My Life

So I've come back to wondering, "How is this my life? Is this real? Please let this be a bad, long dream."

But let's be honest...it's real and it's not a dream. This is my life.

My life of missing my best friend with every fiber of my being every second of every day. My life of being an only-parent. I'm an only-parent, not a single-parent, because I didn't choose to raise our two babies on my own. And being an only-parent is utterly exhausting. Their well-being is my top priority and I worry about them. Will they remember their Daddy? (Laura may, there's no chance in hell Clara will and that absolutely breaks my heart.) Am I doing things like we would have if there were still two of us to make decisions and discipline? Am I giving them enough opportunities and not expecting too much of them at too young of an age? Am I spending enough time playing with them while also giving them their own space to explore and develop independence? Am I enabling them because they've been robbed of growing up with a Daddy? The worry list is endless...and it's overwhelming and exhausting.

This is my life...a widow at 32. Eating Scarfing half a meal down alone after the girls are fed before they need me again. Managing inside and outdoor chores. No one to vent to when I've had a rough day at work or when family irritates me. No one to celebrate my raise with. No one to get excited over the little things only a parent gets excited about. No one to bounce ideas off. No one to plan a vacation with or dream about retirement with. No one to go on a date night with. It's just me and this is my lonely life.

The carousel never stops turning

How do you do it Shonda Rhimes? How do you manage to mimic my life, my feelings, my inner thoughts, my fears?

Oct 2011 – We unexpectedly lose our son at 39 weeks. Stillborn.

May 2012 – Amelia loses her newborn son. (Private Practice)

January 2015 – I unexpectedly become a widow with two very young kids; a widow due to a freak accident in which the hands of the rescuers were tied.

April 2015 – Derek dies. Meredith is a widow with two young kids; a widow due to a freak accident. (Grey's Anatomy)

You might think that watching this version of my life play out on tv would haunt and torture me. Is it easy? God no. But there’s something about it that makes me feel a little less alone. It forces me to face emotions I try to bury…forces me to name the feelings I couldn’t before find words for. And it gives those on the outside looking into my life an idea of what I'm dealing with.

The carousel never stops turning. It’s funny the way memory works. The things you can’t quite remember, and the things you never forget.

He was the love of my life. I doubt I'll ever love another man the way I loved him. I'm certain I won't. How could I? But he's gone. That's the point, isn't it? He's gone and I'm here. And there's no getting him back.

I wish Daddy were here.

It's awful being a grown-up. But the carousel never stops turning.

You've never lost the love of your life. You've never cried over the body of the person you love most in this world. You don't know how that messes a person up. You've never had to claw your way back from that.

I can live without you, but I don't want to. I don't ever want to.

I still get up every morning. I face every day. I don't get to jump on a plane and fly halfway across the damn world.

What the hell is going on? What’s the point? I mean, is there a reason for this? Because if you can think of a reason, any reason at all why the universe is so screwed up and random and mean, now would be an amazingly good time to tell me because I really need some answers.

Nothing comes easily. I want to settle down and grow old with you. I want to die when I'm 110 years old in your arms. I don't want 48 uninterrupted hours. I want a lifetime.

He's gone and I know he's gone. And the bed feels lonely. Nothing comes easily. I don't know how to sleep alone. Where do I begin? Nothing can bring me peace I miss you. I've lost everything. I just want to feel your embrace.

I know people were worried. Since he died, everybody's been looking at me, waiting for me to fall apart or freak out or just become a mess. Like some bomb everyone thinks is supposed to go off.

And I'm all alone. Now I have to raise my daughter[s] alone. How am I expected to do that?

I needed more time with him, but it just keeps going forward faster and faster and there is no more time. You can't go back, you can't press pause.

If there's a crisis you don't freeze. You move forward. You get the rest of us to move forward. Because you've seen worse. You've survived worse.

It's a choice I'm making. To move forward. To move past this. I can do that.

The carousel never stops turning. No matter how hard I drag my feet, it keeps turning and the calendar pages keep turning, the girls keep growing and life moves forward. I have to be present for them...active in their lives. I have to figure out how to make this work for the three of us. Love them SO HARD so they know how much their Daddy loves[d] them. 

