In all the ways I am changed, I honor him

Grief is hard work. I haven't blogged for the lat couple of weeks because I fell off the wagon. I stopped doing grief work. I didn't journal, or blog, or read. I neglected the tools I usually use for mental balance, oh and I was eating like shit. I am doing that seven week course on infant loss and grief, and well I am exhausted from grieving. It is hard work. But ignoring my grief work only made me feel worse. I once read a book about a girl who had Turrets, she described the overwhelming need to shout out and how exhausting it was to feel that way all day. Sometimes she would hold it in, trying to ignore it, but it would just build and build until the point where she literally felt she was going to implode and boom! She would shout at the top of her lungs, wondering why she ever even considered holding it in. Release. Oh yea, she was holding it in because she's exhausted. I have Turrets of the soul. Grief Turrets. And when I hold it in, it just builds and builds. I'm exhausted. Still, this week I decided to return to my practice, that while time consuming and energy consuming also give as much as they take. Consciousness and being present with my pain is not easy. It is so much easier to pretend I'm okay. But inside I am building and building up. Begging for release.

A friend once told me of a study she read where they explained why people slow down to look at car accidents. They mapped the brains of people and found that we don't slow down to stare at accidents on the side of the road because we are nosy or morbid, we have this built in impulse to look because our brains are trying to learn from it. We have this built mechanism to witness tragedy and to protect ourselves from it in the future. I think the need to talk about losing a child works similarly. At support group meetings we witness each other's wreckage, our heartbreaks and life changing accidents. We do this to learn from each other. Not to learn to not lose children in the future, but rather to learn everything we can about it right now so no matter what the future holds, we have learned something. I listen to some stories and think "I could never go through that" the same way I am sure someone thinks it about me. It forces you to unload some of your own pain and witness someone else's. It allows you to find some things to be grateful for in your own story, it teaches to cry with others through theirs. So I am not done retelling my story. I am not done learning from it or teaching from it. I "shouldn't" be over it by now. People who judge the status of my well being by pictures on Facebook, pictures of me smiling, and being a human being who feels a range of emotions, well I wish they would ask me how I am doing. But maybe it's easier to look at the pictures and say, oh good, she's fine, no need to check in with her. There will always be a need to check in with me. My baby died.

This weekend is the March of Dimes Walk. In our grief group we talked about honoring our children. We explored the reality that every time you do something in your life through the lens of your love for your child, your loss, being a parent, being someone who is changed, in those moments you honor your child. There are big public ways of honoring, like this walk. But there are also personal, daily ways. In every way you are changed and the decisions that come from that, you honor child. Wether it's made you a little kinder to your other children, a little more grateful to the people in your life, a little more humble about your place in the universe, a little more faith in your religious beliefs. All of it, any of it. You honor your child. Whenever I reach out and touch someone through the lens of my experience, I honor Mateo. And well in his honor I'd do anything, including keeping up and continuing to share with my grief work.

March of Dimes and things of a similar nature

Take in your grief in small workable pieces. One by one, piece by piece. For if you were to try and take it all in at once I believe you would go insane. Mad. Bonkers. So, in order to avoid pure unadulterated insanity, take in your grief in small workable pieces. Sit with each piece. Honor the first as much as the last. Every piece matters and deserves the time and respect of being processed. I think of the morning after Mateo passed away. If on that morning I could have truly wrapped my head around all of it, most of, more than my little piece, I'd never had made it. This method of healing is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it protects you from madness. A curse because at every turn it seems one uncovers a new piece. Whenever I start to come to terms with one facet of my pain another piece is released, ready to be sat with. It is exhausting. I want to stop uncovering pieces but if given the choice Ill take this path over denial or insanity.

This weekend a group of people who love me and I walked in the Central Florida March of Dimes 5k. I do not cease to be humbled by the outpouring of love and support from so many people. You know whats eye opening? The people I thought would be there for me have bowed out for many reasons. But so many more people have supported me in more ways than I can count. Thank You. You know who you are. I am eternally grateful. One of the surprising acts of support came from the Peace Corps staff in Peru. They raised more money than I would have ever asked for and on Saturday showed solidarity from Peru by wearing Team Mateo Shirts they made. Here is part of the letter I wrote in response..

