What about the father?

It's interesting how many ask about the Mother after infant loss.  

Many people ask the Father about the Mother.  

Not many think to ask about the grieving Father.  

I know what he's going through, we lost our daughter together, just as we lost our son.  

Only I had physical recovery to add to my pain. 

Rick was so wonderful after my C-Section, he reminded me that I'm not 32 anymore and that I'd had major surgery.  He really picked up the slack, he did absolutely everything.  

I guess I was busy trying to recover, trying to get back to normal, trying not to throw myself in the lake, to notice his despair.

He couldn't hide out in the house all day in Pj's, he couldn't sleep in, keep his feet propped up.  He had to go to work, he had to function.  He had a few projects/side jobs started before we had Lainey.

  I used to feel so frustrated with him knowing people were becoming impatient because he was not completing the jobs.   I think there was a level of understanding for a time.  

It took me a while to realize Rick came home from work, and helped in the house, but couldn't even look at his side jobs.  Months would go by and he didn't even so much as tinker in the garage.  

So unlike him.

DUH!

He was low, he was depressed, he lost his little girl.  He had to dedicate her grave, he had to dedicate his son's grave 22 years ago next month and then his Mother's grave 21 years ago this month.  He's buried two children!  One at 29 and one at 50.  At 30 he lost his Mom.  

Of course he doesn't want to work in the garage.  Of course after a long thankless day at work, he just wants to watch TV!

When we lost Ricky, we had an electronics business.  The upstairs neighbors had a flood right around the same time as I delivered, the water fell into our shop and customer's items were damaged.  Of course insurance would pick up the tab, but we still had to set about finding replacement products for people.  This one woman, who was greatly inconvenienced demanded that we buy her exactly the camera she had.  (Only, hers was several years old)   

Rick had to deal with the business, his wife delivering a baby, picking out a casket, burying our son, replace peoples' equipment all within weeks of each other.  

I will never forget the day when this woman came in unhappy with her new camera, fussing about the time it took...Rick apologized and explained, "We lost our baby" and she said something to the effect of, "your personal problems should not get in the way of your business".  

Rick was enraged and I remember him screaming at her at the top of his lungs to take her stuff and never come back.  

She never did.

What about him?  It's hard for him too?  

Only he doesn't get on the phone with his best friends, or Mother to talk about it.  He doesn't mention it in conversation because he can't talk about it, it's painful.  

When he started to come out of his depression all this other stuff was happening:  3 robberies at our business within one month of each other.  5 car accidents between Lindsay and Kodi within 3 months.  Only 1 accident was truly their fault.  He had to leave the business he started to take a job with regular pay.  We somehow get through all that, and now people are really breathing down his neck to get the sick work completed.  

He's finally off the couch in the evenings.  He's feeling better.  I just with the pressure would let up.  I'm tired, he's tired.  

About my Social Work Degree

In high school I knew I was going to be a Social Worker.  I got my associates degree with the intention of finishing my BSW.  Rick and I got married and it was put on hold.

I graduated in May 2014, unknowingly pregnant.  I all but begged my internship (at a skilled nursing facility) to keep me on part time.  I felt as if I worked well with staff, I loved the residents, I knew they were expanding, and I was willing to work 8 hours a week if that's all they could offer me.

I wasn't offered even a part time position.  I was perhaps too popular for some of my co-workers, mainly one co-worker, my Supervisor.  I felt crushed because I had grown to love that flawed organization and everyone in it.

By the end of September my fate had been sealed, sealed with a recliner and for the next 3.5 months that's where I could be found.  I couldn't do much because of my blood pressure and I didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize Lainey.  Having a C-Section required a longer recovery period and I admit I was tired of recovering.

Constantly searching for what it was I was supposed to do became discouraging.  Then out of no where I got a call from my real estate friend, "I need to hire you to keep my books".  Within hours was a call from a friends Sister-in-law,  "Would you like to come talk about a job, keeping books?" Two job offers.

I was reminded of the man from my church, standing in my foyer some 9 months earlier with tears in his eyes, telling me that he was prompted to tell me, "Heavenly Father, loves you and he is aware of your needs".

