Monday, May 27, 2013

Shark attacks, kids and the beach

Went camping this weekend with the kiddos, dog and the parents.  Always so much fun and relaxing camping out at the beach.  Learned a few things while we were away.

1.  I can't surf.  I can't even try to surf because laying on the board waiting for the right wave makes me super motion sick and I was having flashbacks of puking in the foothills of WV and didn't want a repeat of puking in the ocean so I only gave it a few tries.  That's right people, I rode 2 waves!  I didn't get all the way up but I tried, I got up to my knees and I faceplanted into the water.  But the kids all got up and so proud of our athletic kiddos.

2.  Ashlen has a big fear of sharks.  Like didn't realize how big until we were out jumping waves, holding hands, laughing and I started singing, "Duh nuh, duh nuh, duh nuh du nuh..." and she took off for shore!  She comes by it honest though.  There were all these weird things washed on shore that looked like a ship carrying size A breast implants had capsized and they shore line was littered with these round, clear things.  The kids were picking them up bc there were no tentacles on them.  We were walking out to join Jason in the water, he was a good 15' out from us and Landon says, I thought jellyfish were pink.  I said, nah, just in the movies.  So he says, well what's that thing.  I look down, in the water, and see a pink jellyfish swimming at us.  We yelled and started running for shore and I told Jason, "Jellyfish!!"  and he screams like a little girl, "WHERE?!?"

3.  Adults shouldn't skim board.  As evidenced by Jason's skinned knee.  Which matches his other skinned knee from where I ran into him with the car door.

4.  Things aren't getting easier.  I really thought, in the back of my heart I guess, that once Mother's Day and my due date passed, that I would be "ok."  I'm not.  I'm never going to stop missing our boys.  We went to the beach Easter and I had some sad moments but it was just the impending dates and all I thought.  I went to the beach last week and there were twin boys there and it upset me.  But Sunday, sitting on the beach, feet in the water, watching Jason and the kids surfing, I saw a little toddler boy in the water, playing with his mom and I couldn't stop the tears.  It's a feeling of complete emptiness.  Of feeling like you're walking through a dark tunnel with no lights and not knowing when you're going to come to the end.  It was realizing that we were on family vacation and we were missing 2 members of our family.  That we'll never have at the beach.  We'll never take those first pics of them sitting in the sand.  Of seeing their reaction to the waves.  Jason won't have them out on a surfboard.  It's a feeling of drowning.  And forgetting how to swim.

But then A and K came walking up to me and I couldn't stop the tears.  A sat down beside me and asked if I was ok.  I told her I was just sad.  She said, ok, and sat there with me.  The kids were going to leave on Sunday morning but they decided to stay.  I'm so glad they decided to stay.  I needed them and didn't even know how badly until they were there.  I picked myself up, brushed the sand off and went out to join my family in the water.  And we had a great time that I will never forget.

There's a big lesson there.  Nothing makes this better.  Nothing makes this ok.  No words can make the hurt go away.  Sometimes you just need someone you love to sit beside you and ask if you are ok.  When you tell them you're not and they acknowledge that and don't try to make it better, it makes it better.

God has plans for me.  For my family.  I know He does.  But my heart hurts so badly, my body aches to hold my boys, that sometimes I forget that He has better days ahead for us.  But I have to remind myself that on the journey to better, I still have a pretty great now.

I'm blessed because I have a beautiful husband, I have 3 special kids and I have 2 baby boys in heaven that will always be my babies.  And when I get sad, I have some special people in my life to remind me that that's ok.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Nosy and rude, kick rocks!

Ever feel like you can't win for losing?

You post too much on facebook.

You haven't posted much lately, you feeling ok?

I can't believe you are sharing so many details of your life?

Why aren't you telling more, why you being evasive?

Blah blah blah!

I would like to say that people's comments don't bother me, but I'd be lying.  Everything bothers me right now.  Everything.  Seriously.  Everything!

The thing I appreciate about my blog and social media is the feedback I get.  I never hit "publish" without praying that my words will be heard as intended.  I never write a post that I don't pray over it.  I have never published a blog post that I havent gotten dozens of emails, texts, or comments thanking me for being candid, open, honest.

Life is hard.  For everyone it seems.  Everyone is facing something.  That is why I find it so strange that people judge me.  I know you may not understand my grief, my struggle, my journey, but for the love, stop judging.  I don't know about abusive parents, death of a parent, having to put a dog down, yada yada yada but I don't judge because you cry too long or haven't moved on in a time I'm deemed appropriate if you are facing those things. 

That's the thing about grief.  It's personal.  If it's not you who are grieving but watching someone else grieve, you've got 2 options.  Stop watching if you can't handle it or love them through it.  I can promise, if you try to get them through it on your time table because you are uncomfortable with their grief or you just don't understand, then by all means, leave them be.  The last thing they need is someone who has never been through what they are going through telling them how THEY would get through it.

