9 Months, really!

I wanted to take a look back at what my life has become living in grief.  Marcellus's 9 month anniversary of his death (or passing depending on who I am talking to) just came to pass yesterday.  The week leading up to it was hard on me.  I have had multiple days where I felt despair and general sadness infiltrate my entire life.  I suffered from lack of motivation, moments of pure sadness, and at points just stared into the distance disconnected from everything around me.  This was all leading up to yesterday, his 9 month.  Some arbitrary anniversary I have deemed as a milestone.  In reality it was just another day.  But I chose to treat it as the milestone it is.  I have learned that it helps to do something meaningful for someone on these anniversaries.  So I gave blood again.  Just like his 3 month and his 6 month.  And I will again on his one year.  I got real nervous and did not want to go but I did.  Because really, I stayed when he died, I have faced the most terrible and horrible thing a person can face and that is their childs death.  I can handle a blood donation.  But I could not handle his time of death, it still gets me after nine months.  I took a nap so I would not be awake for it.   I just did not want to see 12:43 pm pass on the 9th of the month pass this time.  The anniversary continued with my wife and I spending time together finding bears to send to a friend so she can donate to Molly Bears.  We were able to go shopping (and get ice cream) on his anniversary of his passing.  8 months ago we barely got out of bed.  We have come a long way. 

And that is what living with grief is like, a realization that you are living and making it, even though it is so damn hard everyday you are doing it.   There are good days mixed in here, a lot more 'meh' or mediocre days than actual good days but they exist.  But the bad days never leave, and sometimes the bad days turn into a bad week.  And you ride it through and say 'well that sucked' but you are able to ride them out, which is a miracle in its own way.  Just like grief will deliver me countless bad days for the rest of my life, its just the nature of the condition, it will allow me to enjoy the good days as well. 

One major reason why I can enjoy a good day is seeing my wife smile, and hearing her laughter.  It is so wonderful to see her when she is happy.  It lifts me up so much more than she knows.  I know its a conditional happiness, there is pain behind the smile but she lets her happiness through instead of quelling it like we have done for so long these past months.  I just hope one day I can see the smile I saw when she was with Marcellus.

Failure

I have not been around lately nor felt the need to blog/write.   Not that I am not grieving, I am.  Not always actively grieving but still passively grieving.  I visit grief every time I see a family with a baby or small boy.  I grieve whenever I see pictures of him that are posted all around the house.  I grieve when I talk to friends or family.  I grieve when I smile or feel happiness.  Mostly I grieve my son not being here, silent grief that seeps in my head at any given moment.  I dont talk about it much anymore, but I am pretty much grieving him at any given moment in my day.  I grieve him listening to music, I grieve him doing work in the house, I grieve him reading a book.  I grieve him running.   I grieve him working.  I am still very much grieving for my son. 

Sometimes I feel like I grieve because I believe I failed him.  This is a recurrent issue with my grief that I have not come to terms with nor do I want to at this point.  I failed my son, I failed to keep him safe, to keep him alive.  I know that there was not much I was able to do for him in the first place but there is always something.  SOMETHING could have saved him, and I did not find it.  As a father I did not do what I should have done.  Researched more, asked more questions, wondered why his bowel moments were always so runny, asked why it took so long to have one.  A tie could have been made to a sick bowel and I could have asked them to look into it and maybe he would still be here.  I failed him when I sat by his isolette on the 9th and the chaplain is telling me that my despair is clouding the positive feelings we needed to be giving him.  Why couldn't I be more hopeful?  Why did I shut down so quickly.  I failed him as I stood by watching him being loaded into a hearse that was way too oversized for his tiny white casket by only a couple pallbearers.  I failed my family as the tears fell for my sweet boy.  Sure everyone says its not my fault and I did everything I could for him and I believe that but I still failed to keep him alive. 

I dont watch his video's, I can look at pictures of him because they are still.  But anything that shows him living its too hard to watch.  I remember his second ultrasound watching the chambers of his heart and thinking to myself that when I look at my son throughout my life I can think back to the time I saw into his heart.  Now that heart beats no more, it lies with him in his grave never to beat again.  How can such a strong heart give out like that?  I wish so very much I could see it beating again.   I have a recording of his heartbeat on my phone, such a wonderful recording I will keep forever yet it stabs deeply whenever I hear it. 

I dont know if I will ever get over feeling like I failed him, especially when I see so many people with their living children, reminders of that one sticking thought I deal with.  Im sorry Marcellus, Im sorry for not doing enough to keep you alive, I am sorry I failed you.  I love you so much please forgive me.

