Skip to main content

Tipping the Scales


I had to Google the stages of grief last night. I couldn't remember what they all were and I prefer not to know too much about "stages" because then I'll have expectations about what I should be doing. I needed to look them up though, because I was searching for one in particular.

Bargaining.

On the first site I clicked on, it says this, "Guilt often accompanies bargaining. We start to believe there was something we could have done differently to have helped save our loved one." (Taken from https://psychcentral.com/lib/the-5-stages-of-loss-and-grief/).

Guilt. Overwhelming. Crushing. Guilt.

Everything I do right now comes in a nice guilt-wrapped package. Two of my children are gone, and it doesn't seem to matter that even though I *know* there was nothing I could do...it feels like I failed them somehow. That I don't measure up as a mother. That I didn't deserve them and they're gone because God knew I couldn't handle just one more kid. 

Every time I yell. Discipline. Lose my cool. Whatever you call it or do. I feel sorry for my children.

We had a therapist coming to the house up until last week to help with coping strategies for us and the kids as we navigate our loss. I calmly handled each time one of the kids did something that was driving me nuts or when they needed discipline. I looked at her one day and I said, "Tammy...this is not what I'm like when you aren't here. My patience goes much further when someone is watching."

She responded, "Of course it does. It's like that for everyone."

I immediately thought: No, you don't understand. I'm mean. I'm awful. My kids are suffering because I can't keep it together all the time. If only you knew what I was REALLY like, you would think I was a horrible mother too. 

My personal therapist looked straight at me once when I'd gone down this line of thinking and asked, "Kaila, are you abusing your children?"

I just stopped and stared at her. I was shocked. I didn't answer for awhile because I really wanted to let that question soak in. Am I? She already knew the answer, and I'm sure that's why she asked it. She wanted me to be able to hear myself say-

No. I'm not. I love these babies more than anything in this world. 

AND yes I can lose my cool. Go off my rocker. Yell. Get frustrated. It's when this happens, that I immediately think, you don't deserve them. They'd be better off with someone else. You don't yell at people you love. I've had close friends tell me, "Oh girl, I lose it too!" But I think...not. like. I. do.

That's the lie I believe. That I'm the worst. I'm the ONLY one. I'm the meanest. If I truly loved my children, I'd never take a moment for granted. I'd never yell. I'd figure out the very best discipline methods...and we would all be happy all the time.

Right.

I texted my sister last night. She told me she retreats 'real fast' to her insecure place at the slightest hint that she's not "doing it right." I told her I've been living in that insecure place for the last couple weeks and *freaking everything* feels confirmatory that I don't know what I'm doing and my kids deserve better. 

These feelings are real. But they are not true.



I find myself bargaining with God now regularly. I was terrified Mira would die on her first day of school. That she'd be taken because we had a bad day the day before, and I had gotten frustrated too many times with her. I wrapped a prayer shawl around her the morning before she left in a desperate attempt to reconcile the bad day before and keep her safe while she spent 8 hours without me in a new place with new people. I fear that life is one big scale of "good" and "bad" and I keep a running tally of the bad things I've done in a day. I worry about the punishment I'll receive. Is Jamey next? Mira? Edward?...me?

People. This is anxiety. 

I'm tired often. And I know it's because I am battle weary. I'm exhausted fighting the lies, but fight I do. It's not always going to be this way. I've got too much professional, social, emotional, and spiritual support for me to fail. 

Much of our days are good. We have MANY joyful moments. We have a beautiful family. I love my babies fiercely. I don't have to perform to receive grace. There are no scales and they are not tipping. I will not be punished for my hard days. I'm a wonderful Momma. I believe that. I need to let go of the lies.

And embrace the truth.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Hardest Part

One year ago today I had my very last prenatal checkup. I saw both my maternal-fetal medicine specialist and my ob/gyn. My blood pressure was great. Gabriel was still there and moving. There was no indication that within 24 hours my liver would start to fail. I didn't know that April 13th, 2018 would be the last time I ever saw my baby on an ultrasound. It would be the last time I heard his heartbeat. I didn't know that the next morning a pain would begin. The next day I would meet my sweet little 2-month-old nephew. I wouldn't be able to eat because I just wasn't feeling well. I would stay up late with the pain, sipping water and waiting for it to pass. The next night would be spent in the ER, not knowing we would be meeting Gabriel face to face just 10 hours later. One year ago was the beginning of goodbye to this teeny boy. And I had no idea. Wednesday morning. It's time to get ready to leave. Except it's 3:00am. I keep waking up, worried tha

We Look Like Four

6 years ago I celebrated Mother's Day with no baby in my arms. Sam had died 2 weeks before. The year after that, I was pregnant with Mira and still had no baby to hold. The year after, Mira gave me the gift of the stomach flu. ;) The last few years have been fairly "normal" with the exception that one of my children was not there. And this year, I will celebrate with half of my children. There is nothing easy about this. One thing I grieve is I will never have all of my children in one picture. I asked the photographer to take one with Mira and Edward when they came to visit us at the hospital. I'd said, I don't care if it's crazy or no one is looking. I just want one with us as a family of 5. That's what we have. One picture of the 5 of us. One. We're a family of six, but out and about we look like four. We don't look like our hands are full with just the two. We don't know what it's like to juggle a baby carrier while chasing do

A New Way to Celebrate

"But He could have saved my boys.  He could have . I'm so angry He didn't. I'm going to have to work through that with God, and I'm going to need time to do it. This isn't a quick fix, and there is no band-aid big enough to patch this damage. This cut is so deep it's going to take some major reconstructive surgery." I wrote that nearly two years ago. Two years. I wasn't wrong. There has been no quick fix. There was no band-aid. I'm still working through this with God. I still need time. I'll likely be working on this grief until it's my turn to leave this world. What I can  say is the waves have settled a bit; the intensity of the grief not quite so severe. I don't talk about them as much anymore. I no longer desire to go back to the hospital and cradle their cold bodies. We're done having children....even that  thought isn't as painful as it was just a year ago. Sam's birthday is April 30th. Gabriel