The nice thing about social media is it's elective.  Choose to follow me on instagram if you want but don't gripe because I post too many pics.  Be my friend on facebook, but you should know by now, it's not all rainbows and butterflies.  And uh, it's my facebook.  I can talk about whatever I want.  If you don't want to see what I post, if I post too much for your liking, or if you are confused by what I post, find the little unfriend button and use it.  Won't hurt my feelings.  Last but not least.  If you don't like my blog, it's simple.  Don't read it.

I've tried pleasing everyone.  It doesn't work.  I've tried making other's comfortable in my grief and that just makes me angry when they judge me.  I've tried to make amends, I've tried to bite my tongue, I've tried to not ruffle any feathers and know what?  It doesn't matter. 

People either support you or they don't.  They either like it or they don't. They will complain about it but won't stop reading bc they are too nosy to not be in the know. 

It's time I start taking care of myself. My family and I appreciate your love, your prayers, your encouragement. I even appreciate your constructive criticism. 

For everyone else, delete me. Then kick rocks!  

And I mean that as lovingly as possible!  


Thursday, May 16, 2013

Seeing a man pee and Daddy issues

My life isn't boring.  Never a dull moment, that's for sure.

Had a nice lunch today with a new friend I've known for 3 years and finally got to let myself know and I really enjoy her company.  As I've posted before, I've lost some friends lately, but old friendships have been made stronger and new friendships are blooming and that makes me happy.

Had an appt with my therapist today and it's a love/hate relationship.  There is something that has been bothering me for a long time, that I hint at but never really talk about because I am trying to protect people.  But in that protection I'm giving myself a stroke.  Not even kidding.  I feel like I'm going to implode.  She asked what I normally do when something is upsetting me, I told her I blog about it or paint it out.  She asked me if I'd blogged about it and I told her no.  She asked why and I said I didn't want to hurt certain people.  She suggested I blog it out and tell them not to read it.  Duh.  That's why she gets the letters after her name.

So I'm going to blog about it.

In a minute.

K had her first cheer performance today and we rushed to get there after my appt.  We thought it started at 6 but on the way there found out it was 630 and I really had to pee so we stopped in the ghetto to go to the gas station.  I really had to pee.  Ghetto!

I walk in with Dad and Jason and Mom stays in the car.  I go to the unisex bathroom and open the door, which should be locked if occupied but it's unlocked.  And occupied.  By a man standing up to pee.  I'm staring like, uh, why didn't you lock the door, he TURNS TO ME, holding what he has to hold to pee, and just looks at me and says, "My bad!"  And is still looking at me.  I slam the door and run out and Jason's all "What do you want to drink" and I'm all "Just saw a man's manhood, I have to leave, now."  And he's all, "huh?  What?"  So I run out of the store and jump in the car.  Dad always backs into spaces.  So I run to the passenger side, climb in and tell mom I just saw a man peeing and he wasn't shy.  As I'm telling her this, the man walks out.  And into the car, right beside me.  I'm trying to hide and he's looking in the car, then he drives off, stares at me with a big ole grin on his face.

Mortified and grossed out all rolled up in a big gross memory.

Come home, take the dog for a walk, a nice couple stops and goes crazy over Coco.  Who jumps on me, twice and raises my dress, twice, to expose my spanx.  So I'm mortified and mozy on home with my adorable dog.  Only to realize as I go to unlock my front door that I have lost my mailbox key somewhere along the way.  I take the dog in, and retrace my steps with a flashlight.  I am awesome.  Finally found it in the yard of the dog loving neighbors.

So, I've been to a few therapists in my day.  When I went with my ex-husband, I tell him about myself, answer some questions, blah blah blah and he says, "So your parents are divorced huh?"  Uh, no, happily married for a billion years.  "Oh, but your dad is an alcoholic who was never there for you huh?"  Uh, no.  He's drank maybe a case of beer in my lifetime and I was and still am, Daddy's little girl.  I stumped the man.  He didn't know where my fixer tendencies come from.  This counterproductive need to please.  This making sure that everyone's taken care of, not hurting and doing ok thing came from.  He said if a normal person (not referring to me) was in a car crash, their life would flash before their eyes.  He said with me, I would worry about what it was going to do to my mom, dad, family...if something happened to me.  And that usually comes with someone with Daddy issues.

I know I'm crazy but I know I don't have Daddy issues.  Well, fast forward to Jillian Michaels and she says some things and she's talking about her Daddy issues and it hit me like a 2 ton anvil to the face, I have Brother issues.

My brother, as most older brothers, was my hero growing up.  He played football, I cheered.  He was cool, I was the annoying little sister.  We had good times growing up.  Then we moved to FL and he didn't want to move in his later high schools years, I was so ready to get out of dodge into the big beautiful land of FL.

He makes the football team, starts dating a cheerleader and gets in with a big group of friends.  I gain 1000 lbs, have braces and mall hair.  He loved life, I hated it.  I didn't fit in.  Anywhere.  He kicks the winning field goal against an unbeat team and makes the news and papers, I get bullied on a daily basis by a loser named Casey.

But I never stopped adoring my big brother.  He got less tolerant of my tantrums and outbursts and cries for attention and made me feel like a bigger loser than that nasty Casey kid.  He didn't do it verbally really, he just became indifferent to me.  I knew he didn't like me.  And that sucked.

