Grief is Physical

 I can handle it. I can do anything. I can persevere. I am strong. I have survived.

HEY YOU! Yeah, you. YOU ARE HUMAN. BAM! 

I can't breathe. I can't stand up straight. I can't do this. 

A simple post on Facebook as I scrolled last Tuesday, sent me crumbling to the ground. Without warning or any heads up. One second, getting ready to walk into work and the next second, tears are pouring down my face and the wind has been completely knocked out of me. It physically hurt my entire soul. What sort of post would cause this kind of pain, you ask? Throughout my son's pregnancy over 15 years ago, I found a mom group on babycenter and we called ourself the confession mommas. We shared everything with each other. Dark secrets, feelings, relationship ups and downs, pregnancy symptoms and struggles, fears, hopes, high's and lows. We talked about it all. Once our babies were born, we were tighter than ever. At that time, I lived in Pensacola, FL. A big group of mommas would fly down and we rented a beach house where we could be together and our babies could play. It was those meetups where my deepest fears and worries became a reality. My child wasn't meeting milestones AT ALL. He wasn't doing the things the other babies were doing. I could no longer relate. I didn't fit in. My son and I were no longer like the other moms and babies. I felt so alone and so scared. I KNEW something wasn't quite right. Those meetups and the shared stories hurt. They hurt so bad. I struggled with even staying in the group because it was so hard. But those women didn't let me give up. They wrapped us in their arms and support every step of the way. Our own babies weren't just our own; they were all of our babies. The mommas sent donations to the Ronald McDonald House so that I wouldn't stress over the donation to stay there during hospitalizations. They sent words of encouragement and love when my days were filled with tears. When Carter passed away, a couple of them drove from out of state to be at his funeral. They sent flowers and memorial wind chimes. But even 15 years later...it HURTS. It hurts to see where the January 2009 babies are today. It hurts to miss my c-baby with all of my being and to see what I am missing out on. And even though it is NOT anyone else's problem that their milestones are my heartbreak. Not for one second should anyone else feel anything by pride as they share these updates. In no way is anyone doing anything wrong by any means. But my heart still breaks every now and then when I scroll and see something. It doesn't happen every time. 9 times out of 10, I can handle it. But I never know when or why something will trigger my grief. On this particular day last week, it was 15th birthday posts for a couple of the babies who were born early. I am fully aware that Carter's 15th birthday is coming soon. I am fully aware that birthdays suck. I am fully aware that it's going to hurt like hell. But these posts sent me over the edge that particular morning. Thankfully, the census was low at work that day and I got staffed off. I was able to go home with my broken heart and could lick my wounds in private. But as the morning went on, my broken heart physically hurt. I could tell that my blood pressure was elevated and I just didn't feel well. I drove myself to the ER to make sure my heart wasn't going to shatter. I mean, that kind of pain has to result in certain death, right?! At least, that's how it felt. As I was getting a chest x-ray, I thought to myself, "I am sure they will be able to see the breaks in my heart. They have to. It's most certainly broken,". But the doctor didn't say anything about it. He said everything looked good, He said my blood work was okay. I don't think doctors have textbooks or courses on broken hearts though. I don't think they know what they are looking for. There's no testing for that, which still shocks me. There has to be a diagnosis for it besides grief. But they found nothing wrong with me and sent me home. Back home to sit in my pain. 

Okay. I know this all sounds dramatic and maybe it is. But unless you have lost someone who means the absolute world to you, I don't think you can quite comprehend the real physical pain of it. I grew this child within my body. I gave him life. I nurtured him for 7 years. I fought like hell to save him time and time again. I prayed for his healing over and over. I begged with the heavens to please not take him from me. And then, I watched the very life I gave him, get taken away. Over the last 7 years, one little thing to the next, I have continued to lose more and more of him. I have been robbed of outliving him like mother's should. I will never get to decorate his bedroom door the night before his birthdays and see his surprised face when he finds it in the morning. I will never have new school pictures each year. I won't watch him go to his freshman year of high school or become a teenager. I won't see him graduate or get married some day. I am left to wonder who he would be and what he would look like now. I try not to go there. I try to stay on autopilot in order to put one foot in front of the other each day. I try not to let the beautiful or the sad memories consume me. I try not to go there. But that my friends, is the reality of being human. I have bad days. Bad, ugly and excruciating days. 

