I am having such a hard time with holidays. Easter is one of those holidays that I love. It’s right up there with Christmas for me. Last Easter, David and I flew into DFW and announced that I was pregnant. It was such an exciting time. I couldn’t even fathom that this Easter I’d be without Brielle. The church we go to here has a lot of events planned for Easter and I’m conflicted about them. A part of me is so excited, another part of me just hurts. I want to share these moments with Brielle, but how can I?
I thought about bringing Brielle bear to church for Easter Sunday and dressing her up in an Easter dress, but is that weird? No one else will know that it’s an urn bear. And then where do I find a dress? It’s a 17″ bear (just about her size when she was born) and newborn clothes fit, but are a little big, American Girl clothing fits her, but I only found one dress that I kind of like for Easter. I’ve looked on Etsy some, but haven’t found anything just right. Maybe I should look harder.
And what about Easter activities? I still like the idea of doing things for or with Brielle, but how? Do I fill an Easter basket for her? But what do I put in it? Do I color eggs? Make her a special cake? She hated cake. What do I do?
I know I’ve said it before, but I’m just not sure where the line is between grieving mother and crazy woman. I also don’t want to feel ashamed of taking Brielle bear places. That’s like being ashamed of Brielle, and I’m not. I’m just having a really hard time finding my new normal. I don’t even know what it looks or feels like. So how in the world do I find it? This whole grieving and child loss thing sucks.
David is the youngest of four. There was Rick, Ayme, Nathan, and David. David’s father died February 1998. Within six months his mother’s brother and his mother’s mother both died. A few months later David’s sister developed bone cancer. She battled for over a year and then passed away. A few years later David’s brother Rick was faced with tragic circumstances, developed severe health problems, and passed away. Nathan, living in Bermuda, then moved to Germany, and has been there ever since. That left David to watch out for his mother and Nathan’s son, Matthew. As you can imagine, David has a very close relationship with his mother.
David was always clear that he would be the one to care for his mother and I respect that. She has been incredibly kind and loving towards everyone she meets. And extremely accepting of me. David and I knew this day would come, we knew that eventually we would need to begin caring for her. We just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. David’s grandmother suffered from dementia as well, but it didn’t begin until much later in her life. We expected the same for Bernice, we were wrong.
It’s been challenging at times. I never knew Bernice outside of dementia, and when I first met her she was just beginning to show the signs. I thought she was an odd duck, but she was nice enough so I didn’t complain. I wish I had known her before dementia. I wish I had the opportunity to see her the way David’s family does. I love Bernice for who she is now, but I wish I could know her and have loved her for who she really is. It makes me sad when I see hints of who she once was shine through. I’ll get excited and think, “Are some of the things we are doing helping?” But then she’ll slip back into her fog and I’m at a loss to help her.
And then there are days where she looks at me and speaks with shocking clarity and wisdom. I always sit down with Bernice and explain to her what is going on, what David and are thinking about things, and what we are doing for her. I want her to stay in the loop, she deserves that. Even though she doesn’t understand what we’re doing, she understands that we’re doing something and she appreciates us treating her with respect. So yesterday I talked with her about some things David and I are discussing. And I shared with her one of my concerns, it was about Brielle. I told her I didn’t want to leave my memories of Brielle, but I needed to do what was best for all of us too. Bernice looked right at me and said, “Brielle will always be with you. You’ll always have your memories and she’ll always be in your heart.”
It was just what I needed to hear and what was even more comforting, was that I knew Bernice’s words came from experience. She’s been in my shoes and she knows. She knows how I am feeling, she knows what I need to hear, and even though she’s lost the ability to do some things, she still knows Ayme. She still knows that grief and joy. She understands that I have bad days, that sometimes I need to talk about Brielle, and some days I just need to be left alone. I don’t have to explain myself to Bernice. At one point I did, and she said, “Oh, I know. It’s okay. Don’t worry about me, you just take care of yourself today.” And Bernice will go on and do her best to care for herself or help me around the house.
Dementia is a very tragic disease and those who suffer from it are certainly limited. But I am learning to not underestimate Bernice. She has so much wisdom and love to still offer. She may not always understand everything, but she still understands the spirit of things and she has been a very encouraging and loving presence in this house. I am very appreciative of her and her genuine kindness.
I don’t know how to grieve. I seem incapable of it. I want to grieve. I want to feel something, anything. Instead I am out of sorts, numb…rational. I’m really not sure what to do about it. Everyone talks about grief like it is this thing you just do, as if it just happens to you. And it has me wondering if I’m defective. People cry when they grieve, right? They feel things. They experience sadness, anger, denial. They move through it. They go through stages. But I don’t.