Some things on my mind

My head feels like it has been pulled in a million directions lately.  So many new things are happening it is hard to comprehend them all and do the things necessary to get them done.  For instance, I have my skills evaluation to be a CNA in a week and a half.  Back in November I was confident that I could pass these skills since I was doing so well in the class. Now however I am nervous as hell because what if I crumble under anxiety because I have not done them since.  I am practicing them and studying but I lack the confidence needed to complete them efficiently and correctly (I have only 30 minutes).  IF I pass I can become a CNA and change jobs which will be a good thing for me.  I am terribly miserable at my job now, I feel so out of place and unnoticed.  I walk around invisible being forced to interact constantly with customers who have no idea I am a father to a beautiful boy.  No one talks to me there, no one cares for me.  I just want to scream and run out the door everyday I am there. 

And Sunday is Fathers Day, a day which I am not looking forward to.  I am trying not to dwell on the day in general but it still finds its way into my thoughts constantly.  Marcellus will never get me a Fathers Day card, someday my hopeful future children will but he can never do that for me.  It all boils down to he will never be able to hug me and tell me "happy Fathers Day daddy!" In a voice I have no idea what would sound like.  Fathers Day will be hard, I may write more on it separately.

I also am much more fragile emotionally than I once thought.  The past few days I have been absorbed in my best friend from college's wedding that I have lost track of my own grief.  I am the best man in this wedding to reciprocate for him being the best man in mine.  He lives across the country and I have not seen him since... last summer I believe.  I have not seen him since we had Marcellus.  I am so worried he will not accept me as a grieving parent and grieving friend.  That I have changed too much for his liking.  I hope he can accept me for what I am now and I can put my emotions aside and embrace his wedding as a joyful, happy time. 

All this boils down into the avocado incident and my emotions.  There have been isolated incidents where my wife or I have lashed out on anything close to vent the anger that boils inside us at any given moment.  Traveling home from dropping my wife off at school I merged left onto a highway and in front of a truck speeding in the left lane, this truck then had to slow down as I occupied their space to speed ahead of the traffic group.  I moved to the right lane as soon as possible but not soon enough for this group of guys because they made sure to tailgate me and give me the bird.  An event that makes anyone upset on the road but it made me sad.  I felt terrible that these group of random people were so infuriated at me that they would do such a thing.. do they not know that I am fragile emotionally?  Do they not care?  So when I did arrive home I was hungry and I thought my avocado was ripe enough to eat.  Well when I cut into it I could tell it was not, faced with the possibility of wasting the avocado or trying to continue to make my sandwich I decided on the latter.  But the pit was not cooperating with me and it was really difficult to get out.  I then left that for later and grabbed the other half and tried to cut my slices out but they too were too difficult.  My misjudgement led to anger and I took my knife and sent pieces of avocado flying all over the kitchen as I brutally hacked it in an angry rage.  I immediately felt remorseful for my actions, and for wasting a perfectly good avocado.  I just cannot control my anger sometimes and have to release it, had not those gentlemen not flicked me off, or my son not die in November that avocado may have been just put in the fridge for later.  I am terribly busy and I have to set my grief aside some days, but it will be there when I least expect to show me that it will wait for me, no matter what.

This Morning

I slept in late, but then got up and started my morning routine.  He soon crept into my thoughts as he always does in the morning.  I am glad to think of him so often.  I have a faint smile when I think of him sometimes, but most of the mornings I carry a heavy heart.  I try to quell that heart with coffee and the computer.  Distractions do wonders when you are in grief.  I decided this morning that after breakfast and a few really good songs that I would get up and start picking up the living areas.  I noticed my steps are heavy as I move about, picking up random memories of his life and death strewn about like seeds waiting to trigger a reaction in my heart.  The house is starting to look a little better as I organize and clean up.  But it will never look good, my baby is not watching me intently as I pick up and watch him while mommy grabs a few extra hours of sleep.  My heart is heavy because he is trying to hang on to me as I work, I carry my son with me always and forever will.

The Grind

Entering the grind we become numb.  Work, clean, chores, computer, sleep, eat, work.  An endless list of things to tack on our day yet they all become a monumental challenge.  We are struggling now to fit our own lives into this daily grind, how do we adept to a life without our son?  I do not know, I can only try.  Where does our son fit into this life, we planned to focus our busy lives around his growing life.  Now that our life is filled with nothing but time and his life is no more, we are left with the wreckage of our new life.  It has taken months to get to where we are and I feel like we are no further along than we were months ago.  I have not added anything new besides a headstone for my son in my life.  The only accomplishment is a piece of blue slate with my wifes handwritten message etched in it.  Hardly an accomplishment which I ever wanted to live to see.  I am no further in my life, no further with our family, only farther away from my son as every day passes.  I am alone in this life, floating along in this grind, trying to find a safe place to plant my feet.  I fear there is no safe place anymore. 

