So you wanna know what really sucks? Having to explain to a four year old why we had to go to the hospital after his sister died. What sucks even more than that? Trying to lightly explain to him what kind of measures the doctors took in trying to “save” her.
I took the boys with me on a what should have been a short trip to the grocery store tonight. I only took them because it was supposed to be a short trip. With all the crap going on these days with people trying to take your kids for trafficking I get anxious taking them out without our bodyguard aka Vinnie Sr. We went to the store and it was getting late. It was way past my ideal dinner time. I TRY to have dinner done by 6:30 every night. It was like an hour past that time. So I said eff this and took them to McDonald’s. Yea I know. I hate feeding it to them but…. Whatever. I have severely fallen off of the wagon as far as getting us on a healthier diet. I was trying really hard up until this bullshit never ending nightmare that you can’t wake up from happened. ANY WAYS. We leave McDonald’s get in the van which…. My Remington says “Thank you Mom.”…. “Uhh for what?”… “For the food. Thank you..”…. Heart melts all over the parking lot…
Now wait…. I feel the need to share how much of a HOT MESS I was ok. I had on a pair of yoga pants. An oversized black t-shirt with paint stains on it. A messy bun, which, that really isn’t out of my norm. Remington’s face that I forgot to wipe before we left the house.. Vinnie Jr in a bright green shirt with navy blue shorts and red Spider-Man sandals on. RED. First of all I hate red and blue together it drives me nuts. Now we leave but, of course not before Vinnie could throw at least one fit and,,,, oh it was just a mess. I had bought fried chicken because….Hello…Friend chicken… As I’m loading my few bags in the back of the van I was so hungry. Like the hungry where your blood sugars start dropping and you think, this is how it ends… So I sure was loading these bags and children in the van while eating a drum stick. I don’t care. However I can only imagine what that looked like to bystanders or people driving through the parking lot. Also why wouldn’t today be the day that I run into like three people who I know. WTF! If “hot mess” had a poster woman it sure would have been me.
On our way home I don’t even remember how it got brought up to be honest. Remington was saying little things in passing about Stella the whole trip and then he just dove right in and started asking questions. I’m as honest with him as I can be. Also my honesty only goes as far as I think he can handle. So he asked why me and Daddy went to the hospital that morning. “Because she died?” is what he said to me. I tried to explain to him that yea that’s why we went. I tried to explain to him that when she left the house we weren’t sure and that the doctors were trying really hard to save her. Any idea how hard it is to explain to a four year old that the doctors tried to administer adrenalin to her 3 times? He has no idea what that is but I tried to explain it to him. Then he wanted to know how Daddy got to the hospital and then how I got to the hospital and what we did at the hospital. Now when he gets into this. It isn’t often and we only talk about it when he brings it up. Then I know for a brief moment he’s comfortable enough. See he’s trying so hard to comprehend everything that happened that day. Not just Stella’s passing but also the business of it all. Why the police were there. Why we went to the hospital. Why people were going in and out of our room and taking pictures of everything and also of them. Which, today was the first I heard of anyone taking pictures of them. I’m not really sure how I feel about that but whatever, it’s done. I explained all of this in a way that he might be able to understand and also in a way that won’t somehow screw with his head and make it sound just as scary as it is.
It honestly kills me inside knowing how bad he wants to understand. I sometimes wonder if it would have been easier if he were a little older. However I guess the older you get the less resilient you become sometimes. I mean, I don’t know. Is it maybe a blessing that he was so young? Like, maybe he will forget all the details that he is trying to make sense of? I don’t know. I suppose only father time has that answer. This conversation ended in the same way it always does. Asking him if he had anymore questions he wanted answers to and reassuring him that he can talk to me any time he needs to and ask me anything he wants to know, and also reassuring him that his Mommas got him.
However internally for me this whole conversation caused a bit of an uproar. Then I was thinking back to my post a few days ago and how I said something about forgetting that she wouldn’t still be this new small baby anymore. I started thinking about that and looking through pictures and I just got really pissed off. I won’t have any pictures of her any older than 33 days old. The pictures won’t change. Yes the whole point of pictures is capturing a moment so that u have that exact moment saved forever. But. Her picture reel ran out. It gets to 33 days old and starts over. I can see now how year 2 that I hear is even harder than year 1 is in fact going to be harder. It’s because she should be going into her second year of life and she’s not. Her face would be changing again and it’s not. It’s bullshit. My family pictures will never be complete. Someone will ALWAYS be missing. I can have the owl that the hospital gave me (I’ll explain the owl in a different post if I haven’t already I can’t remember) in the picture to represent her but….IT’S NOT HER. No matter what… throw in 50 stuffed animals and it doesn’t matter. I know more about parenting now than I ever have and even being armed with all the knowledge I have my baby is still gone. Which is kind of why I think I fell off the “hippy” wagon. What’s even the point?! I know the road I was traveling was better for my family. Slowly eliminating chemicals and going a more natural lifestyle but even still. I don’t know. Every now and then my bitterness wins for the night. I hate that my sweet children have sleeping issues now because of this. Which is my next task. I need to figure out a way to get them back on track. But like I said I can only imagine if Remington has some sort of flashbacks.
Today… I am sick of being “strong”. Today I want to be the weak one. I can’t be. My husband does a whole hell of a lot for us. I stay at home. I am the primary caregiver. Given that I am that I don’t get weak days where I can outwardly be the mess that I am. I NEED to keep my shit together. I have the best little people as my motivators though. They need me. My husband needs me. He needs to know that on his “bad days”, I got this. It seems as though that our bad days always fall on the same days though so that’s why I haven’t had a day to just fall apart. Obviously I fell apart in the beginning and he held it together for me. I have no idea how he did it but he did it. I kind of fell in love with him all over again during that time. I just feel like I have been trying so hard to keep everything and everyone as together as I can that I put myself as LAST priority. It’s my own fault. If I know he’s having a rough day I won’t even mention mine. SOMEONE has to hold it down. I can do that. I mean realistically this grief is going to last this entire lifetime right so I have some time to worry about myself later. My main focus is my family. This kind of grief is soooo exhausting. I’m sooo tiiirrreeeeddd….but… I have a whole lot to be thankful for.