As you read in my last few posts, the month of August - post Ella's birthday - has been rough. I would even say, very rough...
You see, a year ago, Ella, her Dad and I were as close to being a family as we ever were. And would be...
Ella was beautiful, vibrant, healthy, and happy. At least from the outside...
A year ago, I was on maternity leave, enjoying my time off, my life and my baby girl. A year ago I was blissful... At least from the outside...
This year, I am trying to mend the pieces of my heart, and of my soul... by myself. And definitely, starting from the inside...
I'm not sure if there is an actual cycle on this journey that I am on, but this weekend, after a pretty crappy period, I feel like something clicked inside again I realized I need to continue to do what I feel is right for me, in taking care of me. This feeling was very similar to the feeling I had when I chose to go back to horseback riding, back in April, to save myself from a guaranteed drowning in my sorrows. And to the feeling I had back in late May when I told Ella's dad we needed to separate, for otherwise I would continue to be miserable in this relationship that was going absolutely no where.
As hard as it is for someone who has always had everybody else's well being in mind before her own, I figured if I can't do it now, I will never, ever, be able to do it...
So, on Sunday, I chose to spend time with a dear friend to treat myself to yummy desserts. On Monday, it was my barn therapy and two more meetings with friends I had not seen in way too long. Tuesday there were two firsts - my first yoga lesson and my first bereavement parent support group meeting. Both were instrumental in keeping me focused on the positive, though I have to say both required a tremendous amount of energy.
The yoga for keeping my mind from wandering on to all the negatives that've plagued my life in the last years. And the bereavement group for facing 24 other parents who, like me, had their child taken away from them in horrible ways, but mostly for facing them on my own... as the only single parent in the group...
I made it through though... on both counts. And I know I am better for it.
And I will continue with both forms of therapies, as this is what I need now to regain some balance in my life before I rejoin the "real" world where everybody's got their own agenda cross to bear.
And then today, after months of not being able to think of me, I moved closer to getting myself in the right place - from the outside in - being pampered for a few hours before spending an hour shopping for a new piece of clothing. Clothing that is pink - for Ella was a pink girl and in her memory, I try to wear some pink every day...
All of this may seem very trivial to some, and not at all therapeutic to others but learning to put myself first is something I've always struggled with. My nickname in college was "Mom" - not because I had a child - but definitely because all I ever thought about was ensuring everyone else around me was okay...
And Ella's situation was no different. For the entire time Ella was hospitalized, the number of days I "took a break" can fit on basically one hand. And if that was not enough, the one time I went out to get pampered, a few weeks before Christmas last year, Ella's state got so bad, she went from the ward to the ICU with the doc stating at the time: "I don't care if they have a bed or not for her in ICU, if they don't, we'll build a wing for her!". I still remember turning my phone on after my appointment onlt to hear the nurse say "Ella's been transferred to ICU. Please drive carefully"...
We now know that Ella was very sick, all throughout her life, even though she never showed any definite and obvious signs until she was 2 months and 2 days old. If you've had the opportunity to speak with me, you know how guilty I feel about the fact that from the day she was born, I questioned her health - her breathing more specifically - only to be reassured by doctors and nurses who did not see Ella's problems for what they were... I often look back at pictures of Ella and can pin point exactly now how her body contorted because her lungs were so inflated... Little did we know at the time, but even the doctors who saw us every other week did not see it... I was just another stressed out new mom, or so every one thought...
Part of that inside and outside work will be for me to understand that there is nothing I could have done to save Ella.
That I was doing the best that I could to provide for my baby girl.
And that until the day that I die, I will do everything that I can, not only to find out what happened to my daughter but also everything in my power to honour her memory.
Every minute... Every hour... Every day... Every week... Every month... Every year...
For as long as I shall breathe...
Inside and out...
You see, a year ago, Ella, her Dad and I were as close to being a family as we ever were. And would be...
Ella was beautiful, vibrant, healthy, and happy. At least from the outside...
A year ago, I was on maternity leave, enjoying my time off, my life and my baby girl. A year ago I was blissful... At least from the outside...
This year, I am trying to mend the pieces of my heart, and of my soul... by myself. And definitely, starting from the inside...
I'm not sure if there is an actual cycle on this journey that I am on, but this weekend, after a pretty crappy period, I feel like something clicked inside again I realized I need to continue to do what I feel is right for me, in taking care of me. This feeling was very similar to the feeling I had when I chose to go back to horseback riding, back in April, to save myself from a guaranteed drowning in my sorrows. And to the feeling I had back in late May when I told Ella's dad we needed to separate, for otherwise I would continue to be miserable in this relationship that was going absolutely no where.
As hard as it is for someone who has always had everybody else's well being in mind before her own, I figured if I can't do it now, I will never, ever, be able to do it...
So, on Sunday, I chose to spend time with a dear friend to treat myself to yummy desserts. On Monday, it was my barn therapy and two more meetings with friends I had not seen in way too long. Tuesday there were two firsts - my first yoga lesson and my first bereavement parent support group meeting. Both were instrumental in keeping me focused on the positive, though I have to say both required a tremendous amount of energy.
The yoga for keeping my mind from wandering on to all the negatives that've plagued my life in the last years. And the bereavement group for facing 24 other parents who, like me, had their child taken away from them in horrible ways, but mostly for facing them on my own... as the only single parent in the group...
I made it through though... on both counts. And I know I am better for it.
And I will continue with both forms of therapies, as this is what I need now to regain some balance in my life before I rejoin the "real" world where everybody's got their own agenda cross to bear.
And then today, after months of not being able to think of me, I moved closer to getting myself in the right place - from the outside in - being pampered for a few hours before spending an hour shopping for a new piece of clothing. Clothing that is pink - for Ella was a pink girl and in her memory, I try to wear some pink every day...
All of this may seem very trivial to some, and not at all therapeutic to others but learning to put myself first is something I've always struggled with. My nickname in college was "Mom" - not because I had a child - but definitely because all I ever thought about was ensuring everyone else around me was okay...
And Ella's situation was no different. For the entire time Ella was hospitalized, the number of days I "took a break" can fit on basically one hand. And if that was not enough, the one time I went out to get pampered, a few weeks before Christmas last year, Ella's state got so bad, she went from the ward to the ICU with the doc stating at the time: "I don't care if they have a bed or not for her in ICU, if they don't, we'll build a wing for her!". I still remember turning my phone on after my appointment onlt to hear the nurse say "Ella's been transferred to ICU. Please drive carefully"...
We now know that Ella was very sick, all throughout her life, even though she never showed any definite and obvious signs until she was 2 months and 2 days old. If you've had the opportunity to speak with me, you know how guilty I feel about the fact that from the day she was born, I questioned her health - her breathing more specifically - only to be reassured by doctors and nurses who did not see Ella's problems for what they were... I often look back at pictures of Ella and can pin point exactly now how her body contorted because her lungs were so inflated... Little did we know at the time, but even the doctors who saw us every other week did not see it... I was just another stressed out new mom, or so every one thought...
Part of that inside and outside work will be for me to understand that there is nothing I could have done to save Ella.
That I was doing the best that I could to provide for my baby girl.
And that until the day that I die, I will do everything that I can, not only to find out what happened to my daughter but also everything in my power to honour her memory.
Every minute... Every hour... Every day... Every week... Every month... Every year...
For as long as I shall breathe...
Inside and out...
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