A late night...

  It has been a while since I have been up this late and unable to sleep.  I feel jittery and anxious and I am not clear why.  This Thanksgiving was the first Thanksgiving in 15 years I haven't been with my now ex-husband and his family (they were my family too).  It was strange, but okay.  November 30 marks the 7th anniversary of Bridger's first "big crash", a day when he stopped breathing at home and we spent the next several days and weeks wondering if he would survive, wondering if he would ever open his eyes again.  Normally, this day is ever present in my mind, both leading up to and on the actual day.  But this year, I didn't totally realize what day it was until it was December 1.  I don't know what to think about that.  Both are possibilities of the cause of my current anxious state, but it still doesn't totally make sense.
  I am going on a trip soon, this will be the longest I have been out of town since living with Bridger in Texas for 9 days (I will only be gone for 7 days).  Might this be the cause of some anxiety?  Am I anxious because around this time last year, my heart was coming to terms with what my mind was telling me?  That my marriage was at the end of it's rope?  Maybe the anxiety of the already difficult holidays not having my children, but the thought of being completely alone?
  I know that I am not "alone" alone, but the last 15 years (3 of which we stayed home with our grief) I have spent holidays with my nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters in law.  I loved being an aunt and watching them grow.  Even when it was difficult because of the reminders that my children would never live these moments, it still made me so happy to see my nieces and nephews experience new things.  I love my family on both sides.... so much.  But I did walk away from one side of the family when I walked away from my husband.  I new of sacrifices that I was making by choosing to leave and I didn't think that it would be easy....  there are moments though, when it hurts more.
  It all hurts more sometimes.  Tuesday, I woke up and was having a sad and sentimental morning.  Every song that came on reminded me of my recent past.  "The reason that I can't stay don't have a thing to do with being in love, I understand that loving a man doesn't have to be this tough", I can't get those lyrics out of my mind.  "That ain't no way to go...", "She used to be mine....", song after song, I must have fast forwarded through 20 songs or more and eventually just had to turn the radio off.  I didn't..... I don't want to fall apart....
  I know that I am the one who took the final step, but that doesn't make it any less painful....  I had given everything I had, every ounce of love to this man.... I loved him so intensely for so long... but the pain gone stronger and so did our distance... we dealt with our grief differently.  I wished that I could love him enough to take the pain away, but I couldn't.  Every time I see him, I still cry.  I cry because I see the suffering in his eyes.  I cry because I know that I can't help him.  I cry because now I have contributed to his pain.  I cry because my family of 4 has disintegrated in to one....maybe even less than one...
  I know that when most of us look back ten, twenty, thirty years back and remember what our dreams were then, seldom do they reflect our current lives.  Most of us didn't think we would be where we are now, whether good or bad... we thought it would be different.  Maybe that is where the sadness increases, maybe my expectations were too unrealistic for my reality.  At the time, I didn't think I expected too much.  A house, a job, a husband, children to raise, grandchildren.  Maybe that is the point, any expectation is too much.  We never really know what will happen and to expect leaves room for disappointment.
  I was talking to a friend today about the differences between Bridger's and Finleigh's deaths and my grief with each.  Though Bridger was so fragile (one of his medications, if stopped for more than 2 seconds, he would die), I really expected him to defy the odds.  I had imagined over and over in my mind taking him back to Primary Children's hospital when he was 3 years old and walking him through the halls of the PICU in his little cowboy boots and cowboy hat saying hi to all of his many caregivers who cared for him in his most difficult days.  I truly thought that is what would happen.  So when he died (we were waiting for a heart and lung transplant) I was shocked.  I felt like I had been robbed.  I had this plan, this expectation of how life would be after transplant.  Well my expectations weren't met and the following years took me to a very dark place.
  In contrast, with Finleigh, we felt that coming home on hospice was the right path for her.  I kept having this feeling that she would not be born alive, much less make it home alive.  So when she came out screaming, I was surprised, happily....  Every moment after I was able to receive as the gift it was, instead of an expectation I had.  I knew she would die, I just didn't know when.  Statistically, a baby with her condition unrepaired could live an average of 8 days.... she lived 18.  But as I said before, I didn't expect her to even make it home, so every breath she took after that was an unexpected joy.
  So is this why I am anxious? Sad?  Because I had so many expectations for my life and I feel as though, due to various reasons, they have not been met?  Am I creating my own sadness?  I think that I have improved immensely on not having expectations now, but my past ones still haunt me.... still hurt.
  I don't know....maybe this is just my late night rambling....maybe it is yours too.

Tomorrow (today) is another day and I am excited to live it, to do the best I can to do God's will.... tonight I am just tired, but unable to sleep....
If I will just ask Him to carry me, maybe I can get some rest....

Time has changed things....

I was looking at some of the pictures of my babies tonight and as I saw some of the ones of Bridger in the days before he died, I was taken aback.  A moment that I never wanted to come is finally here.... As I looked at one particular picture, the vision of him I have carried in my mind for the last 6 years and 4 months looks a little different than the photo I saw tonight.  I have pictures of both of them in my home, in my car, on my phone.  How could this be, that my memory is different that what is photographed?
Then, as I began to think a little more about it, I realized that I don't remember how it feels to hold him, the weight of him being in my arms.  He looked so grown up in those last few days of photos.  He was sitting up all on his own, reaching for my camera, shaking his head "no" at me.  I can remember it all, so why do these photos look different?  What else is different?  What am I forgetting?
For those of you who have lost a loved one, you may have experienced a similar feeling.  Part of me is panicking a little, because I fear that I am beginning to lose those precious memories that only I carry.  Memories that no photo or video can replace.  I don't know what to think or how to feel about this....
My body and mind have been used to carrying the weight of losing them and I have grown in strength to carry it, but I feel as though I am wavering in my strength, this is tipping my carefully balanced scale and there isn't anything I can do about it.  I cannot go back and re- memorize each and every part of them.  I cannot hold them in my arms to remember how their bodies felt curled up close to me.

So what now... I don't know.  I didn't expect this.... I feared it would happen, but I thought my mind was stronger than this.  I thought I would be much older before my mind started playing tricks on me.

45 minutes ago I was just getting ready for bed as usual.... Now, I feel like I am covered in a heavy, wet blanket and my muscles are too exhausted to climb out from under it.... Maybe I will feel less worn out in the morning.... Maybe my memory will match the photos tomorrow....