I can say that the next day was better and I was stronger. And each day since last Tuesday, has been okay. The swelling of my eyes has went down. The sharp pains in my chest have slowly dissipated. I know that another day will come or another trigger will get me. But today, I am okay and can share this with you. All of this to say, please understand that grief is REAL. It is not just emotional or psychiatric. It is physical.

I truly love my confession mommas and babies. I love to see how and what they are doing. But there are days when I cannot handle it too. That's part of the grief. What was okay yesterday may not be today. Please bear with us grieving humans this holiday season and throughout the year when the loss and grief strikes us. Please listen when we need to cry or say their names. Don't try to fix it. Don't try to say something "supportive" because majority of the time, it won't help nor does it feel good for us. Simply listen. Give us a hug. 

Peace, calm & happiness

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling.  The dread and fear I felt in that moment, was debilitating.  I kept sitting up to look out the window where I could see the driveway.  Looking to see if the van was there or not.  My only means of transportation. Driven by the man who I had trusted with my life.  I had trusted him enough to have 3 children with him.  I chose a life with him. A life that had been pounded into the ground with lies and manipulation.  He had chosen a path that didn't involve that promise or what I had envisioned for my life.  He chose the streets and drugs.  Every penny we had was gone the moment it landed in our hands.  I had to hide anything of value and stash any dollar I had, somewhere unimaginable, in order for him not to find it.  This was at a time that our son was in hospice care.  Our middle child was a rambunctious 3 year old and I was 8 months pregnant.  My life was in turmoil in so many ways.  How was I going to get us out of this nightmare?  How was I going to bring another baby into this hell?  How was I going to get to and from the hospital if my son had to go?  Would I even be able to put gas in the van to make it to the hospital, if he ever came home with it?  Would another drug related guy show up at our house when I was there alone with the kids?  While driving in that van used for God-knows-what, would someone he owes money to, target me?  What had my life become.  While staring at the ceiling in dread, I remember trying to imagine where I would want to be, if I could go anywhere other than here.  What I seen wasn't a place at all.  It wasn't a big fancy house or paradise island.  It wasn't material things either.  What I imagined was peace, calm and happiness.  Anywhere would suffice as long as what I felt was those things.  If I had enough food in my kitchen to feed my children.  If I had enough gas to get where we needed to go.  If we had warm, safe beds to sleep in.  That no one who could hurt us or show up at the door trying to take things.  If that man I had thought would give me the world, would just disappear from mine.  Peace, calm and happiness is all I ever wanted.  I could fool myself for brief moments to feel it.  Those fleeting moments of imaginary joy, were what gave me hope in such a dark place.  I was determined that if something would give, I would take it.  I would run and I would run far.  I just had to figure out how to get there.  It wasn't as easy as most people would think.  It's easy from the outside to say, "just leave".  I had a terminally ill child on a ventilator, feeding tube and tons of medical supplies. I couldn't just pack a suitcase and walk away.  I needed somewhere safe to go, where he couldn't find me.  I had to have the law on my side, so that the measures needed, were taken.  I needed to go into hiding without it being kidnapping.  I needed so many things to happen.  It was October 29th, 2015 when it finally went down that way.  I was able to leave with law enforcement, CPS and a PPO to light the way.  I went into hiding and worked tons of hours with the help of family, so that I could start rebuilding our lives.  It took me one month to get us into our own apartment and with the help of a S.A.F.E fund through the hospital, I purchased my very own, new to me, van. The hardest decisions of my life had not yet happened, believe it or not.  Through all of that, I had to make decisions for my son, that broke me into a million pieces. I had to decide whether intervening every other week to put him on life support was fair or not.  I had to let him go.  I am not sure what I ever did in my life to deserve the pain and torture that I went through in that last year or two.  But whatever the reason, it was my reality.  It was up to me to choose how I would move forward. How I would keep rebuilding for my two girls.  The option to crawl into bed and feel sorry for myself, wasn't a luxury I had the time to waste.  I had to pull myself together and fight.  Peace, calm and happiness wasn't going to happen by itself.  The next 3 years, I fought like hell.  I kept a roof over our heads, food on the table and my girls had everything they needed.  The trauma and fears of our past forever imprinted on my heart.  I lived with uncertainty that I could ever trust or love another man again.  I wasn't sure that I would ever quite get to the dreams I had hoped for, for myself. 

