Not a good night....

Last night I had a bad dream...well part was real and part dream. Tim was, I guess, snoring but when he did, it sounded like "mom....mom" kind of drawn out, though. So I guess I incorporated that into my dream. I saw Amanda there in a room and she is dying and is scared but is too drugged to do anything or even speak, but I hear her thoughts crying out to me for help. I know it comes from my fears that she knew what was happening to her but couldn't do anything to get our help. I fear her having been scared and alone and wanting her mom and dad. It was my job to protect her.

So also last night's group brought out something for which I have lived with regret over since Amanda was four. When I was pregnant with her, for multiple reasons I won't go into, I thought about  giving her up for adoption. I was not "fine" with it, but tried to convince myself it would be best for her. Long story short, she did go home with another couple for a day and a half but I was absolutely beside myself. I fully loved her and wanted to be the one taking care of her and was willing to do whatever it took, sacrifice whatever I had to of myself, to be able to raise her. Longer story short, I got her back and never, ever regretted it. However, I had had her birth recorded along with her baby dedication, etc. as I believed I would never get the chance to see my baby girl again after that day. However, on that tape is the adoptive father and mother holding her calling her by another name and saying, "this is your daddy/mommy." When Amanda was little, she used to LOVE to watch the "baby Amanda being borned beedoe" and I would always stop it before it got to anything showing the other couple...until this one day when I was busy doing something in the other room. I remember her asking me who this man and lady were and why did they call her Erica and why did they say they were her mommy or daddy. God help me, I wish I would have lied. That single event set in motion Amanda's lifetime of not feeling good enough or loved. No matter how much counseling we got to talk about it, no matter reinforcing that I loved her too much to let her stay gone from me and that I got her back because I wanted to be her mommy, her 4-year-old heart only heard and internalized that I didn't love her, I didn't want her, and I gave her away. That single event fueled her self-loathing and feeling that she wasn't enough, which in turn lead to her drug abuse and death. So you see, I will always feel responsible for her death, always.

So last night was a big ugly cry after the meeting when I was alone. I'm sorrier than I have ever been about anything, Amanda. I wish I had played it off like it was a joke or been quick thinking to come up with ANYTHING, but I was so upset at the time that I'd not been paying attention to what point the movie was getting to and just kind of in panicked shock, that I tried to tell her the truth in a way that I thought she might understand as a child but she was way too young to have received that. Even years later in counseling, it was my four year old's heart I heard, and I'm eternally sorry.

Tonight I was exhausted physically, mentally and especially emotionally. I hoped to sleep in tomorrow but Dad wants us to go take care of some banking business in Sherman in the morning. I was trying to sleep but thoughts of Amanda and the dream lead to me thinking about her ashes in the closet in the temporary urn, which lead me to thinking about the owl urn we want made (or for Tim to make). This lead to images flashing in my mind of Amanda on an autopsy table which then went to thoughts of her cremation. The thoughts of her autopsy and cremation and what her poor body went through rocks me to the core. It doesn't matter that "she" wasn't present anymore; that was still the body of my baby. You know the worst thing they put on her cremation certificate? The start and stop times. The length of time my baby was in the fire sickens me and gives me shudders. So again tonight, the tears flow. Tears for the damage I did to her heart. Tears because she's not here and I miss her more than words are adequate for. Tears because it's almost been six months and she should be turning 20 in four months and finally free of those difficult teen years. Tears because we will never be the same without her here. I feel like I've had the wind knocked out of me. Tim heard me crying and came in and held me and cried with me. Why did she have to go over there? Why? Why do Ryan and Erica get to go about their lives and I have to cling to Amanda's Baby Bop and cry?

Looooooooonnnnngggggg day!

Today was one long [emphasis required] day. Dad had an eye doctor appointment and didn't get home til about 11:15. Right before he came home, Tim called saying he'd left the GPS in my car and needed it for his meeting. At first, I told Tim I couldn't bring it to him as Dad wasn't home but immediately called him back and said I could. So I race out the door and to Durant to get that to him, turn right around and come home. 