Needs

A fellow widow (late 50's, widowed for one week today) recently told me, "You're the strongest person I know. I'm not strong like you." I told her that I'm nothing special. Because I'm not. Fake it 'til you make it.

I feel like I'm floating through life, from one commitment to the next and being pulled in too many directions at once. I feel like people think I'm doing ok. And I guess I am...doing ok...because ok is all I have right now. But really...who wants to be just ok? People think they know what I need. An extended family Easter on Sunday..."sounds like it's going to be a nice little get together for something other than a funeral."  Gee, thanks Mom. I guess that depends on who you are and what your definition of nice is. My idea of a "nice" Easter without my husband and my daughter's Dad would be a quiet one with immediate family. Not a dog and pony show with aunts/uncles/cousins that I haven't seen or been in touch with in years. People that won't stay in touch with me because right now, I feel like all they want is the "scoop." M y idea of a "nice" Easter doesn't include re-hashing the events of January 23, answering the stupid-ass question "so, how are you doing" a bajillion times, feeling their steely eyes follow me wherevever I go all day just waiting for me to breakdow, and hearing the whispers behind my back, "so...how is she REALLY doing?"  I don't NEED these strangers family around on Sunday. Re-connect on your own time, not on my grief.

I don't NEED to "just get away awhile...just by yourself."  Why?! So I have even more down time to think about everything we have lost and how things should be? Yeah, that sounds "relaxing" and "rejuvenating."  And you know what else I don't need? Someone constantly tracking my every move. I am a 32-year old adult. I don't NEED to check-in with you and tell you my every move. I don't NEED to seek permission to do something or take my girls and go somewhere for the day. I am their parent...their ONLY LIVING parent, and I make the decisions, not you. And you know what? Your hurt feelings are the least of my concerns these days. If your feelings get hurt because I prioritize myself and my girls over you then I guess you're just going to have hurt feelings and deal with it.

This is what I need:

I need him...my best friend, confidante, soul mate. I need him to tell me "as long as we have each other, we can get through anything." I need to talk about how lucky we are that our marriage is easy. I need his passion.

I need to feel this joy and happiness...this security. I need him to tuck my hair behind my ear, hold my hand as we fall asleep or drive in the car, hold me tight as I cry a million tears.

I need my outdoorsman and I need him to share his love of the oudoors with our girls. 

I need my hard-working family man.The man that would melt at his daughters' request. The man who told them, "You have the best Mommy ever." The man who assured me that I was doing ok. The man who worried about my lack of sleep (as I type this at 11:45 PM), who told me to sit down and take a break, who could melt the stress and the fears away.  I need to feel his touch and his love. I need to tell him about my day, the girls' days and I need him to be as excited as only a parent can be over the little things they say and do. I need him to see Clara working so hard taking her first steps, waving bye-bye, saying "hi" and giving kisses. I need my partner. They need their Daddy. I'm broken and I don't think I will ever be whole again.

On Community & Grieving

This community is amazing. In times of hardship it pulls together and transforms into a neighborhood. A neighborhood of supportive friends who offer compassion, prayers, help and random acts of kindness at the drop of a hat, without blinking an eye and in the midst of their own struggles and commitments. I have witnessed it on numerous occasions and recently experienced it firsthand. My family has been the recipient of this support network the past couple of months and for that we would like to express our sincere thanks and appreciation. The cards and messages of sympathy, flowers/plants, prayers and acts of kindness continue to be a great comfort to us. We are truly blessed to have so many wonderful friends and to live in such an amazing community.

For reasons unknown to us, our small community is taking a hard hit lately. There has been too much loss, far too soon; far too many new members of these "clubs" nobody asks to join. An article was recently shared with me that spoke about how to support grieving parents. I, unfortunately, am also a member of that club. The article hit the nail on the head, but I've also decided that it equally applies to grieving spouses, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles...grieving FAMILY & FRIENDS. So I wanted to share some highlights with our neighborhood. My hope is that this offers a bit of insight and  reassurance that we are not walking this path alone.

*Remember Them - We want the world to remember our loved one, young or old. Share memories with us and help us relive them. We are always seeking the balance between holding onto our grief and a happy life after our loss. Milestone celebrations (birthdays, graduations, weddings, etc) hit us hard. Please don't walk away.