Fast forward 3 years.  I was staring at the ceiling again.  My surroundings a bit different this time.  My vehicle safely parked inside the garage full of gas.  My girls sleeping in their beds without a worry in the world.  The man in my life, sleeping beside me.  No fears, no unknowns, no worries.  The only heavy thoughts on my mind as I lay there, were of all of the things that needed done the next morning.  Checking off my imaginary list of things I didn't want to forget come morning.  But this time, good things.  The happiest of things I ever could have ever imagined.  The next day, at 2:00 p.m. as I walked across the grass with my grandpa holding my arm, I looked up.  I looked up and caught his eyes as I inched closer.  I seen it!!!  Peace, calm and happiness.  Everything I had imagined and hoped for in those most scary times, was right there in front of me.  My girls dancing and smiling near him at the end of the aisle.  Surrounded by all of our closest friends and families as we made the ultimate promise to one another

.  Those vows meant more to me than just the solemnly swear to love, protect and cherish one another.  It was a promise of peace, calm and happiness.  I don't expect our marriage to be perfect and joyful every second of every day.  But I know with this miracle placed in my life, that we will always be safe and okay.  

The only thing that seems to make the most sense about what I went through, is that it gave me a profound appreciation for where I am today.  There is never a day that goes by that I don't still feel moments of irrational anxiety or unexplained bouts of fear.  I don't know that those things will ever go away entirely.  But as more times goes by and life remains okay, I feel a little less shaky and unsteady.  I am learning to accept the peace, calm and happiness that has found it's way into my reality!  I'm a work in progress, as we all are through the chapters of life.  But I am so thankful that I was given a second chance to write a whole new story!  I am so thankful for our solid home, my two healthy daughters, my amazing husband, our precious dog..."white picket fence" and all!  

Being a mom is messy

 "Look at the sky momma! It's beautiful!" exclaimed my 6 year old daughter on our way to Mott early this morning.  I replied, "just like you baby" and she said, "just like YOU momma, you are so beautiful".  It is THIS right here.  It is the beautiful soul of my young daughter who sees the beauty in a sunrise.  It is the words of my daughters when I feel defeated at the end of the day and they say, "you are the best mommy ever".  It reminds me that even in a tough day, there is sunshine.  My beautiful, sweet, loving daughters.  Even when I feel like I have failed them with my short fuse and frustrations throughout the day and they still think I am the best mom in the world.  They see the strong, fun, loving mom that I only wish I could be 50x better at.  I make them a simple dinner of chicken strips in the air fryer and Kraft Mac & cheese and they smile and say "thank you for making us such a great dinner mom".  Now don't get me wrong; not every moment is sunshine and rainbows with my girls.  They are not always grateful and sweet.  They have their moments when I spend an hour cooking dinner to have them say "ugh, I don't like that" and I want to scream.  They bicker and tattle throughout the day as I am trying to juggle my work from home job,  clean the never ending crumbs off the counter, or give them the warning face as they try to ask for their millionth snack of the day and I am on the phone with a patient.  But just when I feel like a total failure, they thank me.

This is also the journey of a grieving mother.  Most mornings, I have to take a deep breath, throw on my armor and give myself the little pep talk "you can do this" as I climb out of bed each morning.  I don't say it out loud or vocalize just how hard it is. Very rarely will you see me cry.  I don't have time to fall to pieces.  It could take years to put those pieces back together and mom's don't get bereavement time as needed.  So I take my moment each morning, sometimes while washing my hair in the shower.  It's easier to rinse away the tears that way.  I glance at his photos around the house each time I pass them and I feel my heart skip a beat.  That broken tik Tok, tick Tok, tik Tok that no one can hear.  On our family trip last week as we kayaked Pictured Rocks, Nola said, "look at the butterfly mom! Do you think it's Carter?"  Yes baby, I do.  I believe he's always close by.  I believe he's cheering me on from the sidelines as I navigate this thing called life.  I am constantly battling the guilt of living.  Of living while he is not.  I battle my inner demons and the choices I had to make to let him go.  But I can still see him in my daughters' eyes.  I can hear his voice when they ask about him or say his name.  Every time they ask to go visit him, I know he's whispering hello.  