I told Dad Ann had been having trouble with the congestion and I was a little concerned about it. He called the home health agency to make sure someone was coming out; they were. I hopped in the shower and hadn't been out too long when the nurse showed up. I grabbed the monitor so I could hear everything going on in the room and how Ann was responding, etc. Other than saying "hi," Ann was basically non-responsive. So she called the ambulance. They got her loaded up and away Dad and I went. I had messaged Tim before we left to let him know what was going on. Tim eventually met us at the hospital when he got back from his meeting in Ada.

At the hospital they kept having to suction her out as she couldn't cough up the phlegm. The CXR, though, was negative. Her UA was terrible. They held up the vial of her urine and there was tons of sediment in it. When we got the results back of that, they said she did, in fact, have a pretty serious UTI. Still, her primary doctor wanted her to have a CT of the head due to her mental status changes (which were because of the UTI), which came back unchanged from prior. Thankfully, she was admitted and finally put in a regular room. She is going to be monitored via webcam and suctioned, have her vitals checked every four hours and is maybe going to have a feeding tube done tomorrow. Dad has to be back up at the hospital by 9 a.m. 

While we were in the hospital I saw something that said the date as being the 12th, and it hit me that although I'd thought of Amanda all day yesterday, it hadn't clicked that yesterday was 5 months since she passed. How could I not have realized it? And what's worse, is last month it happened the same way. I didn't realize it until the 12th. I felt like a horrible mom and in part, I'm still kicking myself, but I think in pondering it further, it's not that I'm "forgetting" about her death at all; it's that I'm trying to focus more on her life. 

Still, with that being said, when the nursing assistant was wheeling Ann off the elevator of the 2nd floor, Tim and I both realized instantly that if we turned left, we'd be right next to the waiting room we spent so much time in with friends on that day/evening five months ago. I felt like I was going to panic. I just kept thinking, "Please don't go that way. Please don't go that way." They didn't. However, as we were waiting in her room for the charge nurse to come to paperwork with Dad, I slipped out and felt compelled to go down that hallway again, to see it, to look into the waiting rooms, to go back. I saw myself crumpled in a heap on the floor in front of the row of chairs in the waiting room just screaming out her name. I remember the neurologist and his team coming in right then and touching my shoulder as they had to talk to us about her chances of survival, etc. I remember looking around at each face in the room and wishing someone could tell me it was a dream, that they were wrong, that my baby wasn't dead, that this was just a mistake, but knowing in my heart that it was all as the doctors said it was. I felt like I had to go back there and sort of face it again for myself. I still hate being in that hospital, though. 

So Ann is settled in, in her hospital room and we are all back home now. I'm praying that this will lead to the nursing home placement, but what I would be ashamed for my dad to know, I kept praying for Jesus to just take her home. This is not living. She has zero quality of life. She would be mortified to know the stuff that comes out of her mouth. Why does she have to suffer? Why can't she just go home? Peacefully, in her sleep, not sitting in a hospital room choking on her own phlegm because she can't cough hard enough to get it out and doesn't understand what it means to spit it out, so just swallows it and on and on the cycle goes. It was so hard to see her struggling like that. They had to suction her so many times today/night. I don't mean to question God; I just don't understand what the purpose is in keeping her here. Dad's miserable. She's miserable and has no real life. The whole situation is just a mess. All day I just kept sending up a silent prayer: Jesus, please just take her quickly. So we will see what happens in the a.m. Dad has to meet with Dr. Jaiswal at the hospital. I have to go to work. I'm ready for a break. This day off was anything BUT.