* We Can't be "Fixed" - There is no roadmap to grief. Each of us has to find a way to live with loss and it is an individual process. We welcome your love and support but please don't tell us that "time heals all wounds." We feel broken and that doesn't just go away. Please be patient with us as we find our new way and please know that when we know what we need, or what you can do for us, we will surely let you know.

* We Need Time Outs - Our family's milestone celebrations are especially hard. No matter how many years go by, the longing for a complete family unit intensifies in the days leading up to these events and explodes on the day of the event. Please give us time to process another year marked by their absence. And then help us remember them.

* Happiness is an Everyday Struggle - We fight to find the balance of missing and grieving for our loved ones and living life in a way that honors them. We want to be happy, but our loss is constantly hovering at the surface of other emotions.

* It's Uncomfortable - Our loss will make you uncomfortable. You will be afraid that you'll make us lose it by remembering that our loved one is gone. Trust me...we know and haven't forgotten. So please speak their name, tell us you're thinking about them, share a story. Tears of remembrance and loving support are far better than tears from unspoken words. And if you can't say anything, then just be there so we know we are supported and cared about.

We grieve because we loved. We are lucky to have had something that makes saying goodbye so incredibly hard. "Grief changes us. The pain sculpts us into someone who understands more deeply, hurts more often, appreciates more quickly, cries more easily, hopes more desperately and loves more openly" (unknown).

http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-17928/what-i-wish-more-people-understood-about-losing-a-child.html

Everything's Going to Work Out

I seem to be having a rough spell these last few days. Missing you like crazy, resentful of those who still have their husbands and best friends, pissed off that our girls are going to grow up without you. The tears are flowing freely again at the drop of a hat. My heart physically hurts. I'm overwhelmed trying to keep up with the day-to-day chores at home, trying to make sure the girls are ok and that I'm there for them, And I have very little patience for their meltdowns and then my heart breaks all over again. I've always described myself as a decision-maker and leader but it's become very apparent to me that I'm not. I haven't made a decision on my own for nearly 11 years...you were always my sounding board, the voice of reason and the spontaneity. Everything rests on my shoulders now...doctor/no doctor...give in to the bedtime battle/make her cry it out...stupid decisions, big decisions...they are all my responsibility.

I was up with Laura (again) at 4:30 this morning...20 minutes before my alarm was set to go off and I was annoyed. I must have drifted off but woke at 5:15. You came to me. I could feel your firm kiss..the whiskers around your mouth. I could smell you. As you walked away from the recliner, you moved to stand by the island in the kitchen. And you said, "Everything's going to work out." I asked you if you really thought I could do this and you just smiled...and I woke up with a sense of calm that I haven't felt in 6.5 weeks.

The calm didn't last long since I cried most of the way to work and off and on throughout the day. But I so desperately needed to feel your presence. So please come back to me...if only in my dreams.

Our Story

Sam and I went to high school together.  He was a class ahead of me and while he always claimed that he tried to date me then, I really have no recollection.  I went to the University of Wyoming and he went to Sheridan College.  At the time, we were both in long-term relationships that caused our paths to cross a few times while I was in my undergrad program.

Well those relationships fizzled (thank God) and in March 2004 our paths crossed again.  We were 21, I was a rodeo queen and he attended my fundraiser event at a local restaurant/bar.  Flirting ensued all night during the event.  After my obligations were finished, I put on "normal" clothes and returned to the bar.  There was a large group of us there that had all gone to high school together so it was somewhat of a reunion.  After getting home at 5 am and getting my butt chewed by my mother (note:  I was 21!) I was sure he'd had enough.  But he kept pursuing and we began officially "dating."

We dated for 4 years and it was so easy.  I remember him asking me a year or two into the relationship, in his mom's basement, who I was going to marry.  And it was just natural and my response was "you."  He proposed in the summer of 2007.  By this time, he had purchased a piece of land and we had ordered a house.  The first night in our new home was September 15, 2007 and we got married on May 24, 2008.  Sam did most of the work on our property himself...built the road, put in the culvert across the creek, septic system, wiring, pump house & water tank, dirt work where the house would be, foundation for the house, etc..  I was there through it all, but not much help.

