Friday, November 14, 2008

When it Hits, it Hits Hard

Last night I got home about 8:30 and after putting Savannah to bed, I actually had an evening that I didn't have a trillion things to do, so I decided to sit down and see what was on TV. Nothing out of the ordinary for most people, but I haven't been able to just sit and watch TV as I used to for time limitations and because I choose to do other things a lot of the time now. (Don't get me wrong, there are still my favorite shows that I DO make time for!) Anyway, the point is that it was the first time in awhile I just sat down and started flipping through the channels with no agenda in mind.

WHY?!? WHY did I have to flip to NBC and it be the beginning of ER. Now I've seen ER in previous seasons, and am not even sure if this was a rerun or a current episode because I don't follow it, but it was a lot of new characters that I don't remember being on it when I've seen it before. I decided to stay on the channel and within the first two minutes, before they even put the title of the show up, they showed a dad in the river that had gone off the sidewalk with his stroller and the baby was in the water somewhere and he couldn't find her. Her doll was floating to the top and he was screaming frantically trying to find her. Needless to say, I began to turn the channel because it was too heartbreaking for me to even think about, much less watch.

But as a few minutes passed, my interest was already sparked of how it turned out. (I really hope this was not a new episode and I am spoiling someone who has tivo'd it and not seen it yet! Man, I would feel bad!) SO, I turned back to watch it, even though the thought of a baby dying was incredibly painful and stressing me immensely at the moment. Coming to peace with your daughter dying is one thing, but when something like this strikes a place in your heart, it hits and it hits HARD emotionally out of the blue.

As I wacthed it, it was the doctor working on this little girl (which they did find in the water) that had lost her son suddenly to leukemia when he had a seizure and stroke and died after rushing him to the hospital and they never had a chance to say goodbye. Through all the trauma and drama going on between the girl that was in the river (which lived) and the doctor having constant flashbacks of her little boy dying, it was horrible. I screamed out, crying, actually bawling like a baby after it was over, because I felt that pain ALL OVER AGAIN.

She said something to a coworker at the end that hit home to me when she was asked "What happened in there when you were working on her? Did you have a patient that was a kid that died or something?" (She had been extra passionate and trying to fight for this little girl because all the time she was "flashing back" to the day her son died when only moments earlier he had been at the park throwing a ball and they had no idea he was sick- he had acute leukemia with no signs) She answered, "Yes, I did, that KID was my son. He died in Trauma 1 (which was the room down the hall and the coworker looked at her in disbelief)." He said he was so sorry, that he had no idea or what to say now, except that he was sorry for her loss. She replied with the statement that hurt my heart, "When you louse a spouse, you're called a widow, when you lose your parents, you're called an orphan, but when you lose your child, there's no word for that." All I could think was Motherless. Needless to say, I broke down.

I have been REALLY struggling lately. I UNfortunately have it down pat wearing the mask and hiding the pain all too often, but last night there was none of that. I was depressed after this episode and cried myself to sleep as I was home alone and I had thought back to the day Tori died in great detail, how sudden it was, how awful it felt and how unreal it was afterwards. I yelled some things to God, and I'm glad He just listens when we're emotional and understands our emotions, but I was also mad at Him at that moment to be honest. "It's so unfair," I thought! "I want her HERE this Christmas! Please give her back to me! I don't want to feel this pain forever, even if at sporatic times like this! I hate this!" All this just kind of tipped off all my struggling and depression lately. I have withdrawn from several friendships and things I usually participate in, for being tired emotionally and trying. Again, these are all things people can hide well in case this comes as a shock. Yes, I'm human.

I then got up this morning and read Matthew Litchfield's caring bridge page, the little boy we met at RMcD House last fall and who died just 2 weeks ago. It was his mom writing on the 2 week anniversary of his death and it broke my heart. I was right there with her with how unfair she thought it was, the sadness and anger she's feeling and I understood. I DO know that God allowed these two precious children, Tori and Matthew, go home early for a reason, although I don't know why. I will press on and live for Tori because that's the best way to honor her, but I still have weak moments like last night. Thanks for listening.

**I write this for my own journaling purposes, but if you're reading this, you can know that even though someone loses a child, a spouse, a loved one, etc. and "moves on" with life, doesn't mean that they don't still hurt behind the scenes months and even years later. Be sensitive and encourage others like Matthew's mom. www.caringbridge.org/visit/matthewlitchfield

4 comments:

gracie :) said...

Oh Melissa,
I remember the days following Drew's death when I would replay all the events that led up to his passing. It seemed that if I could just replay it right, perhaps it would have a different ending. Maybe I would just wake up from the bad dream and find him alive and well. I can't tell you how often my brain tried to work on this!

I know all about wearing that mask. During those extremely difficult days in the year that followed, most people did not know the depths of my pain and confusion. There are so many questions left unanswered. But I pray you will find, as I did when I came to the absolute end of myself, that God is there holding you when you no longer have the strength to hold on to Him. May he gather you up in His arms today.

Kristin said...

I pray you find some peace today.

Kristy said...

Melissa,

How right you are about wearing the mask all the time. Enduring the loss is one thing, but living with the loss is something completely different. I also understand what it means to be emotionally tired. It seems that I live most days there. Hang in there! As my son, Nick, likes to say, "God's got your back!"

Anonymous said...

Sweet Melissa, I know only too well what you are feeling and thank God you have the gift of expressing those feelings and blessing others by doing so.

There are still times, when I speak of my Sarah's short time of just merely minutes in excess of 48 hours here with us, that people who've never experienced losing a child ,know what to say. I still believe by talking it out to anyone who would lend an ear, even if they had no idea of what I had experienced or what to say to comfort, it was an opportunity to simply speak her name, to let someone know how much she was loved, to let someone else know she did exist if for such a brief time, just to be able to tell someone to hold on to every precious moment you are granted with your children, just to repeat the events, if for no other reason than to speak the words of those days outloud to reassure myself that I may never forget any precious moment of the time she was here; God forbid if I should ever forget! And that the one who was so selfish in her thoughts to think she would ever take anything away from the way I loved her sister (my oldest child from previous marriage); please God keep me from having a hard heart with this person.It may seem I've not forgiven those who were concerned about that, but believe me, I have. It is their loss; not mine.

Sarah would have been 24 this past May. It's not a day goes by I don't think about what she would look like, her interests, her chosen career, her favorite color; I could go on and on. I suppose I thought because she was only here on this earth for two days I may forget what she looked like, how small she was, or even the bluish color she was when she was born (because she wasn't breathing on her own), afraid that her daddy wouldn't make it to the hospital to see her (because his job had been transferred 4 hours away), afraid I would give birth to her in the back seat of my brother-in-law's car (because the rescue squad was too slow in responding to my call for assistance), because my husband/her daddy was away from us trying to make our living until the pregnancy was stable enough we could all be together as a family - all four of us - I suppose I was even afraid of forgetting what she looked like with her eyes open - something her daddy didn't get to see b/c he was so far away from us when she was born; I suppose I thought if I talked about her I wouldn't forget. My fears of forgetting were unfounded! Praise God! And, if you've ever worried that you would forget, please be assured that you won't! But, by speaking out loud the events of those 48 hours somehow got me through all the long days and weeks, which followed. Thank you and I thank God for the opportunity to remember my sweet Sarah Ann this evening. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity of sharing my love for my sweet, sweet precious angel Sarah with others. To be able to speak of her and share with others helps ease the pain. Always remember I love you. God truly brought us together for a reason! May God continue to bless you as you bring comfort to so many others in sharing your love and thoughts of your sweet angel Tori.

I love you!
Kathy B.