Dear Carmen and Cuerpo de Paz Team Mateo

Thank you so much for the support. The walk on Saturday was moving and inspiring. Over 6,000 people came together in Orlando to walk in hopes of ending premature labor and infant death. I hope that in my lifetime I will witness the medical advancements necessary so that other mothers may be spared the loss of a child as I have endured. But even if science never catches up with nature, then at the very least I hope March of Dimes investment in education meets it halfway. Sometimes I am asked if anything good has come from this experience. There is nothing good about losing a baby. I cannot describe what it is like to watch your baby take his last breath. But there is something good about people. People who come together and hold me up when I cannot do it alone. Good people who honor baby Mateo whether its through sponsoring a walk or holding my hand. Thank you for your kindness. I feel like I gave so much of myself as a Peace Corps volunteer and I did with no expectations of what's in it for me? Having walked away from my service with such a wonderful support system through all of you teaches me that I underestimated the value of a giving heart shown through hard working hands. I gave of me, but I have gotten so much more in return, including all of your love. For that I am changed and forever grateful.

With a humble heart
Anita


Oh Life...


Sometimes, in the midst of working through frustrations, it's possible to glimpse the truth that, though I'm frustrated, not everything is frustrating. Sometimes, in the midst of sadness, it's possible to glimpse that, though I'm sad, not everything is sad. 

A Question to Walk With: Identify a mood of frustration or sadness that you are currently struggling with. Without denying or minimizing your frustration or sadness, let your mind and heart open beyond your struggle and describe, if you can, life around you that is not frustrating or sad. What does it feel like to allow both to take up space in your mind and heart at the same time?- Mark Nepo

Grief Inside, Love by my side

Your love creates your happiness. – The happiness you feel is in direct proportion to the love you give. When you love, you subconsciously strive to become better than you are. When you strive to become better than you are, everything around you becomes better too. During your youth, love will be your teacher; in your middle age, love will be your foundation; and in your old age, love will be your fondest memories and your greatest delight. (Read The Road Less Traveled)

This week I started going to a 7 week course offered by the hospital on grieving child loss, the HEAL Group. I was hesitant about signing up because I felt like it is geared towards couples, and I am not a couple. I am the only single mom in any of the support groups I attend, at least that I know of. But I decided to try any way and if I was really uncomfortable I just wouldn't go back. The day of the first class was so super hectic, I was late out of a previous meeting, I put the wrong address in the GPS, it was raining. I almost turned around and went home, telling myself you can do it the next time they offer it. But I made it. And when I sat down, all out of breath and stressed and tired and the man who hosts this group started to share what grief means to him, I could feel myself settling back into my body. Like a plant thirty for water, my cells perked up and pleaded for knowledge. My need to understand grief and how to live with it is insatiable. It being my silent life partner, sometimes taking up all the space in my mind, in the room, in the world. How do I live with something like that? So this man starts to describe grief as he sees it and has experienced it and cultivated a curriculum around it. And he describes grief as a wound. A wound I understand. My grief at first feeling exposed and raw and so incredibly painful, a gaping wound in my soul. So he asked, how do you treat a wound? You take care of it. You tend to it. You put medicine on it. The ultimate goal being- the smallest scar possible. Wounds heal, so therefore so can my grief. My grief might heal but I am and always will be undeniably scarred.

The question "How do you parent a child that is no longer with us?" Was asked. I am still a parent. I will always be Mateo's mother. To create a child, let him grow inside if you and have his needs be your needs, his life and development completely in your hands- that is parenting. I have mentioned before that just because my baby is gone doesn't mean my desire to be a mom is gone. I felt so validated when in the teacher made a comment almost verbatim. He followed it by asking How do you parent this child now that he's gone? This is what we will explore in this class.