Our wedding was attended by over 300 people and was called the party of the year.  I remember him telling me how beautiful I looked that day and I hold that in my heart.  Our marriage started and lives went on.  New jobs, new companies.  We started trying to have a family in the summer of 2010 and were lucky enough to get pregnant after 3 months.  Unfortunately, that pregnancy ended in a missed miscarriage in October 2010.  He was my rock and told me that we would be ok because we had each other.  We got pregnant again in January 2011 and had a perfect, easy, stress-filled pregnancy.  Every appointment we were told that it was "textbook".  On October 12, 2011 we went to our 39 week appointment hoping that I had progressed enough to be admitted to the hospital.  And on that day, we were told that our son no longer had a heartbeat.  I collapsed, screamed, yelled.  We cried together and called family.  Sam was again, my rock.  He knew all the right things to say to make me feel better even though I know he was hurting just as much as me.  They induced labor and at 5:45 pm on October 13, 2011 we held our stillborn son.  And we cried...the lost plans, hopes and dreams.  We tried to fit a lifetime of love into a few short hours.  And he told me, again, that we would be ok because we had each other. And as long as we had each other we could make it through anything.

They say that miscarriages and stillbirths rip marriages apart.  But it didn't ours...we relied on each other, confided in each other and our marriage grew.  We were lucky to conceive again in February 2012 and delivered our SCREAMING little girl, Laura, on November 1, 2012 at 38 weeks 5 days. And life was good again.  We were finally parents to a LIVING child and it was the best feeling in the world.  Sam absolutely doted on that little girl from day one.  <3

Not having time/age on our side, we started trying to conceive again the next summer and got a positive test in September 2013.  Another easy, textbook pregnancy and Clara was born on May 14, 2014.  She, too, had her Daddy wrapped around her little finger from day one.  And life was good again.  While we still miss(ed) our little boy, those little girls gave us something to live for.

On January 23, 2015 our lives changed forever.  Sam had left the day before to go on the annual ice fishing trip with his buddies.  It was supposed to be a short weekend trip this year.  He told me the night before he left that he didn't feel like going because he was going to miss his girls...all three of them.  I told him that he'd have fun and he should go...he always felt like this before leaving since the girls were born.  So on the morning of January 22 we all said our goodbyes as he saw us off to daycare/work.  I got a text message the next morning that they had made it to their destination and all was good but they hadn't caught any fish yet.  He also mentioned they had good cell service on the lake, so he'd check in later.  He didn't.  I sent him a text at 5:18 that night and when I didn't get a response figured they were already back at the cabin.  At 8:30, as I was starting to get the girls to bed, there was a knock on the door. It was my mother-in-law (MIL), brother-in-law (BIL), sister-in-law (SIL) and our county sheriff.

My BIL told me that Sam had went through the ice that afternoon and they couldn't find him.  I was in shock and disbelief.  I collapsed into his arms, asking for more details, knowing in my heart that he was gone but refusing to believe it.  I'm told that he was giving a friend and his two sons a ride across the lake on the 4Wheeler as they were done fishing for the day, around 3:30 pm.  They had gone across that route 12 times that day...but this time, the ice broke and they all went through.  The friend and the oldest son were able to crawl out on their own.  Sam and the youngest boy went under.  Sam got them back to the surface.  Some other fisherman threw a PFD and Sam got the boy rigged up.  They pulled him to safety but when they turned around for Sam, he was gone. I'm told it all happened fast...maybe 2-3 minutes.  He surfaced once more after getting the boy out, but then was gone. His buddies had raced across the ice to try to help, calling 911 on their way.  The local fire department dove for him for 3 hours until they had to stop.  And that's when I found out that my life had been completely shattered.

My BIL, Sam's best friend and I left early the next morning to head to the lake...a 4 hour drive. They were bringing in a specialized dive & rescue team and I wanted to be there.  They started their attempt at 8:30 that morning.  The blocks of ice they cut & pulled out of the lake were 18" deep...30' away from the upturned 4-wheeler frozen in the lake.  Around 2:30 pm I watched them pull him from the water. 18" of ice...this never should have happened...that's GREAT ice.  They loaded him in the ambulance and transported him to the funeral home and we met him there.  Walking into that building was one of the hardest things I have ever done (and I've buried an infant son).  He looked like he was just sleeping...and our hearts shattered again, facing reality.

