What About Now?

Uncle Jake takes one for the team as Spencer plows a pie into his face on Pie Day 3.14.15

When I was 27 weeks pregnant with Logan, I slipped on the ice and tore the ACL in my right knee. Well, needless to say, I was never graceful to start out with (obviously) so crutches took some extra effort, then add to the mix a gravity defying pregnant belly, a 15 month old Spencer, a 3 year old Alex, and an absentee husband (Russ was working for the SLC Olympics DURING the Olympics) and you get a REAL party (like it’s 1999 baby)!

During this time of (cough cough) “healing” I found myself propped up in a leather-lazy-boy recliner, a bag of ice resting on my knee, while I attempted to maintain the routine of “rocking” (oops) Spencer before sleepy time, while Russ put Alex to bed. Eventually Spence finished his bottle and settled like a cuddly little tree monkey against my shoulder and conked out. I remember smelling his just washed hair and sighing contentedly, just before he (wait for it) arched his back and threw up ALL OVER ME (uh…remember he was cuddled on my shoulder….so the direct target would be….? )

While calling for help (no response), I pulled off Spencer’s pajamas, and used his blanket to hastily wipe off my face. I handed him his binky and shifted him to my other side where he INEXPLICABLY went back to sleep. At first my continued cries for backup were like soft kitten mewing sounds, because I didn’t want to wake up Spencer…but as time marched on, and the melted ice dripped down my leg, the dead weight of Spencey cut off my blood flow, the need to pee became the sole thought thumping like a heart beat in my brain and, oh wait! -I was COVERED IN VOMIT and couldn’t move- my pleas got increasingly louder. I could hear Russ snoring in Alex’s room, (he was exhausted) and was SHOCKED when my full out eventual RANTING didn’t rouse him (or Spencer). As impatience, frustration and even panic begin setting in (all while I starred numbly at a Mighty Bullet infomercial … did I forget to mention I’d dropped the remote?) I may have whispered pathetically into the dark, “Someone will find your body eventually. There will be a proper burial. Lassie will go for help!”  I knew I’d be okay, but in those heavy, moments waiting for the sunrise, I remember thinking, “But how do I get through now?”


This photo was taken on a freezing morning one week before Logan was born at a Torch Light Parade
During the 2002 Winter Games in SLC. (As a side not since Logan was born during the Olympics,
Russ told the nurse as a joke that we were naming him Olympius Thor.
Don't worry. We had to change the birth certificate). 


My childhood friend’s mother is dying of cancer and she feels swallowed up by anxiety as she watches powerlessly. She wants to stall the creeping death and give her mother hope, but feels like she keeps falling short of the mark. She’s caught in a collapsed blanket hut of grief, and the stiches are tight with no weak spots in the seams. I watch her searching for a hole in the fabric so she can poke out a finger and let somebody know she’s there (I see you).

“What about now?” I imagine her saying. “How do we get through now?”

Another friend is courageously facing postpartum depression.

A family I love is working to absorb the tragic death of their daughter.

And my oldest son faces daily debilitating depression and despair (and he will also tell you if you ask, “Murderous rage” but the alliteration with the d words is a much nicer fit right?).

Sunset in Jackson .... would like to get through a few more of these (What about NOW? Yes please!) 2015

What about now?

We lost our first baby 23 weeks into my pregnancy, it happened so fast. Within a matter of hours life slipped seamlessly from me, like a ghost disappearing, smoke dissipating, and I was left bereft, 22 and barely able to wrap my mind around what had just happened. I remember laying on the floor of the bedroom that would have been our child’s nursery and feeling crushed by the weight of remorse, every breath I tried to find seemed lost in some black empty place that used to hold my heart. I hated that I couldn’t escape. I hated the feeling of waking up and remembering my life had derailed, and I was making my way through carnage. I was just a girl, barely older than a toddler and I thought I could cheat grief; so I got pregnant with Alex (against medical advice) six weeks after losing out first son. I was so young. I didn’t know grief was patient. That it bided it’s time. That it waits like a hungry panther; white teeth shining in the shadows.

Now that I’m barely older than a school girl, I’ve learned we all have moments of angst. No one escapes this life without being ravaged a time or two. We all have days (Months…years…eek!!!) When Lassie gets distracted by the hot Pug around the corner and never makes it back to the well with help. We have all spent time underwater, wondering if we will ever feel the earth beneath our feet again.

So what about now?

What about when you wave your white flag; your muscles fail, when you have no words but no one accepts your offer of defeat? The rhino charges anyway?



This picture I took after I had spend the ENTIRE night bawling pathetically
(Day 28 with a VENGENCE coupled with a long drive, no sleep, a walk into a wall -literally- and a fever) 
but in the morning I got up, and went for a long run in the misty mountain tops.
It reminds me of the Psalm, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."
When I look at this picture I feel resilient.  2014



How do we get through? Well one thing I’ve learned is that’s just it… you have to get through it, there is no skulking around it, and even if you try, even if you think you’ve cheated grief/anger/resentment/heartache it will just rear its ugly head again. You have to wade through your Red Sea one baby step at a time.