This weekend I spent some time with a friend from the grief group. First of all, I have to say that apparently child loss only happens to the nicest people in the world. The couples who come into these meetings and groups, these women and men, I have yet to meet someone I did not think was painstakingly sweet. All of them. Every last one of them deserved their child, if kindness in your heart was the prerequisite for bringing your baby home. But nothing is owed to us, not even if you are the sweetest couple who has been trying for years, or the sweetest couple who had a wonderful surprise. All of these couples, excited, with nurseries decorated and baby showers thrown. The nicest people ever with the emptiest arms imaginable. So with that said, I spent some time with a friend I made through my support group. Most of her support system is in another state and we could both use some kinship. This week is especially hard for her and so her two best friends flew in from out of state to spend time with her. It was so incredibly sweet to witness. They love her so much. It is undeniable. They took the week off work to be by her side. To lay in bed with her and keep her company. How blessed she is to be loved so. I once read this article about elephants, when a baby elephant dies all the women in their group come together and surround the mother. They caress her with their trunks, they grieve with her and stand by her side for as long as she needs them. This is what that felt like. I am grateful to have been allowed into their circle and limited time together. I felt cared for by osmosis. It made me realize just how much you need people during your grief. People who want to do nothing but hold your hand and honor your loss with you. While no one is offering to spend a week in my company ( though I would welcome it) I do recognize all the ways people in my life have stood by my side. I have been shown love in so many different ways and my heart hurts with gratitude at the thought. I will add this weekend to the list. Maybe I didn't cultivate the kind if friendships where people lay in bed with me and hold my hand, and maybe I can try to be better in the future. Still I am loved in the ways that I am and I was reminded of just how important it is to have women by your side.

Heart to Heart Resuscitation and other things I hardly do but want to

"Everything that happens helps you grow, even if it’s hard to see right now. Circumstances will direct you, correct you, and perfect you over time. So whatever you do, hold on to hope. The tiniest thread will twist into an unbreakable cord. Let hope anchor you in the possibility that this is not the end of your story – that the change in the tides will eventually bring you to peaceful shores."

Yesterday I spent some time with a group of powerful women who come together for what they called "heart to heart resuscitation". It was wonderful. It was one of those moments in time when you feel connected to the universe and you know you are right where you should be, in the company of strong women, good food and great conversation.

So this morning when I woke up I did something I hardly ever do, I prayed. I thanked the universe for all of its glory and I asked to be touched by it today. I am in the process of processing my hurt around Mateo's father and creating a path towards forgiveness. I get overwhelmed at the thought of starting that process. I get even more overwhelmed at the thought of never doing it.

I also did something else I hardly ever do, I cried, with others. I cried with this couple who lost their baby a week a go and shared their story at our support group. I tried to remember what I felt like 4 months ago, a week out of Mateo passing away. I was a zombie. A fucking zombie. I don't know how I made it past the first week, the first month. I am sure at some point I will add the first year, until eventually I stop measuring the time and then it just becomes- I don't know how I made it past the death of my baby, but I did. So I cried with this couple. I shared in their grief, I allowed myself to feel it and to be connected in this way I have not been able to before. When I tell my Mateo story I do not cry. I do not break down in front of people, I often wish I could. I wish the tears would just stream down my face and I could ask someone to hold me, to grieve with me. I may not be ready to be that vulnerable with my grief but I think it was a real breakthrough to share in someone else's today. Maybe the Universe heard my prayer after all.

I feel like the gravity of what it means to lose a child slowly leaks into my consciousness. If I were to feel it all at once, I am sure my heart would explode. Actually I am certain I would have killed myself. If I would have woken up the morning after Mateo and fully felt the magnitude of what it means that your baby is gone, I would have joined him. I think the mind and the body have instinctual ways of self preservation. They want to survive even if your baby didn't. So little by little I come to understand and to really feel what it means to not have Mateo in my arms. I watched his sonogram DVD for the first time recently. I wanted to see him, to hear his heartbeat. I didn't meltdown. Four months since you lost a child is really not a very long time. I don't know if any amount ever will be, but I can feel that four months might as well be 4 days when it comes to missing him. And yet in 4 months I have taught myself to walk into my grief, to not run from it, to be as present as my mind and my body will allow me to be.

You mustn’t befrightened

if a sadness

rises in front of you,

larger than any you’ve ever seen;

if an anxiety,

like light and cloud-shadows,

moves over your hands and over

everything you do.

You must realize that something is

happening to you,

that life has not forgotten you,

that it holds you in its hand

and will not let you fall.

