Amelia, My Saving Grace

I've dealt with a lot of loss in my life, starting in my late teens. At one point, it seemed like people were dropping like flies - crass as that statement may be.

After a certain point, you get really good at dealing with it. At least I did. You learn to find a spot for those emotions, bury them as deep as you can, and continue on. Because life around you continues. In most cases you take a few days off and then are expected to get 'back to the grind' like nothing happened. Which is fine by me, because in reality what is the alternative? Sitting around wallowing in the pain? I don't want to live that way, and in fact I refuse to do so. Pick yourself back up, straighten your face, wipe those tears, and move on. Always have, and always will.

But there are sometimes, when it just hits you. The emotion is stronger than you thought you were, and you just have to let it go. I hate these releases. I hate those feelings. And I hate those moments I feel my own weakness.

(I'll pause here to mention that this post, and blog for that matter is in no way a cry for attention, or a sob story to make others feel bad for myself. That I am not looking for, nor do I want. There are much bigger mountains out there, and I am extremely fortunate and thankful for the life I have. Regardless of the downfalls and all things sad, I wouldn't choose to have another life - ever. Putting this all out here in the open makes me feel extremely vulnerable, and I question if it's something I even want to do. But I've been writing since I can remember, it's a form of therapy for me and I can't be anything less than completely open, blunt and honest in my words. If I'm going to do it, it's going to be with no reservations.)

It's in these moments of 'weakness' that I grab for anything I can reach that will pull me out of it. Kevin is my very best support, but that's a post for another time. When I need something to bring light to my darkness, I revert to who I need to be as a mother for Amelia. She is where I find my footing.

Our first miscarriage was at 5 weeks, and we didn't even know I was pregnant. This honestly helped in the way of how much sadness we had for the loss. It was such a quick and unexpected thing that while obviously still painful, it was 'easy' dare I say to move on from.

The second one, not so much.

I was 11 weeks along on my 30th birthday. We had told some friends and family, and Amelia that we were expecting, all so excited as were we. I knew the minute it started happening. Kevin was staying in a hotel in Chicago for work, and when I told him what I thought was going on, he told me to come down by him. So I packed Amelia and myself and we met him at the hotel. That night, while he and Amelia slept, I miscarried our third baby. Happy Birthday to me (note the bitterness..I know I shouldn't keep it but it's just there).

This was a hard one. In fact we made the mistake of going out for 'a few drinks' not too long after and I definitely let some of those emotions go while throwing up red wine. Needless to say I haven't drank it since. I was so heartbroken, questioning why and having to tell those who knew the bad news. The worst was having to tell Amelia. She was so young for something that big, that I didn't know how to explain it to her. I tell her just about everything, with no sugar coating or dumbing down for a child's level of understanding - if she gets it she gets it, and if not well then we'll revisit it at another time. But this one I felt she really didn't need to know, so I simply told her I had been mistaken and wasn't actually pregnant in the first place.

Kilians situation was something I knew I couldn't hide from her, so from very early on she knew everything. She can tell you that he has one lung and kidney, dextrocardia, and that the tube in his mouth is helping his lung breath. She also knows, that we could loose him at any moment.

She continues on with the most positive attitude. In missing us while we're with Kilian, in expressing how she's so sad that she can't meet him, and her level of maturity while discussing her feelings regarding the possibility of loosing him - she is truly wise beyond her years.

Every day I still have to be a mother to her and for her sake. When the tears want to come, my mind set shifts to her and I ask myself if there is benefit to what I am doing. I absolutely believe that allowing her to see us feel pain, and handle it appropriately, is all part of life. But there are some moments she does not need to see, and I find strength in projecting myself as the most positive role model for her. I often fail, and these days I just try my hardest to not be the worst version of myself - and count that as a win. But in making each day as 'normal' for her as I can, it also helps me.

Thru her I find strength, I find grace, and I find the will to carry on. And in the event we loose Kilian, I still have her. This brings me some sort of comfort, and I have definitely been holding her tighter.

She is the kindest, sweetest, most thoughtful little human (although let's be honest..she is four and has her moments, lots of them), and am thankful she is mine every minute of every day. Well..ok MOST days.

I am so aware of who I am in the eyes of her, and in molding her to be the person I know she is destined to be, that it helps me focus on something other than all the bad surrounding Kilians situation.

I still have to get up in the morning and make her breakfast. I still have to make sure she's bathed. I still have to make sure she is disciplined when needed and emotionally supported when she's having a bad day. Some days I am better than others, and the not so good days, while I try to feel not too much guilt about, teach me to be better the next.

I spent a lot of time in my pregnancy looking for information and advice on how to support her thru all of this, and my suggestion to anyone facing a similar situation is to do the same. Those words have stuck with me and while there's so little I can do for Kilian, it feels a little better knowing I can at least do something for her.

I often think about how I will tell her if Kilian does pass. I'm trying to prepare myself to be strong, and unwavering in whatever reaction she has to the news. The thought brings me to tears sometimes and I'm not confident in thinking I'll be able to do it. But I know for her sake, there is no other option. It gives me focus, and in knowing that she will still be here - a sence of hope that we will carry on. That we can and will all make it thru whatever the outcome of this crazy situation is. She is, without a doubt, my saving grace.