The Evolution of Me

I am not an evolved person.  I am SUPER regular (and unevolved).  I always have been.  I gossip and talk smack and like to tease the people I love (they don't always love it).  I am far, far, far, far, far from perfect.....like most people.

When Maxie died (and still today) there was (and is) a pressure to be suddenly evolved.  I felt that people looked at me, hoping that I  would be more understanding of the difficulty they had in dealing with the death of my son - afterall, it was too hard (for them).  I was expected to easily forgive people for saying words that hurt me, to understand that this death was random and that we just happened to be the unlucky ones.  I was expected to be suddenly evolved.  Our role (and perhaps this was completely imagined), was to make sure that nobody would feel bogged down by our loss, to put on a brave face, to be a perfect grieving couple - loving and supportive of each other at all times, to make something good out of Maxie's death.  This was and is a LOT of pressure.  It is not something that I have been able to live up to.  Ted does a better job than me...but it is hard for him too.

Sometimes the responses that I have to the things that happen around me are not what I want them to be and I am actually ashamed of my reactions.  I get jealous, I feel raw, I cannot handle things that I want to be able handle.  I want to be there for friends who are going through hard times - I do - and I try so hard - I promise, but then every once in a while I get jealous that my hard time is SO MUCH harder (and maybe it just FEELS so much harder because it is happening to me).  When that happens, I hate myself for feeling that way and I try to remember what our grief counselor always said, "To compare is to despair".  It is something that I will likely be repeating to myself for life.  I also want to be there for friends going through wonderful things - and then every once in a while I feel jealous of all of their hope and happiness - I remember what it was like to be embarking on a new stage of life and never thinking that it would all come crashing down.  I envy that feeling - that there would be a "happily ever after" for me.  My biggest challenge in life these days is realizing that there won't be.  

What I mean to say here is that however flawed I started - I am just as flawed (or more) today. Sure, there are pieces of me that I like better today...but not many.  I am working on transcending these feelings but I am also working on keeping my grief in check, getting through each day, being a good mother, having another child, keeping my job, losing this baby weight already!  Sometimes it all just feels like too much.  I guess what I am asking is for you to keep your expectations in check.  I cannot be the person who models  getting through personal tragedy because I am not through it.  I am still very much in it and it is hard.  Still.

At Once

There is a theme of questioning that keeps coming back, which almost sounds like an accusation, even though I don't think it is meant to be.  It's "Have you allowed yourself to really love and attach to Mo?"  It seems like a crazy question to me but I get asked this all of the time - almost always by people who've never really seen me with Mo.   I guess when people hear me crying and feeling so helpless and destroyed by Maxie's death, they assume that means I must not have enough love leftover for Mo.  I'm pretty sure that if Max were alive, nobody would ask me that question. 

I know plenty of people with more than one child, and somehow, they manage to love them all.  They can actually go through periods of being a little more worried about one child, or attending to the health of another - but nobody ever bothers to wonder whether they have enough space for all of the children.  There is no question because we know that it is biological and completely normal for a parent to love each of their children with equal passion and enthusiasm.  There is no question because we can see them loving their children equally.  If you saw me with Mo, I don't think there would be a question.  I love him completely - with my entire soul - with every cell in my body.  He acts like a child who is given boatloads of love too.  I never worry that he doesn't feel our love.

What is funny is when I really button up, when I focus all of my attention on Mo and put thoughts of Max out of my mind, I get, "Have you allowed yourself to grieve?".  As if I am somehow emotionless because I am not crying right then.  It's actually a somewhat hilarious conundrum.  If I am not sharing and crying all of the time - I am cold.....if I am sharing and crying - I am stuck. 

I know, better than most, how possible it is to be fully sad and disappointed by life and at the very same time - in the exact same moment, in fact - feel completely filled with joy.  It is hard to imagine.  I know.  I hope you never ever feel it.  But, when I cry about Max...  When I talk about how much I miss him...  When I sob over my broken heart and his beautiful life that ended much too quickly - it doesn't mean that I've forgotten the perfect, hilarious, smart, interested, lovely little boy that is his little brother.  He is the light of my life - the one I am able to give my whole heart to - the most special person in my world. 

Don't worry - Mo is loved.  Completely and thoroughly. As is Maxie.  Forever and ongoing.  To the Moon and back....and back...and back. 

Superstorm

I was watching Anderson Cooper earlier this week talking about how inappropriate he felt it was for celebrities to be throwing extravagant Halloween parties in the wake of Superstorm Sandy.  "Don't they know that the entire East Coast is without electricity?", he said...as if to say: How dare they celebrate while we are sitting here in the dark!  I am sure LOTS of people could identify with this feeling of "How can the world keep on spinning?".... and "Don't they know we are suffering?".

I couldn't help but think of the millions of people worldwide who live without electricity every single day and those who suffered MUCH MUCH greater things than a loss of power in the aftermath of Sandy.  I was feeling a little incensed myself watching a segment on the Today show (or the like) about how to entertain your family while the power is down -  examples included: play boardgames, make conversation about important issues - like the environment.  Barf.  Do people really need a superstorm to figure out how to talk to each other?  And, in my estimation - not being able to plug in your ipad is far less worrisome than having ones house under water.

There has also been this sensationalized report about the mother whose two children drowned because a neighbor wouldn't let them inside his house.  Oh my god!  It is too effing much to bear.  I feel my heart in my throat.  It's so unbelievable.  She's been too upset to comment so far.  Um, you think?  She's probably wondering how she will go on living.  I am sure she can't even imagine a reason at this stage.  I keep wondering how long it will be before someone tells her it's ok because she can have more children or that they are in a better place.  Surely, friends have already told her that they will go home and hug their own kids tighter after hearing her story (then, presumably, they will play parcheesi and talk about deforestation).

The fact is - the world DOES keep spinning even though the worst you can imagine has happened.  People will keep throwing parties and celebrating.  Pretty soon, people will probably start making the sick humored jokes about the storm and throwing "The storm is over" parties.  They will even try to convince you to join in the party, wondering out loud why you wouldn't want to raise a glass to toast the event.  The fact is that in every story, there are real live people who are suffering, who have lost unfathomably, who don't want to join the celebration..... because they just need to try and figure out how to get through the next minute of their life.