And HOW, you want to know, do you wade from the fetal position? (Have you heard of the front crawl?) Well, this is a blog, not (alas) a dissertation. But here are some things that have helped me:

Stay positive, which is admittedly, easier said than done. Being positive includes being grateful for what you have. I love moments when the prism through which I see life shifts and everything changes. I vividly remember having just come home from the hospital where I’d had yet another IV rehydrating session because I was unexpectedly expecting Logan, and couldn’t keep ANYTHING down. I was feeling lower than low and certainly justified in my self-pity. I got home just in time to attend a women’s meeting. I entered the building rubbing the sore spot on my hand where the student nurse had tried eight times to get an IV started, and stopped by the bathroom on the way in to throw up what? Saline solution?!! Part of the meeting included a video on Humanitarian Aid, and in the footage there was a refugee woman who was trying to feed her dehydrated child. He was too weak to suck, so she cupped gruel in her empty hand and tried to pour it into his open mouth. I looked at this mother sitting in the dirt, a dusty rag tied around her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she tried to save the life of her child. Watching this changed me.  Gratitude for all I had split me apart. My whole perspective shifted, and even though my pregnancy with Logan continued to miserable right up until delivery, I felt grateful to have access to so much care and support. Gratitude became an island in my sea of sorrow.
 

Um, hanging at the Ocean with my friend is something I can feel positive about.
(That and not breaking my ankle when I landed made me feel even better) 2015

 

Learn to laugh, this has been hands down the saving grace in my life. I live in a world of black and white thinkers, Alex especially is very literal and he struggles with being happy. The other morning I greeted him as he padded down the stairs saying, “Good morning Alex, how are you feeling today?” He answered, “I’m really struggling with feelings of murderous rage right now.” “Well, remind me not to stand by the kitchen knives!” I replied. “Why?” Alex wanted to know. And so began the daily ritual we’ve been doing since he was a little boy, it’s a game called, “It’s a little bit funny and here’s why” where we try to teach him how to infuse hues of color into his world colored midnight.  Humor is infectious, when laughter is shared it binds people together. Laughter has been scientifically proven to strengthen your immune system, boost your energy, diminish pain and protect you from the damaging effects of stress. So go to a comedy club, watch a funny show, read the comics, hangout with your kids, because it turns out laughter really is the best medicine.

Take a pause. Step back and look at the big picture. (Observe the situation as an outsider). Focus on what’s working and set small achievable goals (today I will shower :) and only eat ONE tub of ice cream). Recognize how far you’ve come (Yesterday I showered too :). I tend to default to how far we have to go, instead of celebrating the mileage we’ve covered and believe me -especially when it comes to Autism- mileage covered is hard earned and SHOULD be celebrated! Like confetti guns and blow horns celebrated! (Um, scratch that, too stimulating! Brownies alone in the closet works too!). Take a moment in your ocean of anguish to dog paddle, to float on your back so you can take stock of the situation. Make a plan. Decide on an escape route. Get your bearings, take a deep breath, tighten your life jacket, and then dig into to the waves.



Sometimes denial tastes like a waffle from the BKK airport.... mmmmm sugar! 2014

 

Denial. I am a fan of denial. Now simmer down, this isn’t to say you should just ignore a problem, but sometimes you can get so absorbed in the grieving of grief (the action of it, grief as a verb) that you are rendered catatonic. I remember when Alex was first diagnosed with autism I spent HOURS and HOURS and HOURS researching cures and behavior modification, causes, IEPs and websites for adults with autism. I was overwhelmed by the amount of information I had to digest, so much so that I choked. I had to detach to be able to function on a guttural level. To be able to do laundry and make sack lunches and read bedtime stories and work. Now, did my spending the afternoon getting a pedicure and reading in the parking lot instead of going into the lecture on “Social Stories for Beginners” ruin anything? No. But ignoring the elephant in the room, for just a few glorious moments, allowed me enough time to gather some more straw (because elephants eat A LOT duh!). Denial goes along with thinking in small sips, because when you are in a crisis situation you can’t gulp or you’ll choke. You must sip like a fine lady, pinkies out. I also like to lie to myself, for example, every morning when I’m dragging myself out of bed I think, “Don’t worry. You can take a nap later.” Of course I never do, (and I even know when I think it that I won’t) but that white lie never fails to get me on my feet.

