Should have

Yesterday was a really tough day.  It was one of those days where everything just compounds on top of one thing after another and you are left to sitting on your couch watching a movie from 2008 on Netflix drinking a store-bought mocha frappuccino your daughter brought home for you, after having received random texts from people throughout the day feeling the urge to check-in, and then someone randomly shows up at your door with an alcoholic beverage and to talk as if it was all organized from beyond to say, "you are not alone, we got you, we are here".  To be honest, the support is amazing, the support is definitely warranted, but the fact that it is needed is just so challenging for me to have to accept.  I think I cried more yesterday than I have in the past 5 weeks, I guess it was needed, I just wish when the tears stopped so would all the pain and thoughts so that the tears wouldn't have to start back up again.  I know that won't be the case, I cannot shake the thoughts so I might as well, for now, tolerate the tears.

One of the seven stages of grief happens to involve pain and guilt.  Apparently, it's part of the normal process and occurs as the shock wears off.  I wish I could have seen it coming, maybe I should have done a quick google search to prepare myself, but instead, I spent the day feeling such an immense amount of guilt, that google was unnecessary.  Whether it be rational or not, it doesn't change that I cannot push the thoughts away.  I feel like a complete failure over the fact that my parenting clearly was not good enough to keep Sonzee alive, and in addition, her siblings suffered without having as active of a mom as I wish I could have been for close to 5 years because I was the primary parent for Sonzee's needs.  So in the end, Sonzee died and I failed them and missed out on so much and for what? 

Everything with her health required my advocacy, I wish I had been a better advocate?  I should have demanded we take her off TPN when I was unsettled in August.  I should have been as adamant as I was about her entering into hospice for her last days all those other times I felt that I needed to humor everyone else.  I shouldn't have allowed her to be subjected to every potential remedy that I knew would result in nothing beneficial and just said "No!" That was my job!  I am the one who knew her best!  I am the one who knew when she started to decline.  I am the one who listened to what she wasn't saying...but I wasn't the one who was able to save her.  I cannot figure out how to balance "what I did do for her" with what I ultimately couldn't do for her.  Anything positive seems so insignificant and meaningless compared to the fact that she is gone, forever, and whatever I might have been able to do is no longer a matter of discussion.  I should have been able to do more. 


 

Anticipation

Last Thursday I wrote a message to one of Sonzee's doctors after we had finished the last of two important appointments we had last week.  Every time my hospital app sent me a notification I was hoping it was her, but each time it was not.  I don't know what kept me from sending her a follow up message to check if she received the first one, but I just did not.  Maybe it was that I knew she would be handling things behind the scenes and eventually get back to me, or maybe it was because I didn't really want to hear what she was going to say.  Either way I let things go.

This morning Sam handed me the phone and it was Sonzee's doctor's nurse.  I knew it was her before she told me it was her just by her voice when she said "hello".  I listened to everything she said but despite my participation in the conversation my mind was 100 miles away attempting to process everything that is coming our way.  I do not know if it is even anything I will fully be able to process until I get to play the "hindsight" card 6 months from now.  If I let myself start to accept these feelings I immediately get sick, so I have been doing my best to just push it all away.  I honestly do not know if that is smart, and irregardless it is working less and less.

I spent half of my day yesterday either successful with my endeavor to ignore my emotions and the other half warding off the anxiety attacks that kept occurring.  I know change is inevitable when it comes to potentially improving Sonzee's quality of life, but the risks that accompany the potential for success are sometimes scary to justify, yet necessary to face.  If only that crystal ball could give us a sneak peak at the future and allow us a cheat at knowing how things will unfold.  I know that is not how this whole game of life works, but oh how I wish it were.

Mommy bloggers, Join me @ Top Mommy Blogs

Drifting

It is the night before the first day of camp.  My kids excitedly packed their bags as soon as they each got out of the shower before dinner.  I am used to doing this act myself, and while the Type A part of me cringed letting them throw everything haphazardly into their bags, I took a deep breath and just observed.  I couldn't keep up with their excitement as I was ensuring they each packed their own sunscreens, goggles, towels, and every other item they will need in their backpacks.  I was glancing over the "camphouse" items for Sonzee's bigger sister and trying not to think about the fact that tomorrow should be Sonzee's first day of camp as well.  I know that Sonzee was able to experience Friendship Circle camp in May, but that is not the camp experience I am mourning tonight.

I found my mind drifting off into the distance, to a life that is not mine; what I would refer to as my alter-reality.  It was there I was packing a 4th backpack with two bathing suits and two towels.  Sadly even in my fictitious reality I have no idea what backpack Sonzee would be sporting or what bathing suit style she would prefer.  I think the saddest part of this daydream is that I cannot imagine anything about who Sonzee would have been had she been the typical child we anticipated.  It almost makes me more angry that I cannot even mourn properly, because this deficiency has taken away everything that I should know about my 3 year old.  I am left simply guessing and insinuating about her personality and preferences, but the truth is, she is unable to tell me specifics so even my dreams leave me anxious about the potential disservice I am causing.

There are nights like tonight where I wish Sonzee's CDKL5 deficiency did not exist.  Where we were just a boring, typical family with no obvious outward struggles and I didn't know anything about CDKL5, childhood epilepsy, or have any significant first hand knowledge about a profound developmental disability.  While this is and always will be the path our family must travel, there is still a significant part of my mind that is traveling an imaginary parallel journey filled with the "could haves", "would haves", and "should haves".


Mommy bloggers, Join me @ Top Mommy Blogs