Just when I feel like everything is wrong, the beauty behind the eyes of my children reminds me that it's not.  They remind me that I'm doing alright and that I'm momming them just right.  Being a mom is messy but so beautiful. Take it from the broken hearted and tired momma whose children thinks she's still perfect.

Church

 I believe that there is only ONE church.  Before you read that and instantly think I am crazy, let me explain.  I have never been a person that I would call religious nor have I spent more than a hand full of times inside of a church.  I wasn't raised religious.  For each of us, our life is our church.  Life is what sculpts us and defines us until that final day.  Every person's life is different. Our suffering, our happiness, our homes, our choices, our food preferences, the ways we choose to raise our children, the friendships we make and keep, the trips we take, the careers we choose.  For each and every one of us, that is our individual church.  No church looks the same nor does it sing the same hymns.  But the lessons we learn and how we choose to proceed forward in our lives, is what our own church preaches.  We should not judge others for the way they conduct their own

.  We shouldn't be as narrow minded as to think that there is only one perfect congregation, because for our own, it absolutely is.  As long as the life you live is one that makes you happy, healthy and proud, your church is perfect.  

There are moments in every persons life that they can pinpoint that were self defining moments.  Something that happened in their life that is engrained in their very soul. A piece of their history that has defined important aspects of their life.  These moments are our church.  I, myself, have had so many of those moments.  Some so dark that most people wonder how I am still moving forward with a smile on my face.  They wonder how I can talk about my son without tears.  They wonder how I could ever trust another relationship.  They wonder how I can find the positive in the hardships without resentment and animosity.  My answer is always the same.  Because I have no choice.  I DID have the choice in how I moved forward though.  I could choose to be a miserable, angry person or I could choose to find the light.  There is always light.  Today's sorrows will not always be tomorrows anguish.  Tomorrow can be what we choose for it to be because it hasn't happened yet.  We cannot change the past.  I consciously choose to wake up each day and be thankful that I did.  I look around and have so much to be thankful for.  I am thankful for the 7 years that I was gifted with my son.  I am thankful for my two healthy, happy daughters.  I am thankful for the wonderful man who found us along the way.  I am thankful for my family and friends. I am thankful for my job and all that it has brought into my life.  My church.  Walls are not what build us.  What builds us, is our story; our own bibles, if you will.  

Days go by

I can see the mile marker ahead of me as I start out on my run and it seems too far away.  My mind is trying to tell me before I even begin that it's just too far and it's just too hard.  I consciously set myself up for believing that it's more than I can do.  Then I internally slap myself and say "COME ON! You've got this". One foot in front of the other and I watch the finish line get closer and closer.  I feel my confidence growing as I watch the distance pass.  Then as I hit my goal, I feel myself rejoice in success.  And then I remind myself the next time, that I made it before and I can do it again. This is the story of my life.  Then I have lags in my life when I also let myself lean heavily on the idea that there's always tomorrow. I can just work at it later.  I have time.  Days go by and I don't push to be my best self.  I let the overwhelm take over when things just seem too hard.  There are areas of my life that I haven't given 100%.  Relationships that I didn't mend because my heart was too battered and scarred to see past the fog.  Seeing the pain and imperfections in others was too heavy and sad for me to bear.  Forgiveness too hard to face. 