There are a handful of times I remember in my early 20's where we hung out with his friends and I thought I was cool.  I made people laugh, I had good stories, I was a pretty awesome little sister.  So I thought.  He thought otherwise.  He started being more verbal and I started feeling more awkward.  I could never be myself because it wasn't good enough for him.  My parents would ask him how his day was and would get a "fine."  They never got the chance to ask me how my day was because I'd walk through the door sharing my newest shenanigans.  He was very independent and never asked the opinions of others, I ran every detail of everything through anyone who had a pulse.  Still do.

He met his wife and I was so excited.  I was getting a sister.  Finally.  But the honeymoon phase didn't last long.  My time spent with them had a direct correlation to my weight.  When I would lose weight, I'd get invited places with them.  When I gained weight, I had the plague.  I wish I were being dramatic but I'm not.

They bought a house, a few months later I was able to buy my first house.  They were married and always talked about giving my parents their first grandchild, as I was the ugly warted sibling who would have a houseful of cats apparently.  Then I met my ex, who had a 1.5 year old son and the proverbial poo hit the fan.  Especially when we got full custody.  I had somehow slid into first place in a game I wasn't aware I was playing.  They talked of Mom and Dad being called "Grammy and Popsey" to their non existent child and then they got pregnant.  But in that 9 month window, J out of the blue called mom and dad, Papa and TT.  And it stuck.  And that wasn't ok.

When I went through my divorce, they never called to check on me.  When they found out about my miscarriage, radio silent.  I think maybe my sister n law asked my parents occasionally how I was doing but never asked me.  My brother, in my 3 years of hell, never once asked if I was doing ok.  But they, instead, judged me the whole time.  Taking my ex husbands side of which they knew none of either story because they hadn't cared enough to ask.

When I went to KY after all the crap with my divorce, J, miscarriage, and seeing one of my best friends go through the trauma of losing her baby shorty after birth, I was messed up.  It was hard to go to their house and see them playing with their kids.  Making dinner in their house.  Going to the grocery store.  It was just hard.  I mentioned something to them about my divorce and something was said and I finally laid it out.  Did you know the man that you are supporting was addicted to porn and surfed his websites hours every day?  When he was out of work, he was using MY money to pay for these sites?  When he finally landed a job, he had an ongoing affair with his secretary?  Deer in headlights, a lot of oh my gosh's we had no idea and my goodness.  Yea, I wasn't being dramatic when I said my life kind of fell apart.  But thanks for asking.

I told my brother it was hard, just being part of his life.  Seeing his beautiful family and I was so happy for them but it just made me sad.  He waxed lyrical about him still having HIS family and he was able, even through some hard times, to appreciate the beauty of the sun shining through the trees over the horse farms and all kinds of quaalude induced speech that was way over this girl's head.  But it crushed me. I wasn't telling him he didn't deserve any of it, I was explaining how happy I was for him and I wished some day to have that.

Downhill from there.

I am a martyr.  My parents are enablers.  I am dramatic.  I am brought this all on myself.  I've always been "too much" for his taste.  Too excited, too down, too heavy, too many stories, too much laughter, too many tears.  Bottom line, he doesn't like me.  At all.

Hard pill to swallow.

Years go by, it only gets worse.  He tells my parents the only way he will have a relationship with them is if they don't mention my name.  The only way he will allow a relationship with me is if I don't speak Mom and Dad's name to him.  They were willing to try his rules in an effort to heal our family, I basically told him to screw off.  What good is a brother if I can't talk to him about our parents.

His beef is this.  During those years of my hell, he had to hear about it.  Poor thing.  What he fails to remember or acknowledge is that I lived through some of his and his wife's hell and allowed them to get through it.  Without judging them.  I stepped out of the "limelight" and let them "have" mom and dad to help them heal.  It wasn't enabling when they needed it.  Just me.

We are not allowed to speak of his past.  Only mine.  And all my missteps, all my mistakes and all my problems.  Open game.  What he fails to let himself see or admit is all that time that Mom and Dad were "enabling" me, they were also grieving.  They lost a grandson.  They lost a (crappy) son in law.  They watched their daughter drowning.  And only because they held my head above water, I am who I am today.

They came to mine and Jason's wedding for some reason.  But they don't visit, they don't call, they don't stop in Jax when they drive to Orlando.  But they came to my wedding.  I called him before the wedding and told him we needed to talk.  I didn't want to be the first time we talked in years to be after I said "I do."  He apologized to me.  Said that he should have called me and checked on me during those years.  I forgave him, I apologized for things I'd done, things I hadn't done, things he kind of demanded I apologize for, in an effort to mend our family.

They came to the wedding, acted like the goodnold times, they signed our marriage license for some reason as witnesses, I thought we were going to be ok.  And they brought me a beautiful 8x10 picture of their family for my wedding gift.

Then it got worse.  A lot worse.  They don't talk to anyone.  They ignore everyone that shares our last name.  I don't know if they see us as not good enough or what, but it's not even that that don't like us anymore.  They just don't care.  They say they care, they say they hurt but the only way they will talk of any sort of relationship is on their terms, with their rules.  Which has gotten us nowhere. 

