It's been quite the year.
Loss. Grief. Joy. Exhaustion.
And a giant helping of survivor's guilt.
Pop passed away this spring, after a very lengthy, very painful battle with cancer. The C word. I've never disliked it more. And while Pop did not get a chance to build relationships with his great-grandchildren, he did leave behind a childhood of memories for Jay. Fishing, fishing and more fishing. Sunday afternoon phone calls to give Jay crap about his football team. Telling us to 'drive 'er easy' each time we parted ways. His deliberate withdrawal late in life gave way to a now constant sense of his spirit in our home. We ask him for help in times of trouble and know he isn't far away. Sometimes we still expect him to call.
Our family also grieved a whole different kind of loss, when our dear niece Kinsley was born sleeping on May 23rd. To say we were devastated is an understatement. Our entire family was preparing to welcome her with open arms, to embrace her as the wonderful gift we knew she was. To lose her, to never see or hold her, well that's just not fair. I've never felt so tested in my faith, I have asked God why more times than I can count. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law amaze me with their courage and strength. I pray for them every single day, hug them whenever they'll let me (ok, I'm hugger!) and remind my kids all the time of their special angel cousin in heaven. She will NEVER be forgotten.
And then there was joy. Elation for the birth of our third child, our final child, Ethan John. I'd always pictured a little boy named Ethan, and as with our other children, we chose John as his 'angel name' in honour of Pop. He didn't exactly arrive as we expected him to (that's a story for another day) but his soul shines brightly, his eyes tell me there is something special about his presence. Our son is perfect in every way. Beautiful and sweet, loving and smart. He completed our family in an instant, and has brought intense joy to his siblings, father and I.
The juxtaposition of the last two events have left me with, what can only be called, survivors guilt. Intense guilt. Heavy, thick pain which runs deep in my chest. As I reflect on milestone dates with Ethan, I weep knowing Kinsley will not celebrate them. When I hold my son close in the wee hours of the morning I hold back tears as my thoughts drift to how my sister-in-law was feeling during her brief time with K. My heart aches, I melt into a puddle of mush weekly as I feel guilt for posting photos, spilling news about new food triumphs and his ever-increasing weight. My child survived. And it hurts more than I ever dreamed possible. I can only hope time will ease this pain.
In the fall we got our family "legs" back, so I took an opportunity to try something new - part-time instructing at Niagara College. The last four months of 2013 became a true test of endurance as I attempted to balance too many hours of freelance work, teaching, full-time care of my kids and, oh ya, my wee man and his increasing appetite. I lost my evenings, weekends and connection to my husband and kids. I took my first meeting one-week post c-section, in sweatpants because nothing fit. It was a very intense time for our family, one which we will never choose again. I felt exhausted and surprisingly, very lonely. Our family lost our sense of balance and realized we had slipped back to the very reason I left my full-time career in the first place. Lesson learned.
In 2014 I will strive for peace. Peace in my body, heart and peace in my mind. I've vowed to take better care of myself. To forgive my body for its current shape, to drop the negative thoughts wasting space in my brain and to work to release the guilt in my heart. No easy task, but one I take on with focus and determination.
This year has taught me, more than ever before, that life should be embraced. It is short enough to warrant shoestring vacations (hint hint honey), late night movies on the couch with my kids and long distance phone calls to friends who I consider an extension of my family.
Much love to our village for supporting us through this very busy, life-altering year. All the best for an incredible 2014.
xo
This blog was created in 2011 to capture my very personal journey of leaving full time work to become a work-at-home mother of three beautiful children. Naturally, this space has morphed into a place of personal reflection, celebration and sometimes even sadness. I’ve written about childhood cancer, food allergy and anaphylaxis, grief, marriage, friendship, parenting and everything in between, all with a growing sense of mindfulness and gratitude. Please, grab a cup of tea and stay awhile.