                       Rainer Maria Rilke

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but thoughts are what really hurts me

I was recently reading a blog (http://www.marcandangel.com) I go to at times for inspiration and I came across this message

"Yes, there are lots of inherent events in life that occur completely independently of you – birth, death, loss, sickness, aging, and unexpected changes of all kinds – but these life events do not have to cause ongoing confusion and suffering.  They happen, you experience a little stress, you adjust, and you move forward.  The problem occurs when you don’t adjust and move forward, when your mind clings to these events in a negative light and intensifies their significance into perpetuity.  If your mind does this, of course, it completely overlooks the subtle feelings of excitement, adventure, love, and joy that come from the essence of overcoming a new challenge."

While there is a lot of wisdom in these word and some things I really appreciate, I am first going to point out that calling those life events "a little stressful" is obviously minimizing. The death of a loved one causes more than a little stress. I have a little stress when I am running late for a meeting. I am internally shattered at the loss of my baby. Still I was able to read between the lines and take away a couple of really helpful things from this post. One of them being the fact that you allow your mind to turn your pain, your grief and your loss into a state of perpetual agony. I told someone recently that I do not want sadness and grief to be what connects Mateo, I want love to be. Oh, the thought of being perpetually shattered. It is just that, a thought. Everything we are is thought.

Lately I have been struggling with anger. I once told someone I don't do anger. I don't allow myself to get angry. They told me, that just means " you do anger, you just don't do anger very well". While a rude thing to say, it was also very honest. I do not do anger very well. And as long as I keep saying that, and thinking that then that will always be true. I have been exploring different ways to work through that hurt. I have the things that always help, writing and talking it out with a friend. I am trying to tie in physical activity and maybe thinking through some new ways to get things out. A friend who is a dancer was telling me about the connection between therapy and dance, and how it is used as a medium for everything from physical health to mental health. I might not be ready to dance my heart out but I am open to creative and artistic ways of expressing my pain. I may not dance very well, but I gotta be better at that then I am at anger.

The second thing I really liked from this post was the reminder to not miss out on excitement, adventure, love and joy. I have a picture of myself with a good friend hanging on my bedroom mirror. In this picture I am being hugged tightly, my eyes are closed and I am laughing incredibly hard. I remember how I felt that day. I look at that picture every day and wonder if I will ever close my eyes and throw my head back and laugh like that again. Maybe not like that. I can't go back. But can I laugh with every cell in my body the way I grieve with every cell? I am so easily emotionally winded. I will be fine one moment and with just the slightest provocation I am set off to shut down. The slightest thing has me recoiling and wishing for shelter, for the comfort of my bed. The silence and solitude. Neutral ground. The trouble is that in the safe places there is no laughing so hard with my eyes closed that I can hardly stand it. 

The same blog post also had this quote:

 “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”  ―Anaïs Nin 

"Your life will begin to improve when you define precisely what ‘improve’ means to you.  The agonies and frustrations will start to ease only when you have something real and positive to replace them with.  Be specific.  Happiness is not a goal, it’s the result of a life well lived.  The question is:  How do you want to live going forward?"

What does improve mean to me? I can't improve death. I cannot make the undead happen. What can I make happen? The line that really struck me was " the agonies and frustrations will ease only when you have something real and positive to replace them with" Now I had to sit this for a moment. My first thought was, I can't replace Mateo. But this isn't asking me to consider that. It is saying the agony and frustration around losing him will start to ease when I redirect myself in a real and positive way. Nothing I do can replace my little guy. Not even having more children. I am not trying to replace him. I am trying to replace the pain. He is mine forever. all the anger and frustration and pain from his loss, I don't want to hold on to them as tightly as I hold on to him. They aren't a packaged deal. So, what positive, real, and specific things am I redirecting my life towards? For one, personal growth. I am being proactive in my grief. Doing as the Buddha advised and instead of hiding from it, I am walking right into it. I am also exploring new ways of growing. Meditating. Sharing my pain with others- this is a hard one for me. Allowing the people closest to me so see me as vulnerable and letting them care for me. This is why I am doing this walk on the 27th for the March of Dimes with friends instead of alone. Really working on those relationships new and old so that I can be sustained through my pain and be there for others in theirs. I am also challenging myself to try new things. Really random things. Calligraphy class. A summer kickball league. I am not looking to just fill my time for the sake of it, or as a way to never be alone with my thoughts. I am challenging myself to come out of my comfort zone in such a way that I can't help but grow. I am taking things I find challenging, or have always said I am not good at, or I could never do that, and saying I might as well as try. I might as well try and grow, try to figure out how I want to live going forward? I know what I don't want, but I'll never know what I do until I attempt to live a life after child loss.