Ive invited them to many big events over the years and they haven't come to any.  I've seen them twice in 3 years.  I have a niece I've never seen.  I wasn't invited to any baby showers.  I wasn't included in anything.  That's their choice, I can't change it so I try to accept it.  But it's still my brother.  It's still my nephews who I have always really loved so much.

When my water broke my sister n law text me.  My brother sent me a text that said he was sorry.  When Tucker died, she left me a message.  Nothing from him.  When we lost Fletcher, he sent me a text that he was sorry.  No phone calls.  Which shouldn't surprise me.  

My parents found out they had a new granddaughter through fb.  But not their fb because they have deleted all of us.  My parents received the birth announcement, 4 months later, 3 days after Tucker died.  

I've tried to mend fences with the few people that I have problems with since we lost our boys.  Some I've made great strides with.  I've tried with him, I have gotten nowhere.  He is sorry for the circumstances surrounding my pregnancy but he is going to enjoy his family.

I'm not blameless in this. I lose my temper, I lose my mind.  I text him sorry, I text him hateful things.  I can't stand to see people I love hurting.  And being ignored.  Or being made to feel like they don't matter, that they aren't good enough or that they have somehow done something unforgivable that we can't even talk about to try to fix.

But like me, my parents hurt. More than me, I know.  Because it's my brother, but it's their son.  I know this will hurt them, me blogging this.  Because I'm putting words to something that for years has been unspoken but everyone knows about.  He has every right to be hurt if something hurt him.  But to decide that he is going to make rules that WE must abide by in order to even try to have a relationship isn't only selfish but completely arrogant.

So, I have brother issues.  I married a man just like my brother.  He would gain 50 lbs and mock me for gaining 5.  He would lose his job because he got caught on the company computer with porn and make me feel like crap because I only sold 10 houses that month.  He didn't have a pot to pee in but I had a good "starter home."  My brother is the same man.  He is blameless and everyone has to play by his rules.  He can unload onto you all your sins and transgressions and mistakes but forbids you to speak of anything he has done.  Forbids.  Thats a big word.

But if I married my brother the first time around, I married my Dad the second.  I finally got it right.  I have a man who loves me.  Who sees the best in me.  Who encourages me to follow my dreams and never makes me feel stupid.

I said all that because it was becoming a cancer inside me.  It's tacky to air your familys dirty laundry but it's going to take up 10 chapters in my book so let's call this a preview. And I fear my ever growing desire to punch something will land me in jail because I have been pretending that our reality isn't this sucky reality and my anger just grows. 

I need to speak to my parents for a second, if only for me to say it out loud.  Mom, Dad, you are great parents.  You are loving people.  You are amazing grandparents.  You are selfless, you are caring, you are kind.  From your time as youth counselors, to your time spent helping coworkers through their hard times, you are both so special.  You are loved.  You are needed and you are important.  You have stood beside me and loved me through the darkest of nights.  You have celebrated with me during the best times of my life.  You matter.  To a lot of people.  Most of all, to me. But to Jason, to our kids, to so many friends, so many people you don't even know.  You have impacted the lives of many and your works will be rewarded.

I'm sorry.  I wish I could fix this.  I wish I could take this from you.  I wish things were different.  But this is a reflection of someone else's heart, not who you either of you are.  You both are beautiful, you are kind and you are loved.

We've always said we aren't waiting for any ending, but a beautiful one.  And I know, wherever this road takes me, and Jason, and our kids, you will be beside us, enjoying life with us because we love you, we need you and we appreciate you.

I think my parents are pretty fab. And to pat myself on the back a second, I am pretty fab too. Because I have the best of each of them and they are pretty awesome people!

I'm blessed. And so are they. I pray they know it and feel it. They deserve it. 

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Anxiety attacks and twins

Made it through today.  My due date.  What a hard, sucky day.  Which doesn't even really make sense to me because with twins, I know I would have had them early.  But its a day I was given in Sept that changed my world because we had what we had prayed so hard for and we knew the date we should be holding our boys.  

I spent the day at the beach.  Thought some solitude would do me well.  I enjoyed the breeze, the sounds of the ocean, the birds, the cries of babies I turned to see and saw twin boys. 

Others around me got to enjoy the sights and sounds as well.  Bawling, snotting, moaning.  

Hot mess. 

Jason and I went to dinner with Mom and Dad, had a nice time talking about nothing and everything.  Its just a situation that sucks and there's no way around it. 

I cried myself to sleep last night and woke up to texts, voicemails, emails and facebook messages from so many people.  I was truly overwhelmed.  I have good, loving, caring, people standing with me in this.  And this isn't a fun place to stand.  I appreciate every form of communication.  Every hug.  Every prayer.  Through God's grace and the love of many, I made it through a day I've been dreading since Dec 24. 