Here it was, I needed a job.

I started part time at both jobs, ultimately the job at a machine shop consumed more of my time and after two weeks I knew it would be a good job.  Each day my boss thanked me before I left.  I had a bit of a money mess to clean up with the books and I worked very hard at it.

2 weeks in, my Social Work Internship Supervisor sent me a text.  She asked how I was doing, asked if I was working.  I didn't want to tell her, I felt her text was superficial.  She hadn't contacted me throughout my pregnancy, when Lainey died no one from my internship sent a card or flowers.  Instead of telling her about my job, I asked her where I should send my resume?  She told me she'd let me know, then I didn't hear from her again.  In my mind, proving she was just fishing.

Weeks 3 and 4 I spent even more hours at work.  My boss kept me busy and I recall saying to him, "You do know that I had been laying around for months and  I just had a baby in November, right?"  He smiled and nodded.   He was putting me to work.

At the end of my 4th week at work, around 10 in the morning my boss's wife came into my office with a $400.00 check, a bonus, thanking me for all my hard work.  I was shocked!  So appreciative!

2 hours later, my Internship Supervisor called she wanted me to come in for an interview, they need to hire an additional Social Worker!  I was completely shocked and conflicted.   As a Social Work Intern, I had to be somewhat submissive to my Supervisor and I didn't always stand up for what I felt was needed or right.  I was certain she would be surprised by the real me, and it would be difficult for both of us.

Yet, it was "THE" job.  The one I had prayed for and cried over.  The one I had missed, with the people I genuinely cared about.  I was floored.  Saturday and I had a long telephone conversation with my former Supervisor.  We discussed what I had been through, we discussed what the job would look like, we discussed everything.  The next step was to talk to the Administrator.

On Monday we had a phone conversation and he told me, "The job is yours, we are not even advertising it".  We agreed that I would come in and speak with him.  Then a few days later my supervisor called with the impression that not only did I accept the job, but I'd be in for training in two days.

They were not listening, they were hearing what they wanted.  

I had a frank conversation with her and I simply stated, "Had I remained on the staff even if only for a few hours a week, this decision would be easier".  "I've been through so much, and my heart has been broken, I'm not sure I can do this job at this time in my life".

I called to speak with the administrator personally about the job and circumstances, I left two messages, he never even took the time to return my phone call.  She had told him I wasn't ready or able to take the job.  Like that, it was over.

They had offered me $2.00 less more an hour than what I was making, no unexpected bonus would come my way and my hours would have zero flexibility, working 5 days a week at a job 40 minutes from home.

Meanwhile, each week I was becoming more familiar with my work responsibilities.  It had been a while since I worked with this financial software, it was challenging, I was not sitting in the recliner.

Around March when the postpartum set in, my job was my saving grace.  It was the only place I wanted to be, I looked forward to going to work, I hated coming home.  There was so much activity at home, all the kids talking, the dog...I couldn't process it.  At work, I had that disconnect from the feelings and pain.  It helped that my co-workers, boss and his wife were all so good to each other and me.  I've been there nearly 8 months and before I leave my boss still thanks me for my work.

I work with 7 men, 5 days a week and I have absolutely no drama.  I am not dealing with disgruntled people or families, back biting of co-workers, nothing.  I have learned some interesting things about a group of men that sit down for lunch together, men at lunch, far different than women!

8 months later, I still enjoy going to work.  I enjoy the mental break.

Yes, I have a social work degree and a student loan to prove it.

For now, I'm happy and safe at my job, so that's where I plan to stay.

The day the music died

My piano sat in the front room at our last house.  I walked passed it many times a day.  Most days, I sat down and played it often, too often, if you were to ask my family.  Mostly because I am not all that great, but practice makes you great, right?!

Before me moved I was in charge of Sunday music at church, I had been the choir director, primary pianist...and often I conducted the congregational hymns.

We moved and were only here a week when we found out about Lainey.  The swelling was difficult and sitting at the piano was impossible.  I could barely sit anywhere that my feet couldn't be up.  My blood pressure was an issue, so much of my time was spent in the recliner with my feet propped up on pillows.