"This moment – right now – is your life.  Say yes to it.  Don’t ignore it by pretending that you’re living in some other time and place.  You aren’t – doing so is impossible.  The only life you can live is the only life there is – the moment you are in right now.  Ignoring this fact is reckless.  Ignoring it is denying reality, and denying reality is rejecting the entire process of living."

The Buddhist way of grieving; My journey of the living

Ill start this post of by explaining that I am not Buddhist. I do not practice any organized religion, I do not claim a belief system or a spiritual code of conduct. If there is a God we are not on speaking terms. I know God is where many people who have gone through child loss find comfort and solace. God is where many people turn for any type of grief. I respect others beliefs and when people offer me blessings or prayers I accept them with an open heart, what could it hurt to have someone pray on your behalf? When advice about how I shouldn't be worried or sad,  Mateo is now with God, is given, I usually think " I am not worried about where Mateo is now, I'm upset about where he isn't- here with me"  Where he is now brings me no comfort, but I know people share these thoughts from a place of faith. They believe. They see something I do not and feel something I do not. Their faith is as real to them as my reality is to me. Ok, all this to say that despite not being Buddhist, I have had some interesting experience with Buddhism I want to share.

There is a Buddhist Temple close to my house and I was recently invited to go and participate in an open house with Valencia Community College. It was a fun night, the stories were so interesting and the food was great. We sampled the different activities available at the temple, we had a mini tea ceremony and did a little meditation. One of the things we did that I had never done before and enjoyed was Calligraphy. To the Chinese, Calligraphy is an art form and a way of meditation. I enjoyed it so much that I decided to go back this week for one of their free classes. While waiting for the class to the start one of the Venerables of the Temple and I were talking and I decided to ask her what Buddhist belief about grief. She said she had never been asked that question before, stood up and said she would be back with an answer. About 20 minutes later she came back and sat with me again. After having looked into it for me she said there is not a lot of information on grief in Buddhism because Buddhists do not grieve. You create your grief  from your your want and need, you create your suffering, as Buddhists we do not create this condition of grief. Honestly when she said it I felt like she was as comforting as the people who tell me to offer my grief up to God. When I am not being advised to give my grief away, I am told I can just not have it. Oh!

I left ther wanting to know more about where the Venerable was coming from. One of my favorite Grief Books is called Grieving Mindfully, and incorporates Buddhist Teachings into a way of grieving.  I love this book so much because it focuses on using your grief as a way to recreate yourself and your life. Whenever people tell me everything happens for a reason, I try to let them know that I do not believe that's true. I stopped believing that when my friend Andre died. There is no way anyone will ever convince me he died for a reason. Period. What I do believe is that you can make a reason out of everything. So instead of it being cause and effect, it is open to interpretation, to your creation. I look at Andre's mother and I see a perfect example of creating purpose out of losing
her son. She finds ways to honor him. He didn't die so charities could be started in his name. He died and his mother was moved to find ways to honor him and keep his passions alive. For me it is a little different. I do not know what Mateo would have loved, been passionate about. I will not assume that he would have been proud of me for this or that. I give back in ways that are tangible. To the Ronald McDonald House where I stayed when he was in the hospital. To the March of Dimes who gave me money and supplies when I needed it most. I can give to these places and find ways to create purpose from my pain. The part about recreating my life through my grief is a work in progress. I just got to the chapter called "The Transformative Search for Meaning Through Grief". I may be at that chapter in the book, I am not always sure what chapter I am in life.

I did find this great story about child loss and Buddha. The story goes like this

Kisa Gotami had an only son, and he died. In her grief she carried the dead child to all her neighbors, asking them for medicine, and the people said: "She has lost her senses. The boy is dead. At length Kisa Gotami met a man who replied to her request: "I cannot give thee medicine for thy child, but I know a physician who can." The girl said: "Pray tell me, sir; who is it?" And the man replied: "Go to Sakyamuni, the Buddha."