To the surprise of no one, I'm sure, I've been having anxiety attacks.  Full fledged, thinking I'm having a heart attack, attacks.  They don't come while I'm at the boy's tree.  They come 3 hours later when I'm sitting on the couch.  They don't come at the beach, seeing and hearing twin boys, they come on the drive home.  I can't breath, I can't think, I can't do much of anything other than to pray that God takes this overwhelming anxiety from me.  I can't live like this.  I can't live worrying that a headache is a brain tumor.  That a cough is lung cancer.  That a missed phone call is because the person I called was killed in a horrible wreck.  

I know that grief manifests itself in many ways.  My body is exhausted, I'm getting sick, my breast milk dried up on one side but comes back full force in both now.  Panic attacks, anxiety attacks, tears I can't stop, a longing so deep to hold my beautiful babies again.  Seeing those boys today just hurt.  I want to know what they would look like, now. 5 months later.  I want to know what they would be like.  Would they be funny like Jason?  Would they be musical like me?  I want to know what it would feel like to hold them and they hold me back.  

A friend sent me this today.  A few others have sent it over the months but the timing and the words spoke to my broken heart today in a way I didn't even know how to ask for. 

"I thought of you today and closed my eyes and prayed to God.
I asked “What makes a Mother?”
“A Mother has a baby” this we know is true,
“but God, can you be a Mother when your baby is not with you?”
“Yes, you can,” He replied with confidence in His voice.
“I give many woman babies, when they leave is not
their choice. Some I send for a lifetime, some
only for the day, and some I send to fill their womb,
but there is no need to stay.” 
“I just don’t understand this God; I want my baby to be here.’
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.
“I wish I could show you what your baby
is doing today. If you could see your child’s smile,
with all the other children and say…
“we go to earth to learn our lessons of love, life and fear. 
My mommy loved me so much; I got to come straight here. 
I feel so lucky to have a mom who had so much love for me. 
I learned my lessons quickly, my mommy set me free. 
I miss my mommy oh so much, but I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep on her pillow is where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, 
“Mommy don’t be sad today, I’m your baby and I’m here.”
“So you see dear sweet one, your children are ok.
Your baby was born in My home and this is where she will stay.
She will wait for you with Me until your lesson is through.
And on the day that you come home she will be at the gates for you.
So now you see what makes a mother?
It’s the feeling in your heart and the love you had so much of right from the very start. Though some on earth may not see you are a mother until their time is done, up here they will realize you are the 
best one!”

I miss my boys.  I miss them.  I miss everything about them.  To some they weren't much because they weren't full term but for me, for Jason, for our families, they were our everything.  Tucker had my nose, my lips.  He was beautiful.  Fletcher was tall and had Jason's nose, he was perfect.  To some they were just babies, gone too soon, to us, they are our babies, who we prayed for.  Who we talked to.  Who we held, who we loved and who we grieve.  Every second of every day. 

This due date didn't bring me what I was expecting.  I can't do anything to change that.  But it did bring me some unexpected gifts and I have to say it again.  Thank you for remembering me.  Thank you for asking about my boys.  Thank you for saying their names to me.  There is nothing more heartbreaking than to have someone not say your boys names.  There is nothing more beautiful to this mom's ears than to hear someone acknowledge my boys, my Tucker and my Fletcher. 

Tomorrow I will wake up and it will be a new day.  I don't have any huge hurdles to face other than another day without them.  I pray they know how much we love them, still.  How much we miss them, always.  And how proud we are of the lives that have been changed because of 2 very special little boys.  Our sons. 

God, please take my babies to Popsey, to Grandma, to Papaw. I need to know they are being rocked, being sang to, being loved on.  This Momma's arms are empty but my heart is overflowing with love for those special, beautiful, boys that were the best of their Daddy and I.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Punching my husband in the face and breaking in places

What an exhausting few days.

Trip to KY was nice.  Got to spend some quality time with Nana, I love that lady so much.  Showed Jason around my old stomping grounds and we went and put some flowers on Grandma and Popsey's grave.  Headed home yesterday and it was pretty much the trip from hell.

Jason's great grandfather, Cowboy Grandpa is from the hollers of WV.  Jason went up as a child and wanted to show me around.  So we leave KY at 1130 and make our way to Bluefield, WV.  He warned me it was winding roads and I told him I'd be ok.  I get carsick driving on 95 and I know the roads in KY can be pretty curvy but he was so excited, I told him, let's go for it.

We get off the interstate and see a creek and immediately everything looks familiar to Jason.  We drove for about an hour through some winding roads, through small town USA and I was a little queasy but was making it.  Then we got to a gas station and I had to throw up.  I ask where the restroom was and the man pointed to a closet.  I had to move a mop bucket to close the door and I hunker down between a vacuum cleaner and a stroller and I throw up.  We get in the car and head out again.

We drove about 30 minutes up the side of a mountain, winding, 2 lane road.  I was clenching the oh crap bar and doing deep breathing.  We go through the ghetto and we make a 90 degree turn up a mountain.  A 1 lane road, and I use the term road loosely, and there is mountain on the left and cliffs on the right.  We are going around, and around, and around, and around.  We don't see anything except trees and cliffs.  We were following GPS down all these side "roads" and we get to the top of the mountain and it starts raining and there goes our signal.  No service.  No houses, no gas stations, no humans, only a 1 lane road THRU the mountain.  I start crying.  I'm trying not to throw up and the harder the rain falls the harder I cry.  Jason tells me to pull it together and I start crying even harder.  Because this is what I knew would happen...

