Positively February: Day 8

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step" - Confucius

So you probably think I'm redundant as this goes hand in hand with my mantra - "One day at a time, one step at a time".  That's how important I think it is for us to set small goals especially when you are dealing with the unthinkable, but even if you aren't.  You can't reach the goal without taking steps first.  You can't cross the finish line before crossing the start line.

We often set too many goals at once, or goals that are too ambitious.  Maybe it would be a good idea to set a goal, and then set objectives within that goal.  For example, I want to do a good thorough spring cleaning in the house.  I could say, I want it done by the end of February, or even March, and that could be really unrealistic.  I'm away from the house for basically 12 hours every weekday.  Instead, these are my objectives - one room per weekend.  And if something comes up one weekend where I can't get it done, then so be it.  Whether that "something" be that we're going away for the weekend, or that I'm grieving too hard another.

One foot in front of the other.  One small step at a time.  I truly am on a journey of a thousand miles.  More likely, an endless journey.  By embracing positivity, by allowing healing into my life, and by taking things slow, I hope to make this journey less painful to go through.  For me, for others around me.  For others, who might be able to do the same.

Preston, thank you for helping me keep this attitude, when the biggest part of me, wants nothing to do with positivity and moving forward.  I couldn't do it without having you in my life, in my heart.

No rules

My Remicade infusion was today.  Hard to believe how quickly these come up all the time.  I felt extremely tired today as the biologic was being administered.  I had not felt this run down by the drug since prior to my pregnancy with Preston.  I've talked about how my allergies went away during my pregnancy.  My little sweet P gave me all sorts of immunities.  Over the last few months, slowly, these have really started to wear off.  More and more every time.  I'd say, Remicade is almost back to knocking me right out a couple hours later.

I didn't feel tired enough to go to bed at 6:30pm, like I used to do prior to being pregnant, but I certainly didn't have the energy to do much.  I caught up on Survivor and General Hospital.. 4 episodes of it.  Thank you DVR for allowing me to fast forward commercials, or I'd still be on my second episode!  The last episode had scenes with my favorite character - Elizabeth Webber.  She started on the show in the late 90s and played a teenager.  I was a teenager at the time, and liked the edgy side to her character.  She became half of the next supercouple, along with Luke and Laura's son Lucky, who was portrayed by the excellent actor Jonathan Jackson (not on Nashville).  Over the year, Liz' character has been put through the ringer, yet she still manages to be portrayed as sweet, loving and lovable.  The story-line that should define her most though, is the loss of her 3 year old Jake, who was hit by a drunk driver - small world, her ex-father in law - Luke.

My mind likes to wander.  When I'm tired, as I am now, I don't have much control over where it goes.  Liz doesn't mention Jake enough if you ask me.  Of course, she's a fictional character, but I feel like they should portray her thinking about her son more often.  Perhaps melting down here and there, because she sees a little boy that looks like him, or finds one of his toys under the sofa as she cleans.  I've watched General Hospital for a long time, and I've seen how "people" can react to traumatic situations.  Sometimes, as we see other people going through certain situations, in our mind, we make the decision of how we would react and feel if put in other people's shoes.  Having seen the scenes where Liz loses Jake, I imagined that I would have reacted the same way - complete hysterics.  At the time, I didn't know I would have a son.  At the time, I didn't know that I'd lose a child.  Was it foreshadowing that I asked myself how I would react in her shoes?

That's not how it went down.  I remember screaming.  I remember crying.  And then I remember feeling nothing.  Numbness.  Paralysis.  Indifference almost.  I was upset at myself for not being hysterical like Liz had been.  I was confused.  Did I not care?  Of course I did.  I know that now, but grief can be really evil and implant thoughts in your mind that aren't true.  Like all that guilt.  The guilt was there from day one, and it's always hiding in the shadows, even today.

The point of all this... There may be books, TV shows or movies that tell you how you should feel in situations of grief.  Grief has no rules.  You may expect to react a certain way and then you don't.  That's okay.  Feel what you have to feel, and know that you aren't doing it wrong.  Don't place too many expectations on yourself when you are grieving.  Setbacks will happen, I'm sorry to say.  And if you do react the way you expected, that is just fine too.  Just take it, one day at a time.  If you have to, just a small moment at a time.

Quiet night

I don't like loud things.  As I sit writing my entry tonight, I hear the crickets chirp.  I hear the jingles of Acro and Calex's bells from their collars as they run the night away downstairs. I hear the hum of the fan from Brett's desktop computer in the office just behind our bedroom. I hear an occasional car go by on the side street.  I hear my fingers hit the keys on my laptop as I type.