Kisa Gotami went to the Buddha and cried: "Lord and Master, give me the medicine that will cure my boy." The Buddha answered: "I want a handful of mustard-seed." And when the girl in her joy promised to procure it, the Buddha added: "The mustard-seed must be taken from a house where no one has lost a child, husband, parent, or friend." Poor Kisa Gotami now went from house to house, and the people pitied her and said: "Here is mustard-seed; take it!" But when she asked Did a son or daughter, a father or mother, die in your family?" They answered her: "Alas the living are 
few, but the dead are many. Do not remind us of our deepest grief." And there was no house, some beloved one had died in all of them.

I also found a poem I found touching

Sakka the chief of gods came down to earth and proceeding to the place where a body was burning upon a pile of firewood, inquired from those standing around whether they were roasting the flesh of some animal. When they replied, "It is no enemy but our own son." "Then he could not have been a son dear to you," said Sakka. "He was a very dear son," replied the father. "Then," asked Sakka, "why do you not weep?" The father in reply uttered this stanza:

 "Man quits his mortal frame, when joy in life is past.

Even as a snake is wont its worn out slough to cast.

No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.

Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."

Similar questions were asked from the dead son's mother who replied thus:

 "Uncalled he hither came, unbidden soon to go.

Even as he came he went, what cause is here for woe?

No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.

Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."

"Sisters surely are loving to their brothers. Why do you not weep?" asked Sakka of the dead man's sister. She replied:

 "Though I should fast and weep, how would it profit me?

My kith and kin alas would more unhappy be.

No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.

Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."

Sakka then asked the dead man's wife why she did not weep. She replied thus:

 "As children cry in vain to grasp the moon above,

So mortals idly mourn the loss of those they love.

No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.

Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."

Lastly Sakka asked the maid-servant why she did not weep, especially as she had stated that the master was never cruel to her but was most considerate and kind and treated her like a foster child. This was her reply:

 "A broken pot of earth, ah, who can piece again?

So too, to mourn the dead is nought but labor vain.

No friends' lament can touch the ashes of the dead.

Why should I grieve? He fares the way he had to tread."

Grief does not change you, It reveals you

Grief does not change you... It reveals you.”--John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)

I have been keeping busy. I do things it seems all of the time these days. I haven't had as much time to sit in silence and with my grief lately. It doesn't mean I need to any less these days, I just haven't been as good at managing my time. When I don't spend time with my thoughts, my feelings, my pain it crawls up in other places, in other spaces. It is strange to be in this transitionary period. It is as though my life is holding its breath and waiting on my cue to exhale. Where do I go now? Who am I now? What do I do with my life when I can't trust it anymore? I spent some time with a15 year old this weekend. He seemed so alive, so energetic. He made a joke about being able to outrun danger. He feels invincible. He lives without fear of mortality. I live with enough of it for both of us, for all of us.

A little while ago I blogged about The Five Things, I started with I'm Sorry, and then I Forgive You. Today I will share number three I Love You

Dear Mateo,

I love you. I love you with depth I never knew possible. Every cell in my body loves you. My whole entire being, everything I am and ever will be loves you. Truly, deeply loves you. To be connected to someone at this level, at this physical level- my body is your body. To be connected at the spiritual level- your being created in my being. When I held you in my arms, for the first time, for the last time, I was overcome with love. It didn't matter that I was holding you as you were dying, I was holding you and it was glorious. I want to envelop myself in this love. I want to build a house in it and reside there. I want to create from the love I have for you. I will never love anyone the way I love you. Our love has a unique fingerprint. Cannot be replicated or replaced. Our love is our own. You are the love of my life my little guy....

Grief does not change you. It reveals you. I am being revealed. Unraveled in front of the world. On display and being asked to prove- what kind of person do you become when you are faced with loss of such magnitude? What kind of person am I to get out of bed every day? To not join my son? What kind of person when shattered, attempts to recreate something from the broken pieces? I am now made up of broken pieces. What kind of person does grief reveal me to be? I cannot say yet. I am being revealed minute by minute and when it is all said and done I hope to be able to be proud of the person I've created, piece by painstaking piece.