I thought I was doing ok.  I got my grades back from last semester and they were all A's.  It is the only time in my life I have ever gotten straight A's and the only time that I have a 4.0 gpa going.  I also am going to be getting ready to go home here soon to see Marcellus's headstone put in.  I am not too upset by that because I feel like we owe it to him to have a permanent marking of his spot.  I also have been losing weight and found a passion for running when there is little passion left in my life.  I thought things were going well until I have been hit with some curveballs that have added up. 
First, I signed up for a CNA test and the date is the day after we leave.  Not a huge deal but 101 dollars down the drain.  Why they do not let you pick your date is silly.  I then got my financial aid suspended because since I withdrew my fall semester my completion rate is below the mandatory 67%.  I just had to send in my appeal accompanied with the death certificate to say "I had to withdraw from the fall because my 12 day old son died."  A couple that I know that lost their baby in January 2011 after over five months of battling for his life just had their rainbow baby.   A beautiful little girl who they just brought home from the NICU.  Seeing them bring such a small, healthy little baby home reminded me that Marcellus probably could have came home earlier than they told us if he would have done well.  I am happy for them however, the pain they have endured escapes me.  How one can put their life back together after that is amazing.  And now my brother and wife are pregnant again.  They had an early miscarriage but got pregnant again right away.  He told me the news and told me that he got to call mom on Mothers Day with the news to let her know she will be a grandma again.  I sent my mom a card telling her that I appreciated her.  She got a call from my brother that she might have a grandchild that wants to stay longer than a couple weeks gestation or 12 days after he/she is born.  My brother and sister-in-law are older, and I know that they want to be good parents to more kids than just their little lime they lost recently.   But I cannot help think that it should be us too, we should be given the chance to raise a child here, in our home, like my friend.  I just want that chance. 

I can do things for my son, like put in a headstone, brew a beer, read him stories, give blood, March for Babies, etc...  but I can never do things WITH my son.  I want to do things with my children, to raise them, to shape them, to help them become good, loving people.  I want to accept them for who they are, I want to pick them up when they scrape their knee or when they become heartbroken.  I want to be the person they look up to.  I want to be there for a long time when they grow older.  I want to hold my wifes hand on a Mothers Day far off in the future as we are surrounded by our children and grandchildren and know that Marcellus shaped this family for what it is.  I just want that chance. 

Six months, still no home

Last night my wife asked me why I do not blog as much lately, I do not know why.  Maybe I am sick of it, maybe I am sick of this grief.  6 months ago I lost Marcellus and now I have to find my new normal.  A lot has changed for me in the past couple of weeks, we did March for Babies.  Our team won second for money raised and won best t shirt.  It was an incredibly humbling experience and awe inspiring to have so much support for my little buddy.  Last week I completed my semester, the semester which I started last fall and had to stop six months ago after he died.  In a way I did not want this semester to end, it was my connection to him.  He helped me study for Anatomy and I did not want to stop doing that.  But I have to move forward, to 'move on' as others who have no idea what its like to lose a child say to you.  We are now getting ready to go back home in a couple weeks for his headstone. 

Which brings me to what is home now?  If Marcellus is our son and your family makes your home then what do you do in our case.  Before Marcellus it was just my wife and I.  This was our home, where we were.  And that was only cemented when we found out about him, I really started to consider NC our home.  We were going to bring a child into the world.  Two northerners from Minnesota were going to have a Carolina baby.  When he died and our family shattered we buried him in Minnesota because we did not know where we would be in 10 years.  The thought of moving him makes me cringe, I never want to.  But now my child's soul is in heaven and his body is in Minnesota.  His parents are left heartbroken in NC, where do we call home?  Is it when we go back to the grave and see his spot?  Do we call that little chunk of land home?  Or can we still call NC home, maybe the hospital was our only true home.  I do not know.  I hate this all, it makes me sick. 

I have to go to work today.  I never planned on it, I swear I requested the day off and they are suppose to let me know if I did not get it off.  But I have to go to work and leave Mommy by herself for the evening.  I do not know how I will do it, hopefully I make it through.  And if I cannot, I will leave.  I hate it there anyways, everything seems so far away.  My son, my family, the fact that I am a father.  I just feel like a worthless plebeian there.  No one is going to know that it is exactly 6 months ago that I lost him, and if I tell people I will look like I am rubbing it in their faces demanding sympathy.

I demand nothing, because I could not demand Marcellus to stay with us, he left because his body could not sustain his soul.  I could feel him trying to stay with us, he wanted to so badly.  But he could not, and we have to live with that for the rest of our lives... you've got to be kidding me.