I have a soft voice and don't like to speak loudly or yell.  I don't like being yelled at, does anyone?  I guess I do enjoy blasting a good song while driving in my car... but that's about all the loud I can stand.  We were so blessed as Preston was a very quiet baby boy.  His cry was sweet.  His coos were adorably soft.  He was never loud.  I'd trade anything to have him back, even if it meant having him be the loudest baby in the world. 

It's the first time that I'm alone in the house, overnight, since Preston passed away.  I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet, but I know it's something I was going to have to do eventually, so why not bite the bullet now?  Brett went over to his parents' house to help with a project tomorrow morning.  I had a few things to do around the house and since I also want to be able to take some time to relax over the weekend,  I felt I wouldn't have the chance to do too much of that if I went with. He'll be spending a big chunk of tomorrow up there.  And, like I said earlier, I needed to bite the bullet at some point; He'll have to go out of town on business at some point.  At least, right now, he's close-ish if I were to totally go crazy and need him home with me.

I spent the evening emptying out the china cabinet in preparation for Brett to remove the carpet and start the tiling project.  All I have left are the delicate wine glasses and other drinkware.  I need to go buy thinner paper to wrap them in. What I used for the rest of the dishes and various trinkets I keep in the cabinet is just too thick.  How is it that we accumulate so much stuff?  And I'm one of those people who doesn't like to throw out anything because of the memories.  I was starting to think that I need to get rid of a lot of things, but you know, sometimes memories are all you have left.. so if you want to hold on to them, do it!  Go down memory lane one day and let yourself smile by remembering happy times.  If they don't make you smile, then maybe it's time to get rid of the things that just create more clutter.

Back to my evening, I emptied the cabinet, and caught up on General Hospital, woohoo.  Looking forward to next week, looks like Nathan aka Detective SexyPants is about to figure out that Levi is a crook!  Yay!  Can't stand Levi - lol.  Ah, yes a glimpse into my addiction to GH...  That is a topic for another day ;)

When I finished with all that, I tried listening to a song I liked to sing to my sweet P when I was trying to get him to fall asleep - Show 'Em (What You're Made Of).  Yes, that's a Backstreet Boys song.  Sue me, I grew up in the 80s and 90s and I still like their music.  No shame here.  Interestingly enough, whenever I hear a new song of theirs, it becomes my new favorite BSB song: first it was "Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely", then it was "Drowning", then it was "Incomplete".  Now it's "Show 'Em (What You're Made Of).  I liked the song when I first heard it because it rang so true to me (sound familiar? lol).  I liked singing it to Preston because he was so tiny and it talks about not giving up and fighting.  I felt like he was my little fighter, growing as fast as he could given that he didn't get the chance to "bake" for 40 weeks.  Part of the lyrics say: "You find the truth in a child’s eyes/When the only limit is the sky/Living proof I see myself in you".  I did see myself in him.  He had fight, just like I did especially in the past years with all my health issues.  But, since I'd like to eventually make a post about this song, I'll stop here.
I couldn't get through the song.  I tried singing it and only ended up bawling my eyes out.  Sometimes, it just has to come out though, so I had my good cry, and I feel ok right now.  I'd been having this weird and strong urge to go sit in the rocking chair in Preston's room and read him "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish".  After all, he can probably still hear me talk to him.  Well, I hope he does, because I often do speak to him.  But this one time, I wanted it to be about Preston, and not about me and what I am feeling.  So I did.  I was still crying some when I went to his room, but I did it.  I read the whole book, out loud, like I used to read it to my little boy.  I touched a few of his things.  The cats even came in the room to visit.  I wonder if they realize what happened.  It really doesn't seem so.  But, I think I tried to do a little too much because I eventually couldn't take it anymore and had to close the door again.  And now here I am.

Was all this therapeutic?  Probably, in a sense.  I want to be able to go into Preston's room.  We had a lot of good times in his room.  I want to be able to go in there and smile, instead of just feel heartache and pain.  Was it worth the self inflicted heartache?  Totally.  I got to read to my baby again.  I know I wasn't holding him in my arms, but it made me feel close to him for a few moments.  Is it hard to be alone right now?  Absolutely, but, I also think that it's good for me.  I needed to do these things, and I don't think I would have done them if Brett was home.  I wouldn't want to risk hurting him more than he's already hurting.  Is it something I want to do every week?  No, not really.  I think I need these moments to be special and not routine.  I think letting it become routine could be dangerous for my psyche.  Confuse dream with reality.  It's too easy to do.

One day at a time.  One moment at a time.  One step at a time.  I feel like I've taken a big step today, even though it was really difficult.  Is there something you are needing to bite the bullet on, but just haven't taken the plunge?  Is something holding you back?  I will hold your hand, as you continue to hold mine.