents we have been to him. I will gladly accept responsibility for that because it is the truth. And sometimes, when I feel myself being a little hard on him for his transient behaviors, I have to step back and remember how much transition and grief HE is going through. We have a hard time processing all of this - could you imagine being a toddler and not understanding what has even happened?And still not having the range of language needed to fully express such emotion? Most adults cannot even put this into words. And truth be told, he should be a lot worse off than he is. The fact that he is doing so well should be my focus instead of focusing on the negative behaviors.
• I work out. Exercise. A lot. I started back into CrossFit a couple months after Conley died and have started supplementing yoga into my life as a form of therapy and meditation. Sometimes I work out multiple times a day, when I have the time. Working out has been a huge source of relief; a huge stress reliever. Exercising has been all I have know since I was young. Sometimes exercise is the only thing that makes me feel happy - that makes me feel alive. So yes, I do it a lot. Sometimes people say things like "Must be nice" and "How many times have you worked out today?" I even get the comments like, "Do you work?" and "What do you do besides workout?" I often joke how real work gets in my way of working out. Honestly, I don't take offense to any of those comments because truth be told, yes, it is very nice! It is very nice to be selfish and spend time on me. I'll admit it. I hear people say how lucky I am to workout or eat healthy. It IS nice - it IS a luxury - one that I did not have for so long - so I realize how special this time is to me. I do not see it as an obligation or a chore as I once did - I see it as a blessing that I have something that I care about and love. People would always say that it was important for me to take care of myself when I was caring for Conley - but they have no idea what that means. There was no way. Of course, at times, guilt tries to creep into my mind and makes me feel bad about taking care of myself. But, for so long, almost two years, I neglected a huge part of myself to sacrifice for my children, like any mother would. Yes, you would. Because that is what parents do. You do not think about it. If it's you or your child, you will always chose your child. I didn't take care of myself. I was not really able to - it was something I sacrificed for my child. I was not the normal pregnant woman who was able to continue working out while pregnant - no, I was in the hospital force feeding myself crap so that my child would gain enough weight to survive the pregnancy. I don't say those things out loud because that's just messed up, but it is the truth. And I would gladly do that all over again, but since I do not have to, I will do what makes me happy - I will do it when and how many times I want, as long as it does not affect my primarily responsibilities - my family. And remember, the only reason I am able to do this is because my child is dead. So, while it is amazingly nice and I am thoroughly enjoying being able to see muscle definition again and fit into clothes that have been in the back of my closest for years, it is all because my child is dead. It's been a long time since I've been able to make a choice like this; a choice for myself; a choice for my health. And I will not feel guilty about it. I will be appreciative that I have this choice.
• No one really initiates conversation about Conley. Well, a few people do. In the beginning, I sometimes felt overwhelmed with emails, texts, and messages about Conley. I loved reading every single memory, story and impact that he had on other people's lives. As the weeks went by, conversation dwindled down. It is crazy to me - it is only been six months, but it seems like the hype is over. "Seems like so long ago." I hear that often. It may seem like that to you, but I remember that my son died every single day. You might forget, but I don't. Every now and then, I have people reach out to me to talk about Conley, and I absolutely love it! Really, I do! But truth be told, his name is rarely mentioned throughout the day. All I want to do is talk about him, but when I do, I feel a sense of discomfort and awkwardness creep into the conversation. I'm not sure if that is something that I am projecting or if it is coming from the person I am talking to, but regardless, it is uncomfortable to sit in grief and talk about a child that died. Not many people can do it. Sometimes I wonder if people get annoyed by me constantly mentioning memories about him or talking about what I have learned from this experience - but then again, I don't really care. I have noticed that when I need to talk about Conley or I need reassurance that his story was real, I typically post something on Facebook to initiate conversation. So - talk about him. Mention him. It's okay, I promise. I may cry or tear up, but I am not crying because of sadness, I am crying because you remembered him and you talked about him, which brings me tears of joy.
• That brings me to the next one - I have been crying a lot. Sometimes constantly. This last month has been harder then the first five months. I am not sure exactly why, but everything makes me cry. I am not depressed, but I cry - a lot. Part of me thinks that I am crying because I am happy. Weird, right? It is a strange and uncomfortable feeling to have a sense of happiness even though your child died. I have choices, I have another beautiful child to come home to, and I have a wonderful husband that has really worked through this whole grief thing with me. Not many people can say they have all those things. And sometimes, I feel an immense amount of guilt for feeling happiness again. I am not going to lie, it was hard to find happiness when Conley was so sick. For a long time I was very unhappy - I spent time complaining about things when I should have spent more time enjoying him. It's easy to say that now in hindsight, but let me tell you, the guilt is pretty bad. So, I beg you to appreciate each moment you have with your children, even though it may suck and it can be hard and you may even feel like a failure. You may feel like things will never get better or change. They will; hopefully for the better and not the worse. Regardless, who cares - enjoy every minute.
• Grief groups rock. We found a grief group that meets weekly. This particular one is a group for parents who have lost a child. I try to go as often as I can. I am glad that as a therapist, I can promote how group therapy works for me. I have often facilitated groups and wondered if they were really effective, and now, being on the other side, I can say, at least for me, HELL YES. I I feel myself often saying "I need a meeting!" Jonathan and I alternate weeks since we have not yet felt comfortable having childcare for Choice so late in the evening. Real people who have been through the same thing. The stories you hear, the feelings so genuine, and you can talk as much as you want about this shitty experience . Everyone is crying - no one is uncomfortable. It is expected that you be a mess. It has truly been a blessing for us, and at the same time, so sad that there are so many parents out there grieving in the exact same way.
• I am so glad I married my husband. While at times, he is an ass - I was truly blessed with an amazing person. (I needed to write this one down while I felt this way so I can always come back to it and read it the next time I want to smack him). We have been through so much together - way too much in such a short time. There have been many, many times where it has been horrible and devastating and crippling; saying things that are so cruel, coping differently, and being separated from each other physically and emotionally. There have been many times where we were told that the divorce rate for parents after child loss is almost 100%. Thanks for the pep talk. To think about losing a husband AND a child - there are no words. Going through child loss alone is horrendous, but having to manage your own emotional wounds, taking care of yourself, and at the same time, somehow find a way to support another person through their grief is unfair. We have been on different pages - on different levels - so many times. Often times we still are. Each time we hit a road block head on, it brings the pain and sadness closer to home. But, with that said, we have made deliberate choices to allow each other to grieve on our own terms. He is amazing. We are amazing. We both provide each other with something worthwhile - I do not really know what it is or how long it will be there, but we make sense right now. Who knows what next week will look like, but right now, it works.