A coal truck comes speeding around the corner and we have nowhere to go so we hit it head on and Jason is killed.  But not me, I'm fine.  Until I'm kidnapped and taken to a trailer where I spend my days as a captured slave.

It could happen.

We are hopelessly lost so Jason finally decides to turn around and we make our way back down the mountain.  I'm having a full fledged panic attack at this point.  He says everything is fine but he's tapping on his phone trying to get it to somehow find service.  When that doesnt work he hands it to me and tells me to get service.  Because I have a cell booster in my purse.  Not.

We make it to the bottom of the mountain and I tell him to pull over, I have to puke.  He pulls into an abandoned post office and I get out and throw up.  I get back in the car and immediately open the door and get out and throw up again.  He yells at me to get in the car.  I look at him with snot and tears, mid puke, and ask if he's serious.  He says, "get in the car, NOW."  I was fuming!!  Not only had he gotten us nearly killed by a imaginary coal truck, he is now yelling at me WHILE I'm puking.  Well, I hadn't seen the cast of Deliverance pull up beside us in a van with all the windows shot out, eying us in the black Lexus.  I did hear banjo music though.  So I get in the car and neither of us talk.  We pass a fork in the road and he asks which way to go and as we are trying to get to FL, I tell him to go South. So of course, he goes North.  20 minutes down the road, he finally stops to ask for directions to 77 and the man tells him how to get there.  He gets in the car and turns around and I ask where we are going and he says back the way we came, 20 miles, to South.  Imagine that.

I'm fuming.  I told him about 10 times I wanted to punch him in the face.  Then I tell him I need to pee. We pass a Hardees and he says, lets stop at a gas station.  We pass a gas station and I say, there's one, and he wants to find a bigger one.  I really have to pee so I ask him to stop at McDonalds.  He keeps driving.  Looking for a big gas station.  That never appears.  So we end up on 77 and we are now on the interstate with nowhere to stop.  I'm FUMING MAD!  And then I look over and he's laughing.  Know what's not a good idea?  Laugh at your mad wife.

We find a rest area and pull into it and it's raining.  We get out of the car and there's a lady with 2 dogs. She pulls one by the leash and says, cmon Tucker, and I start bawling. We run into the rest area and Jason's flip flop hits the wet tile and he nearly does a split.

We laugh about it, blah blah blah and get down the road.  We are now at 5pm and we are 2 hours from Russell.  6.5 hours on the road.

We stop for dinner in Charlotte and a really bad storm rolls in.  While we are sitting in the booth inside, Jason gets a weird look on his face and I turn to see what he's looking at and he's watching a huge tree branch fall on our car.


We make it home about 2am and have a good night's rest.  I woke up today and immediately started crying.  It's weird how a day can make you so sad.   My heart was heavy, I was just really sad.  I miss the boys and I hate that my first Mother's Day is so empty.

We were going to St Augustine to see the boy's tree and to dinner with Mom and Dad.  Jason goes and starts the car and I leave behind him.  Assuming he has the house keys, I hand lock the door. I get in the car and he says to me, "I don't have the keys, can you go lock the door?"  I tell him I hand locked it.  Then we both realize at the same time, we are locked out of the house.


Nothing we can do so we head to Mom and Dad's.  The kids were in St Aug having lunch and they had asked their Mom if they could go by and see the tree.  So it worked out that we met up with them.  I saw the tree and couldn't stop the tears.  This is so unfair.  It's Mother's Day and I'm visiting the tree that we planted in memory of our boys.  Just really sucks.  But the kids were there, we had a good time visiting with them, was great that I got to see them on Mother's Day. 

We went to dinner and had a nice time with Mom and Dad and head home.  To break into our house.  We have lived here a few months and have seen a neighbor here and there but not often.  Tonight, as we are trying to break in, every neighbor is out and about and wanting to talk to us.  So we go into the garage and close the door so we can break in in private.  Jason tried a few different tools and was having no luck.  Good news/bad news.  Our house is hard to break into.

He had 5 drill batteries and they all had about 5 seconds of power on them.  Disaster. But, my awesome husband, finally got us in.

Our life isn't dull.  Never has been, I'm quite sure never will be.  Today was hard.  But I woke up to texts, emails and fb messages from so many sweet friends that wanted me to know they were thinking of me, praying for me, and wishing me a Happy Mother's Day.  I can't even say how much that meant to me.

My heart is broken.  But the salve that is healing the break are 3 kids who love me, who let me love them.  My husband who I love more than anything.  We can laugh, we can cry, I can tell him how badly I want to punch him in the face, we can get lost for hours and still come out smiling.  My parents, who cried with me as they were hugging me, standing looking at a tree, instead of holding their grandsons.  A friend who knew how hard today was for me, so made an effort to make it easier by bringing her kids, my stepkids, who she so willingly lets me love, to spend some time with.