While at the hospital, I was holding Amanda's class ring and looking at it. I've worn it on a chain around my neck since she passed. I noticed that some of the black lettering was kinda coming off/out. I knew I was going to have to take it off and put it up. This really upset me. I've already had to take off and put up the owl earrings made for me as I wore them til earlier this month and noticed that they'd turned colors. I put up the owl bracelet that the same girl made me as the owl kept falling off and I didn't want to lose another one (replaced it once). The bracelet that had been Amanda's that she made, I'd been wearing also, and I noticed I got paint on it the other day, so not wanting that ruined further, I put that up. The bracelet she had bought me with the multiple pastel-colored hearts has one area that keeps catching on clothes, etc., and I didn't want that to break and me not notice and lose it, so I put that up. I want SOMETHING that is a constant reminder of Amanda's life, of her, of my beautiful baby girl, that I can wear, that I won't ruin or break or lose, and not have to put up. Even her Baby Bop I put back up on the shelf next to her urn as I'm so afraid of her getting messed up. I mean, she's like 17 years old! It just makes me sad. I feel like little by little, these little reminders are being "taken away," and I don't like it. I know that I will always have my memories; I know that, but having something visible is important to me. I miss her so very much.

First Mother's Day

So, today was Mother's Day. I have to say that I was sadder about it prior to it being here, than I felt today. Today I got to sleep in. I woke to find I'd missed a call from Michael and I had 3 texts from him. In the days previous, I'd gotten 2 cards from friends just thinking of me and a few texts today and yesterday, too. I have to say, though, that I grilled Tim about whether he'd texted, emailed, or called Mike to make sure he called or texted me, and he swears he didn't. This, above all things, made me the happiest. I don't care if he just found out TODAY that it's Mother's Day; he took the time to call me. I'm tearing up just thinking about it again. It means so much to me. 

I spent some time outside today with Tim painting one side and back of the house, and then Tim and Dad did some mowing (you hear those angels singing?? I do!) in our hideous backyard. I was literally afraid walking through the backyard to do the painting prior to it being mowed. I mean, you just don't know where those slithering serpents are hiding, and I'm NOT a fan. When I was up on the ladder painting, I kept hearing "Welcome to the Jungle." It did me good, though, to be doing something outside, something (sorta) creative. 

I did spend some time just reflecting on being a mom. On years past. On when my kids were little and Michael would make goofy faces and dance or make silly sounds just to make Amanda laugh. I was thinking about how Amanda used to have that giant yellow fish rocker thing, and Mike would climb on the top of it while Amanda sat in the seat, and she would just laugh and laugh while they rocked. 

I thought about the bad times, too. I'm not in denial about the bad times. There were many, many ups and downs with her bipolar and both of our stubborn streaks (and mouths), but I also know she knew we would always have her back. She knew she was loved, and it's the love that I concentrate on. I thought about the days when she was little and I would dance with her around the living room to Amy Grant's song, "Lucky One." She would throw her head back and just cackle.  I thought about when we lived on base at Seymour Johnson and I could walk Michael to kindergarten. I would have Amanda in the umbrella stroller and I loved being able to walk him there and be there waiting when he got out to walk him home. While we are in the midst of our kids' childhoods, especially in the more challenging times, it seems like they are dragging on forever, but they go by so quickly and you only have this little window to speak into their lives, to spend time with them, be involved, and show them how much you love them.  I wish I could replay every second. 

Earlier I had tried to send Mike some videos that I'd gotten from Amanda's phone, but they were too big, so I had to post them to Facebook and tag him in them. She was so silly. She was random and funny. She had a mouth on her, but I did too at her age (and still can if I don't watch it). I loved hearing her sing, but even more I loved hearing her laugh and seeing how alive she was. She was just this bundle of energy (when she was up and about -- otherwise, her favorite thing to do was sleep haha). She had this quick sense of humor. 

Anyway, I'm very thankful that I didn't spend the day in the dumps. I'm so thankful that Michael took the time to call me and for the sweet messages he sent me about being the best Momma a guy could ask for. I'm thankful I got to be outside working with my hands. I'm thankful Tim stayed home from church with me since I had to be home so Dad could go to church. I'm thankful it was a better day than I anticipated it being.