I try to come up with an answer for my lack of grief. Not that I am not sad or don’t miss Brielle, but I feel wrong. Like I’m living in someone else’s skin. I am really not sure how to put into words what I’m feeling. I behaved the same way with my Papa. I love him dearly, but I never grieved him. I wanted to and still do. He deserved to be mourned. I want to mourn him. To celebrate his life and feel loss that he is gone. Instead I feel like an outsider, peering in at someone else’s life.
Maybe I’m just protecting myself. Maybe I’m having a fight or flight response and I’m just shutting it all off. While I took care of Papa, I remember getting away from the house and sobbing, because the reality of the situation was sinking in. Not his death, but how he was dying. It tore me apart. I understood it too well and it broke my heart. But it was not the time for me to be sad. Whatever he needed, I needed to be ready for. So I stood in the middle of the county road, cold air burning my cheeks and I shoved my pain as deep inside as I could. I stood there until I could feel nothing, not even the cold air on my face. And then I went back inside.
I did the same thing with Brielle, but it was different. I stayed open to her, to loving her, I let myself feel. But I refused to let myself grieve. Whenever my pain would begin to bubble up, I’d shove it back as quickly as I could. Brielle hated it when I was upset and it was selfish of me to experience negative emotions when her life was so short. She didn’t need to know anything about sadness, she just needed to know happiness and love. Sometimes I would slip and I’d apologize to her, rubbing on my belly and letting her know that I was just worried about her. I’d tell her it would be okay and then I’d tell her that she was sick and that she may not get to stay with Daddy and I. I’d explain to her what would happen and as I spoke I, once again, shoved my hurt deeper inside.
And maybe this is why I can’t grieve. Maybe I just can’t let go. Maybe I’m just trying to be happy for her still. Happy for Papa still. Maybe I’m just too busy trying to make them comfortable. I should be able to move past this point, they aren’t here anymore. They’re together and they are happy. And that makes me happy. It brings me comfort and I hold onto the hope that we will be together again. But I need to be sad too. I need to grieve, but I don’t know how.
I wrote this and took this picture three weeks ago for Brielle’s third month. I’m holding Brielle Bear (where we keep her ashes).
Brielle would be twelve weeks today. It’s hard to believe that it has already been three months. In some ways it feels like it just happened and in other ways it feels like it’s been a lifetime since I held her and kissed her little toes. David and I miss her constantly. And our lives feel…odd. We feel as if we took ten steps back. In some ways we feel completely empty and broken. And in others we feel fulfilled and happy. She brought us so much joy and love and we are so thankful for that. She brought perfect goodness into our lives and we’ll treasure that time we had with her forever. I wish there was a way to hold her still. To feel her little wiggles and give her kisses. I just want to hold her again.
I’m dealing with parental drama and I’m so done with it. It’s keeping me from grieving Brielle and I hate it. I want to talk about it, but it makes other people angry. I don’t want to hurt anyone either. I just feel like I’m trapped. I’m trying to wrap my head around what kind of people they really are and it makes me sick. Of course, they’ll tell you that they have no idea what I’m talking about.
I feel like I’m drowning. I’m having to put Brielle on the back burner as I struggle with who my parents are, suddenly becoming a caregiver, moving Bernice into our home, and dealing with David’s family drama. I love Bernice and I’m not complaining, but I never have a moment to myself. She doesn’t understand time and to her forty five minutes is a very long time. It’s made checking the FB page and keeping it updated very difficult.
I’ve been looking into other forms of dementia and I don’t think Bernice has Alzheimer’s, but another form of dementia. Her dementia is very different and I’m not sure how to help her. She doesn’t follow the typical ALZ patterns. She’s bored, and it’s been challenging for the both of us. I want her to enjoy the time she does have, but I have no idea what to do.
David’s job is a nightmare. I have quite a few choice words for his boss. In fact, there’s nothing even remotely good about him. He’s a sexist good ole boy and I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. That being said, David is miserable and beyond stressed. He told me the other night that this is the worst place he has ever worked. I hate it for him and I hate it for his coworkers who are being treated like worthless cattle. Really, there’s nothing good to say about the Atlanta office. Oh, David’s coworkers and lower management are nice, they’re also the ones who are there almost every weekend and until very late at night.
Things are just so hard right now. I just want to relax and be sad. I want to sit on the couch and just cry. I want to hold Brielle Bear and be sad that I can’t hold Brielle and touch her soft baby skin. Instead the whole world is falling around David and I. We’re tired. We just want a break.
*sigh* I’ll have a pity party for one please. I’d like a large shot of magical calorie free cookie dough, bra free months, stretchy pants, and lots of Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy, please.