Today sucked but it also didn't.   I had friends who were there for me, I had friends that ignored me all together.  I had people who wished me Happy Mother's Day, I had other's who didn't.  But everytime the pain got overwhelming, I got a text.  I got a call, I got an email.  I can't be mad at the people who have moved on without me because I might miss out on the ones who are walking with me.

It's my first Mother's Day without my boys.  I hated it.  But I can't be mad.  I'm a Mom.  My babies are in heaven but they are still mine.  They are part of me, for always.

I made it through today.  In 2 days I'll face my due date.  I'm sure we will face some stupid something or other that will make it interesting but I won't face it alone.

Thank you.  Each one of you who is standing with me, who is holding me up, who is reminding and acknowledging the very thing my heart desired.

Being reminded, I'm a mom.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

I am a Mom- I will celebrate Mother's Day...

I have never missed someone like I missed Jason while I was in KY and he was so far away in FL.  Sounds a little pathetic and cry me a river probably, as I flew out Mon morning and he drove in Thurs morning.  But it was a long time to be without the person who has held your hand, held you while you've cried, held your heart for 3 years and has become the other part of who I am.

Sound dramatic?  Well, I probably shouldn't tell you that he calls Wed night to tell me that he is on his way, he didn't want to wait til the next morning to leave, and I was so excited I started to cry.  Then I was so nervous that he was driving alone, at night, through the mountains, I started to cry even more.


But I can't help it.  My whole world was in that car.  My best friend.  My lover.  My husband.  My boy's daddy.  My everything.  I didn't sleep all night.  Then my knight in grey vans comes riding up in a black SUV and I ran out and jumped in his arms like it had been 3 years, not 3 days, since I last saw him.

He brought with him my Mother's Day gifts.  He has always done a very good job of making me feel loved, adored and special.  He is a good man.  He's actually pretty much the best.  He listens, he understands, he knows me.  So he knew what I wanted more than anything.

The ache and longing for Tucker and Fletcher doesn't go away.  I don't feel like I'm allowed to celebrate the pregnancy, the births, our babies, because it ended wrong.  So according to a lot of people, I'm to move forward, don't look back and just realize that crappy things happen and it's time to see the silver lining and just lets move it forward because this is getting to be a smidge uncomfortable for others who are used to me being jokey or sarcastic or dramatic...not sad and real and broken.

I want to see pictures of our babies.  I want to see pictures of me pregnant.  Yes, both make me cry, but as sad as it makes me, it also takes me back to the best time of my life.  Pregnant with Jason's babies.  My beautiful Fletcher.  Our perfect Tucker.  I want to show everyone I see.  But I don't want to share them with anyone.  I get tired of "Oh, wow, they are beautiful, they look like real babies."  I understand.  I don't know what people assume happened to me or what I gave birth to, but I did, in fact, give birth to 2 beautiful baby boys that look like 2 beautiful baby boys.

Jason made a shadow box of the hats the boys wore after they were born.  The blankets the nurses wrapped them in.  Jason sent me flowers after Tucker died and we were still expecting the best for Fletcher.  The card said, simply, "to the strongest woman I know, I love you."  The dried flowers and the card is in the shadowbox.  Ornaments mom had made.  Their feet and handprints.  Everything we have left of the boys is in that box.

He also made me a picture book.  Pictures of me with the kids.  Painting, baking, playing, laughing.  Pictures of me pregnant.  Pictures of us getting pregnant.  When you go thru IVF they arent x-rated so you can do that.  Pictures of our ultrasounds.  Pictures of us finding out they were both boys.  Pictures of our boys.  Pictures of us holding them.  Pictures of their tree.  Pictures of as at the tree.  Letters the kids wrote me.  Letters that made me cry, that I cherish, that I adore.

This Mother's Day I don't have any of my kids with me.  I have 3 in heaven, I have 1 in TN somewhere, I have 3 in FL but they are all in my heart.  Always and forever in my heart.

I have a husband who knew that I didn't want jewelry.  I didn't want a trip.  I wanted to celebrate the lives we created, the lives we are part of and the journey it took us on.  I love that man.  I love those kids.  I miss my boys.

But I am blessed.  I have loved, I have lost but I have become a mom so I will celebrate this year the 2 little miracles who made me, finally, what I always have longed to be...Momma.

I am their Momma.  Death can't take that from me.  Nothing can take that from me.  I want my boys, in heaven, celebrating me, their Momma, with the people I know will help them.  Popsey, Grandma, Papaw, they didn't get to see me here as a mom but this Mother's Day they get to spend with Tucker and Fletcher.

My boys.

The boys who made me a mom.

I hope I'm making my boys proud.  Tucker, Fletcher, Momma loves you!  So much, sweet babies!   Thank you for giving me the best gift I have ever received.  You boys were the best of your daddy and I.  I can't hold you, I can't rock you, I can't sing to you here, but I can whisper, I can pray and I can dream about you always.

Forever, and always, in your Momma and Daddy's hearts, sweet boys.  We miss you!

Monday, May 6, 2013

Falling down stairs. Crying on a plane.