I don't know why this happened. I guess somebody was going to go through the ice that day and if Sam hadn't been there, it would have been that little boy.  And losing a child is not something I would wish on my worst enemy.  But damn it...why did I have to lose my husband at the age of 32?  Why me?  Why us?  Why do our little girls (27 months and 9 months) have to go through life without their Daddy...and not only without him, but without any memories of him except for the ones I create for them through pictures.  It's not fair and I don't understand.  All I know is we have the shittiest luck of anyone I have ever known.

* Spring 1998:  Sam is diagnosed with severe, life-threatening scoliosis at the age of 16.  He undergoes major back surgery to have all but 2 vertebrae fused together. He flat-lined on the table but they were able to bring him back.  I can't recall how many units of blood they had to give him because he had lost so much.  He "grew" 3" after having surgery and he made a full recovery.  Except he had limited mobility...couldn't play baseball (his passion)...but he never complained.  He made do.

* Fall 1998:  Sam's parents were building a new house.  He stopped to visit a friend after football practice before going to help his Dad.  When he got to the property (where MIL currently lives), he found his Dad unresponsive with no pulse.  He had to leave him there to go back to town to call 911 because there isn't cell service near our houses.  And when he followed the ambulance to the hospital, he had to break the news to his mom. He spent the next 16 years looking out for his Mom, acting as an uncle AND grandpa to our niece & nephew and looking up to his brother (7 years older) as a father-figure.

* Fall 2011:  We buried our full-term stillborn son after a "perfect, textbook" pregnancy.  They said it was just bad luck...that it shouldn't have happened and there was no cause.

* January 23, 2015:  My husband died.  DIED.  At the age of 32, I'm a widow with two babies to raise on my own.

* January 31, 2015: We buried our husband, Daddy, brother, son, uncle next to his Dad and our little boy.  Just bad luck...it was good ice and he was doing a good deed for a friend (like always).  It shouldn't have happened.

Bad luck...bad luck...bad luck.  What's next?  When will the other shoe fall?  Can I just take my family and live in a glass house or a big bubble please?  Because I'm about shit-full of bad luck.

I Didn't Sign Up for This

The morning after the last post (so the morning of 2/3) Laura told me out of the blue...twice..."I love you Mommy"  She has never said it unprompted and out of the blue before.  I have to believe that the message came from you through her. <3

But I didn't sign up for this...this crap.  I didn't sign up to be requesting certified copies of my husband's death certificate at the age of 32.  Didn't sign up to be filling out life insurance claims. Didn't sign up to be a one-income household.  Didn't sign up to be requesting social security benefits. Didn't sign up to have 2 out of 3 grave sites filled already.

I didn't sign up to be a fucking single parent.  Didn't sign up to be telling my 2 year-old that Daddy isn't coming home, but that he loves her very much and we can see him in pictures.  Didn't sign up to know that my 8.5 month old will never even remember her Daddy...that all she has are 8 months worth of pictures.

I didn't sign up to make sure all our plans for our girls happen by myself...camping, fishing, 4-wheeling, Yellowstone, Disney World, softball, soccer...LIFE.  Didn't sign up to do the bedtime battle by myself.  Didn't sign up to be the only one to juggle schedules, doctor's appointments, meals.

I didn't sign up for only a 6.5 year marriage. Didn't sign up to be a widow at 32.  Didn't sign up to figure out how I'm going to do this "by myself."

They say that God doesn't give you more than you can handle.  I don't know about that...I don't know how I'm going to handle this.  I'm NOT handling this. I DON'T WANT to handle this.  I didn't sign up for this.

I Should Have Seen It Coming?

Maybe I should have seen it coming. I keep replaying random events of the last 6-9 months over and over in my head, connecting the pieces.  Conversations we had, comments that were made, things we did...at the time they didn't seem out of the ordinary.  Now they seem extraordinary.

Last Thursday morning, the day you left for your trip:  You told me to have fun with the girls and that you wouldn't be around to annoy me.  Haha...not so funny now.