In just the first 2 weeks of 2021, I lost my dad and turned 35.  As I sit here tonight and think about what this means for my life, I can't help but be reminded that life is fragile.  It goes way too fast.  I am guilty more times than I can count, of putting things off and being dependent on expecting time to wait for me.  I say I will start doing this or doing that, next week.  I will figure things out eventually.  I will stop by my dads house just to give him a hug.  I wanted to do that fish fry with him one more time. I wanted to tell him that I understand why things were hard for a really long time; that I knew he too, had his struggles with the hand dealt to him at times.  My heart still begged for more time and I hoped that I could say those words.  But instead I stayed away because it hurt so much to see him suffering and dying.  My dad was the mile marker that felt too far away to reach.  All of the years of pent up spite for the times he wasn't there.  I think back over the last 10 years and cannot wrap my mind around where it has went.  In what feels like the blink of an eye, so much has changed.  People I love come and gone.  The person of my 20's a completely different picture in my 30's.  I barely recognize the person I was then.  It's been a week since my dad's funeral and I have reunited with family who have been distant for different reasons in recent years.  I have clung to items of my dads that I never gave much thought to before.  Just as I look for Carter in all parts of my day, I find myself doing the same for my dad.  I need him more now than I ever did before or maybe it's just that I realize that time has slipped me by.  I never do New Years resolutions but this year, I want to be better at keeping promises to myself.  To focus on the moments in front of me and the tangibility of now.  I have so many things that I want to happen in my life still.  Things that are either in or out of my control.  I have spent a lot of time hoping and wishing more than living and learning.  

All of this to say, I think we all just need to grab our goals by the horns and DO IT.  Don't wait for tomorrow.  Forgive that person, more so for yourself because I can tell you right now, it is YOU who hurts the most by not doing it. Plan that vacation and GO.  Do that fish fry.  Tell the people you love that you love them even if the timing isn't right, even if it makes it awkward.  I guarantee you won't regret it later.  Drop in and hug your parents for no reason except to feel their embrace and see the smile on their face.  Know that life is going to change whether you are ready for it or not.  Time is unrelenting, irrevocable, and ever changing.  Don't waste it or take it for granted.  We only get one chance at this thing called life.  Treat it as your most valuable possession because it IS.  Make it worth every second and live every day as if it is your last because for all you know, it could be.

I love you dad. RIH 1959-2021

Thin Blue Line

17 months ago, I received a phone call in the middle of the night that would change our lives. Only a few hours earlier, we were singing Happy Birthday and blowing out candles.  It was a night just like any other.  But little did we know that that night would take a life changing turn.  He spent the last 21 years protecting our community and putting in thousands of hard worked hours.  His only wish each shift was to come home safe each morning, just like anyone else.  His life has been to protect and serve.  He is known to be calm and collected at all times.  He is known to his brothers and sisters in blue as "Rock" because he is so tough.  As much as he's known for being tough, he is also fair and solid.  Three years ago, he made a choice to add my girls and I to his life.  He chose to wrap us in his arms of safety and calm.  He has taken on the role as a father to my 2 daughters.  When his duties are done at work, he comes home and takes up duty as a protective dad and partner.  17 months ago, our world was shaken.  At approximately 11:07 p.m. on April 17th, 2019, I was woken out of sleep to my phone ringing.  As I squinted to see the screen and realized it was the hospital number, I already knew.  I instantly knew that something was wrong.  The doctor on the other end told me that Kirk Carter had been in a trauma.  She proceeded to tell me that he had been shot twice.  This man who always told me "there's nothing to worry about" each day that he left for work, had been shot.  This man who always smiled and reassured me that everything would be okay, was not.  When the doctor told me he had been shot in his upper leg and hand, the only relief was because I knew he would survive his injuries.  But my heart broke because I also knew that this would change his life.  His goals now on hold.  The normal we had embraced only hours earlier celebrating his 46th birthday and my words to him before he left, "you shouldn't work on your birthday", echoing in my mind.  I needed to get to him.  I needed to see him and touch him.  I needed to know that he was okay. When the officer who drove me to the hospital that night, finally arrived, all I remember is running.  I ran through the back doors of the ambulance bay and asked "where is he?"  I ran to the trauma room where the love of my life lay on a gurney.  He was pale but his face was calm.  His first words to me were, "I'm 100%".  Moments later, the doctor came in and showed us the x-ray of his femur.  It was shattered.  Over the next 5 days, he endured 2 surgeries. One to put a metal rod in his right femur and another to put pins in his shattered wrist.  The newspaper released a statement saying that his injuries were non-life threatening, but they fail to say that they are life changing.  17 months of physical therapy, surgeries, a wheelchair, walker, cane, appointments, pain, blood clots.  The behind the scenes aftermath that this incident has caused.  