A Gift

I had to get this dream down really quick before I forget any of it:

Instead of Amanda being cremated, as she was, in my dream she's going to be buried. I have one last chance to go in and spend time with her before they seal up the casket. I'm by myself and walk up to her casket. I'm crying and heartbroken. She looks so beautiful and peaceful lying there. I don't remember if I notice what she's wearing; I just concentrate on her face, her hair, her hands so soft. I remember just weeping over her and telling her how much I love her, how much I'm going to miss her, and how I wish I could just hold her one last time, to look into her eyes and tell her how much I love her and how sorry I am for not being there to prevent this.

Suddenly, her eyes open and I'm looking around thinking, SHE'S NOT DEAD! DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THIS?  And she speaks to me and tells me that no one else can see it; it's a gift just for me. She tells me how much she loves us, how sorry she is that this happened, and how she will miss us, too. She keeps telling me not to cry and wipes my tears. She pulls me to her and I get to hold her one last time. It felt so incredibly good to hold her, to hear her voice, to see my baby's eyes looking into mine. I remember, though, upon reflection, this peace that emanated from her when I was holding her. 

I think I was given a gift last night. Thank you, Jesus, for letting me hold my baby girl even while you are holding her.

I am really having such a hard time with Mother's Day. It's hard to hear all of these Hallmark commercials..."Hallmark, the heart of Mother's Day."  I am still a mom...just broken. I hope Michael at least calls me on Sunday. I love my children so much. Thank you, God, for the privilege of being their Mom.

A little nervous

Tomorrow is the first meeting for Grief Care. I'm apprehensive about it. Not about talking to strangers; I can do that. It's that I know it will be like ripping a wound open for everyone to gape at. But I have to think of it in medical terms...it's not a healing wound that is there...it's still got infection and stuff that needs to be cleaned out, so this opening is for the healing to take place, so I know it's a good thing, but the process won't be much fun. I also have to remember that while everyone may be gaping at my wound, they will have one of their own, as well.

After work I got Amanda's phone out as I wanted to see if I could transfer her pictures to my phone; I transferred almost 50, including a few videos.  Looking through her pictures and videos was comforting and broke my heart. I loved seeing her silly faces and hear her laugh, but it was a painful reminder (like I need one) that she's not here. I am so thankful, though, that I do have those videos that I can still listen to her voice and hear her laugh. There were two videos from her birthday, one I wasn't in but in the kitchen, and the other one where we were both singing happy birthday to her and dancing in a silly way. Everything seemed good then. She was on the mend from her surgery after her accident. We'd gone to Sherman for a Chinese buffet that she loved, and Tim had bought a song and video on iTunes by Shane and Shane that I'd shown him the day before that reminded me of his and Amanda's relationship called The One You Need. She had sat down at my computer and we watched the video together, just rubbing her shoulders and loving on her. I remember we were all crying and telling her how much we love her and she, us. It was a special, loving time that I treasure.

Tim and I started painting the outside of Dad's house this past weekend (Saturday). We had to match the garage, so it's a sort of peachy/apricot color and white for the trim. Unfortunately, we no longer like the color of the shutters that we bought so will have to either paint them white or buy new ones. I've enjoyed the work.  We worked after work yesterday and today painting. Yesterday we did the white trim, 2 coats, and today did a third coat of the white trim and painted the metal ornamental support thingies. That really helped them. They went from being this yucky, blah brown to white, and it helped them stand out instead of blending into oblivion. Of course, we have to do more coats to make it look great, but it already made quite a difference.

Tim had talked to Michelle on Sunday, which apparently she didn't take too well, and so then she went and talked to Dewey about it all, and he asked her the same thing Tim did, and that was if she's ever been diagnosed as being bipolar. That REALLY didn't go over well with her. But anyway, the last 2 days at work have been so nice! I've gotten to do the work I needed to and Tim and I have been able to talk. I did offer to move my work station to the room behind his office so that he could feel free to have the students come in and visit with him, and I could still be able to do my work and have my space/privacy. We may do that next week or at least over the summer sometime.  We did see Michelle come down the hill across the street while we were sitting outside eating our lunch. She went to the Southeastern Police Station, but we went back inside before she came out.

Anyway, I need to go do some research for the group, finding some websites, etc., for the group.