Learn from the past. This one takes some doing, (and it can be a bit painful) but it’s huge. Until we can improve on yesterday we really are just spinning our wheels and not making any forward progress.  Sadly, you can’t change a situation you don’t take responsibility for. Now there are plenty of situations that you did not cause, but of no fault of your own, becomes a problem you’re left to deal with. For example, in the airline industry, a passenger might come to me with trouble checking in for their flight and looking at their computer record I realize their whole itinerary has been mistakenly cancelled. Did I cause the problem? Nope. But is it my problem to fix? Yep. Will ranting that I didn’t cause the problem help anybody? Nope. Especially because the person standing in front of me didn’t cause the problem either. NOW, I have learned to (sometimes begrudgingly) recognize my part of the dysfunction in issues that occur closer to home. For example: No. I don’t have autism.  Alex is the one melting down on aisle five. Yes. This is HIS behavior not mine.  But I might be the one adding too many things to Alex’s plate. I might have been distracted by the lipsticks on clearance and missed his low moans signaling we needed to high tail it out of the store.  I’ve had to learn once the dust settles to dissect the tornado and recognize the signs of impending storms. I’ve had to change my behavior in conjunction with his behavior even though I have never had a problem with, for instance, screaming, “I DON’T CARE ABOUT FREAKING PIE DAY!!” at the sample lady in Costco (As a side note something helpful I have learned from Alex is how to avoid eye contact. This skill has served me well).  Another part of learning from the past is looking for patterns. We all have soothing rituals of behavior (comfort zone) we want to slip back into when experiencing uncomfortable situations or change. I’m not a huge fan of confrontation or feeling like someone is upset with me, so I have a default setting of undoing all the good I’ve done by being honest and setting boundaries (no, I’m too busy to host the PTA bake off) by then jumping back on the phone and offering to run the book sale instead. I know this about myself, which is why I have to give my phone to Logan and tell him he can play Minecraft until the battery dies after I tell someone no. Avoiding eye contact also works well in conjunction with PTA presidents :) which I’ve been one so simmer down!

The boys jumping in the waves of Mission Beach in San Diego over spring break. Alex rarely made it off the ground
but offered his brothers a stabilizing force as they caught air. 2015

 

Take action. If you are in a particularly bad place you must prioritize self-care. You can’t be dealing with the tip of the Maslow’s pyramid of needs when you base is crumbling. (Or help anyone with any of their needs for that matter either). Things that have helped me? Get outside. Go for a walk, a hike a drive.  Attempt to create balance (I know, I know, insert maniacal laughter). And if you are feeling particularly brave, choose to embrace the thing you fear, and you might be surprised to realize that while you might be David with your puny sling shot facing the Goliath in your life,  that giants can be taken down with even the smallest of well-aimed stones. Forward movement always feels better after a period of being stagnant.

Forgive. Be kind to yourself and recognizing that some days your best effort and the most courageous thing you will do is to get out of bed (let your kids out of the locked closet), and continue breathing out. Forgive others.  Martin Luther King said, “We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this we are less prone to hate our enemies.”  I know especially when we have been hurt deeply, it’s a hard task to accomplish, but in my own life, I’ve found when I don’t forgive, it’s like I’ve downed three vials of poison and thought the other person would die. Mark Twain said, (and as a side note the poetic nerd in me loves this) “Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”

 

My parents are some of my favorite (sorry) people to ask for (plead beg) help! 2015
 

Ask for help. As a rule I suck at this. I would 1000 times rather help than be helped. BUT I have been blessed (1000 times over!) with some good to their marrow souls in my life who I’ve been able to share my story with, who have lifted, supported and carried me –I know! I know! It burns! (This topic deserves a whole blog post, or perhaps a dissertation). I love the quote, “I’ll lift thee, and you lift me, and we’ll ascend together.”

Being Willing This is something I learned from watching my mother. You have to be willing to believe you can do what you think you cannot. My mother’s favorite catch phrase is, “How hard can it be?” She taught me when times were tough, you must be tougher, that mindset is half the battle and pain is part of life and helps you grow. From her I learned you can let a situation strengthen and define you or destroy you.  Being willing means you try, but with all of your heart, try.  It’s digging in, it’s going full throttle. Being willing to me, is when you look at the marathon runner who’s standing next to you in a race your friends signed you up for as an April Fool’s day joke and even though you know you are wearing heels and haven’t ran since you chased your toddler across Chick-Fila (because, duh, he was spilling all your fries) in 2004. BUT, you look Jesse Owen’s in the eye anyway, take in the length of the track, assume the position and say to him, “I’ll see you at the finish line!”    

 

The strongest most capable woman I know. (That's A LOT of pressure mom!) 2015

Faith. To me, this is the most important thing to have in your bag of tricks when wondering, “How do I get through now.”  Hope that at some point the sun will rise (it always does) the tide will recede (laws of nature) and as unimaginable as it may seem when darkness seems to stretch like thick wool across everything you hold dear, that you will be ok. Birds sing in the pre-dawn dark because they aren’t burdened down by fear. They know the light will come. Plants grow through concrete. And husband’s eventually roll off of race car toddler beds, and prove their worth by not complaining when you press your vomit crusted hair into their chest, or confess between sobs that you ordered five Mighty Bullets while he carries you (light as a feather) to the tub. 

 

Spencer wears triumph well! 2015