Last Tuesday night:  You were irritated with me because I was going to cancel a doctor's appointment instead of trying to make arrangements for the girls since you were going to have to work late.  You made the arrangements for me and said, "See, that wasn't so hard.  I did it for you so you wouldn't have to ask for help."  I admitted that I don't like asking for help.  You replied: "Well you need to get better at it."  At the time I rolled my eyes...now I'm eating my words trying to figure out how in the world I'm going to do this by myself WITHOUT asking for help....I'm not.

Last Tuesday night:  You came home from work to get me and the girls to go with you to buy the groceries for your trip.  This NEVER happened before.  You ALWAYS went by yourself for trip-groceries. But Laura has recently discovered the kid-sized shopping carts and LOVES to "shop".  When I asked if you were sure you wanted to take us all along, "Sure...why not.  Laura will have fun and i haven't seen her "shop" lately."

This past winter:  You were adamant about building a bookcase for Clara.  I tried to get you to just go buy one but you insisted that it was something you wanted to do for her, so she would have something from you.  Ok...made sense.  You had made Laura a quilt rack.  But looking back, you worked your ass off to get that bookcase (mostly) finished before your trip.

Christmas:  We had agreed not to buy each other gifts.  To focus on the girls and nieces and nephews.  "Santa" brought me a diamond necklace and coordinating necklaces for each of the girls.  The only diamonds you had ever bought me was my wedding ring and a pair of studs for my birthday a few years ago...that I picked out.  You did this on your own and were so proud/excited for us to open them.  You said, "I wanted my girls to have matching necklaces from me...something you'll all always have."  Aw....how sweet.  And now I am so very thankful that you were hard-headed and didn't abide by our "no gifts" rule.

Last fall:  You asked me to check on preference points.  I did...we missed the deadline by one day.  Apparently we must have missed a couple years because not only did you miss out on buying any, you lost all those you had accumulated.  I thought you were going to be pissed...you shrugged it off as an "oh well" and never brought it up again.  Looking back, that was SO strange...hunting was (one of) your passions.

Last fall:  You didn't complain AT.ALL about having family pictures taken.  You were not a picture person AT.ALL and typically raged about "having" to have them done and why couldn't I just photoshop an old pic of you into it.

Last summer: You insisted we take a family camping trip, even though Clara was only a couple months old.  Camping trips in the past typically turned into the moms/women hanging out at the campground with the kids while the dads/men fished all day.  This trip was different...fishing took a backseat and you guys spent more time playing with the kids in the sand and lake than you did fishing. It was awesome and the kids had a blast.

Last week:  You told me you were having second thoughts about going on the annual ice fishing trip.  You said it always sounded good in theory, but the night before it's time to leave you second guess going because you're going to miss "your girls."  "But I know they'll be in good hands, because they'll have their Mommy," you said.  Yeah, yeah....go and have fun, I told you. I knew you always looked forward to these trips and it was a short trip this year...you'd be home in a few days.

The what if's kill me.  The unknown suffocates me.  I don't know how I'm supposed to keep moving forward and raise these girls "by myself."  Yes...I have a huge network of help available.  But that's not the point. The point is we signed up to do this together...they are my responsibility and I owe it to them.  What am I supposed to tell Laura when she asks (again) when Daddy is coming home?  Will she ever really understand or will she just quit asking one day?  How am I supposed to make sure Clara remembers her time with you...she only had 8.5 months.  I don't have any answers.  The only small piece of comfort I find is that you were always the most selfless, giving man I had ever known.  You would give your shirt off your back to anyone, never knew a stranger and was always the first to help whomever needed it.  And that's why you went on the trip this year.  Because you saved the life of that little boy.  Somebody was going in the water and if it hadn't been you, it would've been him.  And you couldn't let another family endure the pain of losing a child. So you put someone else's needs ahead of your own, like you always did.  And now Will has his Daddy and you have yours. And until we all meet again, the girls have their Mommy.

And I'm just gong to have to figure it out and make sure they know they have the best damn Daddy in the whole entire world.  I love you.  I miss you.  Every day is harder than the previous and it's only been 4 days.  But I hold my promise to you...I will not let myself sink to the bottom. I will be strong for our girls.  For you.  For me.  Because right now, it's the only option I have.