Been a long time since my stomach has hurt like this.  Couldn’t figure out what it was, then I tasted the blood from biting my lip so hard and realized it was from trying so hard not to cry, it actually aches.   And bleeds.

I guess saying “a long time” isn’t accurate.  Could have been weeks ago.  Might as well have been a lifetime ago for all the good that time means to me right now.

Today I was on a plane, flying home.  1 of 200 people.  Nothing special.  My story could be anything.  Lonely lady flying to anywhere USA.  Business woman on her laptop making the best use of her uninterrupted time alone.  A snob who thinks she’s better than anyone else with her earbuds in, not looking anyone in the eyes and wearing sunglasses on the plane. 

Any of those are better than the truth.  A grieving mother who can’t believe that a week before her due date she is only allowed on a plane because her babies died and she’s blasting sad music on her earbuds because she needs something that vocalizes her pain and she’s wearing her glasses so the tears aren’t quite so obvious.

That was me on the plane.

This was me this morning. 

A grieving mother, flying down the stairs in a rush to let the dog out before Dad picks me up for the airport, trying to juggle luggage, purse, laptop, cellphone and flat iron that was too hot to pack, on 5” wedges that are entirely inappropriate for anything other than standing there looking pretty and I slide down the stairs. Slide.  On my butt.  Luggage flying, purse flying, carpet burn on my elbow, ankle bent at an unnatural angle. 

I was doing ok on the flight.  Until I opened the shade.  A song was playing in my earbuds,

 “I know the scriptures, I’ve known the songs.  I sang the words from my hollowed heart.  But you’ve spoken softly, through the storm, I’ve heard your voice and I felt the calm.  I stand only because, you’ve given me the faith to walk, only because, You carried me, you carried me, you carry me through it all.  And I believe, yes I believe, you’ll carry me all the way home.”

I’m listening to the words that now make sense and I saw nothing but white, fluffy clouds.  No houses, no roads, no mountains, just white, beautiful clouds.  And I felt, physically, more close to Tucker and Fletcher than I have since they died. It sounds cheesy, or cliché maybe, but it felt like I was flying up to my boys.  I felt free.  I couldn’t stop the tears.  Like tears streaming like a faucet, tears. 

I shut the shade really quickly, trying to get some composure.  I don’t know how long I sat there, trying to stop the tears. 

When I opened the shade again, all I could see was white.  Not clouds but a white out.  I panicked.   I felt completely claustrophobic and if I couldn't see up from down then certainly the pilot wouldn't be able to and we were going to crash and I was going to die in a tin coffin.  I freaked and I kind of started hyperventilating.  The old man beside me didn’t know whether to hug me or order me a drink.

I have multiple personalities and they are all trainwrecks. 

I haven’t been home since last Christmas.  I haven’t seen anyone since I lost the boys.  I’ve seen some of my family in between Tucker and Fletcher dying.  But last time they all saw me I was with my family.  I was happier than they had ever seen me. My trips to KY for a long time were me running away because my life had fallen apart and I needed to get away.  The last time they saw me my life was complete and I had everyone I loved most in one room. 

This trip is different. My life hasn’t fallen apart.  Abig part of my life did.  But I have something I have never had before.  I have a husband who is coming to get me in a few days.  I have kids who will be waiting for me when I get back.  I have a life to get back to.  Not one I’m running away from.

As noble and grand as that sounds, I’m a nervous wreck.   Having a blog is all fine and dandy and some may read it, others may not, but you never really know who reads what so you may run into someone who knows everything about your life, good, bad and ugly and you’re thinking you’re just having a normal conversation but in their head they are thinking, “wow, she really does look like a trainwreck.”  “wonder which elbow has carpet burn on it from her falling down the stairs.”  “I want to tell her I know her story, I understand because I’ve been there but don’t want to look like a crazy person.” That line actually happened to me last week.

It’s all good.  If anything can be said about me, it’s this. I’m crazy, I’m hurting,  I’m broken and I’m weary.  I’m scared at every moment I’m going to bust out in tears, scared to death someone will ask me about my boys, scared to death no one will ask me about my boys….Brand comes running up to me and I realize I hadn't seen him since before I went into the hospital and I cry.  I stop for a minute and realize I'm here, my husband isn't and I cry.  This trip may have seemed benign to me before I got on the plane.  It's a whole lot more than benign.  This is a pretty big friggen deal.  I went from not wanting to be alone for a minute to boarding a plane alone.  Crying and looking a fool, but boarded the plane none the less.  

I’m certainly not where I thought I would be a week before Mother’s Day but I’m further than I was on Christmas Day so if we are taking it by holidays, then by July 4 I should be on the other side ofcrazy.


Who knows.

If you see me, hug me. Know I might cry but it’s only because if I stop biting my lip the tears flow but my stomach hurts so maybe crying is good for the soul.   Say hi, say something but please, don’t judge me.  Because my elbow may be hurt but I can still throw some throat punches your way.

Blessed because I'm here with Nana, spending some time with the people who have prayed me and loved me through my darkest. 

My ole KY home…