Over time, I learned more details about what had happened that night.  Kirk was assisting on a domestic call and was the one who happened to walk into the room where a man was hiding in a closet.  That man opened fire on him.  Without hesitation, his brothers and sisters in blue held the line from there in the face of chaos.  The officers who were on that call and ran into the crossfire, the officer and explorer who ran into the house only minutes after the shootout to pull Kirk down a flight of stairs, applied a tourniquet and pulled him out of the house so that he could get to the hospital, to the officers from all around the county who rushed to get there; I am forever grateful.  To this day, it is still very hard for me to imagine those moments.  This man that I love, almost taken from me.  He was there to protect and serve, as always.  A job that has the risk of unknown factors every minute of every single day.  Kirk is the epitome of the thin blue line.  He separates the good from the bad while creating order from chaos.  He is brave, strong and endlessly positive, despite the challenges that the chaotic bad of his career has inflicted on him.  He has yet to go back to active road patrol still but he hopes to eventually.  As a spouse, I am terrified for those days ahead.  But I am also supportive of anything he wants to do.  He has worked so hard to get back what was taken from him.  I am one of the fortunate ones who can stand here today and say that he is still with us.  There are so many spouses, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers who cannot.  I pray every single day for all of the law enforcement officers, their families, and their brothers and sisters in blue, that they too make it home from their shifts every day.

Remarkable Woman of the Year

Over a month ago, I received a phone call from the Milwaukee Channel 6 news.  The general manager told me that I had been nominated for Remarkable Woman of the Year and was in their top 4 picks.  I was completely blown away and immeasurably honored.  But my first thought was, do I really deserve this?  Do I belong in this top 4?  For as long as I can remember, I have always been my own harshest critic.  My mom nominated me and wrote about all of my trials and tribulations and they thought I was worthy of top 4.  My next thought was, there is no such thing as a remarkable woman without remarkable friends and family.  I have had an army of support through all of this.  People that  have lifted me up when I wasn't sure my legs could withstand the weight of my life.  They were the shoulders when I needed to unload mine for a while.  They rallied when my son was sick and times were bleak.  They didn't give up on me when I was in a terrifying marriage of narcissism and drug addiction.  They helped me rebuild my life when I lost everything in that divorce.  They protected me and my children when I was in hiding and trying to rebuild my life.  They offered me solace when I needed time to figure it all out. They helped with my children when I went back to college.They helped me organize the benefits that meant so much to me.  Benefits that meant so much to me because they meant hope when I was told that there was none for my son.  These are the people who have believed in me even when I wasn't sure I could get through it all.  All of the things that I have done for my son, my girls, the fundraising, walkathons and helping my boyfriend recover from his injuries, I did without ever needing recognition.  I did it all in the face of love.  All of these people in my life are the ones who deserve to stand beside me in an honor like this.

When I got this phone call, I called my mom first.  We both cried as we realized that this news station read my story and felt that I was remarkable enough to be in that top 4.  They told me I would hear from them soon to do an interview since they would be airing the top 4 in February and the winner would be flown to New York to be on the Mel Robbins Show.  I can't even describe the feelings I have had since getting that call.  I only told closest family and friends because a part of me still couldn't believe that this was true.  And another part of me had a feeling that nothing would ever come of it.  I was okay with both, because I already felt it was such an honor to have been thought of as top 4 in the things they looked for in this contest.  Yesterday morning, I received an email from the special projects producer saying that they didn't realize I lived outside of Milwaukee and due to residency requirements, I am unable to be named as a finalist in the contest.  I read the email over and over.  I am not sure how this mistake happened, but it did.  Apparently, each state has its own local channel 6 news that chose their own top 4 local women.  Somehow my nomination was sent to the wrong one.  As much as I want to cry and feel sad about this, I also keep telling myself that I don't need this recognition to know that I am remarkable.  All I have to do is look around and count my blessings.  I have come out on the other end of darkness into a beautiful life full of so many things to be proud of. I survived things that are meant to break a person.  I would be lying if I said I haven't cried since getting that email.  But today, I am just doing my best to look forward and to be proud of all the other women who have gotten that same phone call and look forward to hearing their stories too.