Overwhelmed, needing to be a little selfish and feeling like a jerk..but a very lonely one who misses her husband

I have this overwhelming sadness. Overwhelmed period pretty much describes me. Mother's Day is coming. I had to deactivate my Facebook for now. I can't bear to see all of the messages or pictures and posts about wonderful family gatherings and gifts. Not that that day has ever really been a big deal to my kids but I always wanted it to be.  I wanted them to want to get a card for me that Tim didn't either suggest or buy and ask them to sign. I wanted them to want to do something special for me that they thought of.  I guess that's just me and my Norman Rockwell fantasy life imaginings again. 

I'm also having a hard time still with Michelle from the Wesley.  I feel like she has just invaded everything.  Work was my safe haven where I could just work and try not to think about Amanda or my parents but just work and now everytime I turn around, here's Michelle.  Now Tim has nooo problem whatsoever.  She helps him with youth , because of his history of having been abused, he wants to save everyone. That's just who he is. My problem is with the quantity of time she is with us and I feel like I have to share Tim constantly. Mondays she shows up at the Wesley; Tuesdays same thing and goes with Tim to Caddo for the afterschool program; Wednesday same plus goes to the nursing home with him and later to youth; Thursdays, she's back. Friday and Saturday I actually get sans Michelle, but Sunday she is with Tim at church early, Tim wants to take her with us out to eat or whatever, then she's with him for youth and later at the Wesley. She is extremely needy and is constantly up and down, crying and lashing out in stupid ways and getting into trouble. Then she's wanting advice repeatedly but doesn't take it and then comes back crying. I CAN'T DEAL WITH HER!!!! I feel like I'm dealing with Amanda's bipolar all over again,which I gladly would if it were Amanda, but instead I'm trying to mourn my daughter, try and figure out how to go forward, while living with my folks and deal with Ann's diseases and be here for dad. My emotional tank is running on fumes most days and I feel like everything to do with my interactions with Michelle, for me, are life-taking and not life-giving.

I say all that to say that I truly do not know what to do. At this time in my life, I need my husband more than ever, and I feel like I have less of him than ever. On top of that, I mean he's a pastor, so he's going to be there for her and she does help him a lot. I just really don't know what to do. Even work for me now is a source of stress...I need one drama-free/stress-free zone, and I no longer have it. So I did take one step last night and tried to temporarily block her on FB, but apparently if you block someone you're friends with, it automatically unfriends them. Whoops. So for now, with Mother's Day coming and I know I'm already going to be emotional, I've just deactivated my FB account.  I just need some peace, somehow, some way.

A message

Last night before falling asleep, I begged God for Amanda to visit me in my dreams. Well, that didn't exactly work out in the way I had hoped it would, but I got the message all the same. 

A few years ago my best friend, Peggy passed away. In my dream, I had been visiting with her at her home and just laughing and carrying on like we used to. It was one of those dreams that seemed like it was lasting a long time, but I woke up a few times in it and upon going back to sleep, went right back into the dream. Anyway, I guess it was supposed to be the next day, I had gone to the transcription dept. at Physicians East and they said, "did you hear? Peggy died." I was like "no she didn't; I was just visiting with her yesterday." So I ran back over to her house and there she was laying on her couch and I knocked and she waved me in. I remember feeling frantic and said, "they told me you died!" to which she responded, "I'm not dead; I'm right here!" But the truth was, she HAD really passed.

The message I got from that was pertaining to Amanda...and she was saying, "I'm not dead; I'm right here!" She is still as present with us as she was in the physical sense and she IS alive in Christ.

In thinking about the dream this morning, I couldn't help but recognize the parallels to what happened with Amanda. I had spent the day before she passed with her and then I get told she is gone and I'm in disbelief because I had JUST seen her, just spent time with her. Then I rush to see her for myself, and the truth is that she's not dead in the way nonbelievers might think, but IS alive, just not here with me in the physical like before, but still present.

While I was disappointed a little to not have had Amanda come to me in my dreams the way I had hoped, I feel like she still got her message across loud and clear, and I am thankful to have heard.