Going to orchestra was out, it was just too much, too many people to face.

Almost in an instant the music in my life was gone.   I went from having music in every aspect of my life, including in the car, to having none.

It's crazy because I love music, all music.

I've started back with the orchestra and I am determined to play the Christmas concert.  I'm not consistent enough with practice attendance yet, but I'm getting there.  Still not sitting down at my piano.  (How I miss my piano students!)  I will, hopefully soon.  And I almost can't stand to have the radio on in my car...some days I can, some days I can't.

It's crazy how much my life has changed in a year.  The music is slowly coming back, which means so am I.

What's it like in Heaven?

Dear Lainey,

You've been gone for 10 long months.  I often hold our weighted Molly Bear before bed to feel you close to me.  It's been a long hard summer.  I welcome fall, it's my favorite time of the year.

I sometimes feel bitter that we didn't get to see you open your eyes or hear your voice.  When those thoughts come in I push them out, knowing Heavenly Father knows what is best for our family.

I cried the other night to Daddy about the sucky extra weight I have to lose!  I'd take it to have you, but it's just another cruel reality that you are gone.  I did all that, went through all that for what?  To give you back?  Frustrating for sure.

Daddy slept an entire night holding your Molly Bear.  I was so grateful, because he didn't hold you here on earth, he just couldn't.  He didn't hold your brother either, it's much too painful.  He suffers too, I forget that at times.

Often I go to bed hoping, wishing you'll visit me in my dreams.  I'd love to know what you are doing. I wonder if you are watching our life, maybe like in a football stand cheering us on, celebrating when we get something right.  I wonder if you are disappointed when we get it wrong, seems like we sure have gotten plenty wrong.

You are loved, you are missed, you are thought about and spoken of often.  

Love, Mommy

Getting better...but then there is this...

I think I may be on my way out of the postpartum thing.  Each day is a bit better, I feel a bit more productive, I feel stronger.  My job helps so much.  

The trouble is all of these dates are coming:

Sept. 14:  Lainey has been gone 10 months

Sept. 19, 2014:  1st home pregnancy test

Sept. 21, 2014:  23rd wedding anniversary

Sept. 23, 2014:  Dr's office, blood test, confirming pregnancy

Sept. 25, 2014:  First Ultra Sound of our sweet girl, confirming her outcome

Then the waiting.

October comes, along with that date:

October 26, 1993:  8 months pregnant with Ricky, Dr. Kay states, "At this time I feel as if the baby is dead". 

My Birthday, October 27, 1993:  I deliver our 6lb 3oz. son, still.  I hold him for only a brief moment and then he is gone.

October 30. 1993:  He is buried.

November 13, 2014:  My water breaks

November 14, 2014:  We welcome Lainey into our world at 12:41 am, she was born still.  At 9:30 that night I say my final goodbye.  It would be the last time I saw Lainey.

November 25, 2014:  We pick up Lainey from the funeral home and drive with her little closed casket to Maryland. 

Thanksgiving Day:  We take Lainey to her resting place where she is buried beside her big brother.

December 3 2014:  My due date

I've always been such a numbers person.  These dates just won't pass by unnoticed.  

I have such a firm testimony that God had greater plans for my children, and I've come to accept his will for them.  I can take comfort that they serve him in a higher capacity.  But if I were completely honest, sometimes those dates from 1993 get to me.  

My birthday:  the first birthday after Ricky died was awful, just awful (I'm afraid Thanksgiving will be much the same)  Each year I try to rise above it, some years I do, some years I don't.  Sometimes it's sparked by a conversation, or event.  Sometimes it's a quiet sorrow, other times it's a sorrow which cannot be hidden.   I just can't predict the grief.  

The anxiety about last Septembers dates have started, this year will be the worst September, because it's the year anniversary of finding out I was pregnant, it's the first ultra sound, it's the first doctors appointment.  I've stated multiple times that I get the plan and I do, but the grief takes over, sometimes I don't even recognize it right away.  

So, even though I'm getting better, there are many days ahead that will be difficult.  I'd only be kidding myself if I thought I'd be okay.  

You never forget the day your babies were born and you NEVER forget the day they die.