The Littlest Larimore

Thursday, February 15, 2018

New Accomplishments, New Pride

Matt loved Super Bowl Sunday. It was a holiday for him. The food, drinks, gathering with friends and family, and of course, football. This year, I wasn't vested in the teams playing. I didn't care. So instead of having a party and making Matt's favorite foods, I decided not to do anything. I laid low. I relaxed. I felt good about my decision. Until bedtime. I crawled into bed and decided to watch the new episode of This Is Us. If you don't watch, you should. If you do, you can likely understand how trigger-filled that show is for me. During this particular episode, there were times I felt like I was watching myself on screen. I kept having to pause the TV and catch my breath as I was crying so hard. I also realized that by not doing anything was my way of avoiding a difficult day. I have never used avoidance as a way to try and cope the loss of Matt. I know how unsuccessful and damaging it is to try and avoid the grief that comes with his passing. As I laid in bed on Super Bowl Sunday, my emotions came pouring out of me. I realized, once again, how it is better to face my emotions than run from them. I realized how I should have handled the day. I saw that recognizing Matt in some way, could have made my evening just a little bit easier.

The sadness I experienced that night was so overwhelming. It was Super Bowl Sunday and I had done nothing about it. I didn't even have the chance to visit Matt. I felt I failed him. I sobbed during This Is Us as I watched similarities of my life unfold on TV. In that moment, sadness wasn't something I tried to avoid or pretend wasn't there. I knew it was necessary to cry and grieve. I knew that it was warranted and Matt deserved it.

This last month meant a long-anticipated trip to Disneyland with Olivia. I had been planning this surprise trip since well before Christmas. She had no idea we were going until we got to the airport. Spending time with just Olivia was amazing. We had the best time I could have imagined. I often forget just how little Olivia really is. Seeing her around Rylan all the time, I see an older child. But seeing her in Disneyland I saw her in a different light. I feel closer to and more in love with Olivia than ever before. I have a new appreciation for her and the way her mind works, how she loves, what she enjoys, and what makes her crabby. Being alone with her gave me the opportunity to learn so much about her that can easily get lost in the mundaneness of the day-to-day.

I knew Disneyland would also bring an ache to my heart. New experiences with Matt and my kids are really hard. They are hard because he should always be part of them. He should be part of the text messages, phone calls, planning, and excitement. Also, my most recent memory of Disneyland is from 2013 when I went with Matt. We had just had two miscarriages and my doctor wanted us to wait a few months before trying again. Matt and I wanted to go somewhere that would forever change when we had children. So we picked Disneyland. We had such an amazing time together. It was so fun going as grown adults and without children. Naturally, taking Olivia reminded me a lot of my time there with Matt. I wish so badly Matt and I could have taken Olivia to Disneyland together and seen her excitement together.

I decided to spend time on our trip and really be proud of myself. If anyone had asked me in the last year or two if I would ever take Olivia to Disneyland alone I would have said: "absolutely not." Why? Many reasons. Traveling alone. Reminders of Matt. Anxiety in new places. Cost. Leaving Rylan. The list goes on. I came home from our trip with a new sense of pride for myself. I don't acknowledge my accomplishments very often. I don't say that I am proud of myself. I don't want to come across as boastful or full of myself. But I am learning that part of really loving myself means taking the time to recognize the steps I am making towards a good life for the kids and myself.

My therapy sessions lately have been similarly themed as we talk about my accomplishments. My therapist has recently said how she wishes she could have recorded me when I first started seeing her. She sees a major transformation in my perspective, my accomplishments, and my process of grief. She takes the time to make sure I know that she is proud of me. We talk about how this doesn't mean that my grieving is complete. Or that life is suddenly easier. There is no end to processing something like the loss of Matt. What I have learned from her is that if I am mindful of what days are ahead and how it might make me feel, I can cope and handle my grief better. That also means being ok with the overwhelming sadness and crying. Tears bring healing. Crying is good. Just when I think I have a grasp on grief, something comes along to remind me that this process is never over. This hole in my heart will never fully repair. And Matt's absence will always be felt.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Olivia Turns 4

As I begin to write, it is January 8th and not even 6:00 AM. I shouldn’t be up yet I have been awake since 2:15 this morning. My brain just won’t let me go back to sleep. I finally gave in, got some coffee, and am sitting in bed watching Ellen. Writing is such a release for me. It helps me get some of what’s on my mind, out into words, allowing a release of sorts. This often leads to some mental space allowing me to sleep better.

I can’t help but spend time thinking about Olivia. January 9th was her birthday. When the New Year rolls in, I find myself ready to get my house back in order and reorganized. My internal “nesting” kicks into high gear. I start cleaning, purging, organizing, and planning. I have lists galore of the things I want to get done for her birthday party.

If you don’t know this about me, I am a planner. I am a do-er. I am Type A personality and hate when I don’t accomplish things I am supposed to do or things I want to do. This trait was highly beneficial for me when Matt passed. On one hand, I isolated myself and shut myself off from the world. I struggled with going out in public and doing anything I used to do. But I also had my long lists of things that needed to be done and places that needed to be called.

I remember one of my first meetings with my financial adviser after losing Matt. Jeff sat with me in my mom and dad’s kitchen and had a list of people he wanted me to call before our next meeting. Calls like to Matt’s HR department, the garbage company, the credit union where Matt’s Jeep was financed, etc. Our next meeting wasn’t scheduled for weeks but by the next morning, I had checked everything off my list. Jeff laughed when I emailed him with the information I had gathered. At our next meeting, he handed me a binder to keep important documents in. He gave it to all his clients but he said I am the only one who had it color-coordinated, 3-hole punched, labeled, and brought it with to every appointment.

Planning Olivia’s birthday party is so fun for me. I enjoy searching Pinterest for ideas on the theme she chooses. This girl loves tigers so when she said “Mom, I want a tiger party,” I quickly started brainstorming ways to turn our house into a jungle. I enjoy the busyness that planning events provide. It is a welcomed distraction to keep my mind off the bigger issues that are constantly circling in my head.

Olivia’s and Rylan’s birthdays weigh heavy on my heart. Despite my best efforts to plan the perfect days for them, I can’t ignore the huge piece missing. I have said before, and I will say it again, Olivia and Rylan are my heart and my joy. I was born to be a mom and I love motherhood. I do. It is tiring, hard, draining, messy, and wonderful. What makes my motherhood even better is that Olivia and Rylan are Matt’s babies. He chose me to raise his kids. He saw in me the ability to be a good mom and entrusted me with a huge and very important task. Obviously, we didn’t know his life would end so suddenly. But I am thankful every day to Matt for making me a mom.

With this thankfulness, there’s also pain. I am a mom because of Matt. I think about the moments when I shared the news with Matt that we were pregnant. Four different times we were elated. Twice we were heartbroken when we miscarried. I think of when Matt first heard their heartbeats or saw Olivia on the ultrasound for the first time. I think about when he first felt her kick and how he was sure it was me just messing with him. I remember him recording me in the middle of the night when I was really pregnant because my snoring was keeping him awake. And then I think about my labor and delivery. Our moments together during that life-changing event were so beautiful. It hadn’t even been 24 hours since Olivia was born when I looked at Matt and said to him, “I want to do that again.” He thought I was absolutely nuts. But my heart was bursting with love for this little girl, for Matt as my husband, for Matt as a dad, and for the journey we had been on to become parents.

Matt was only with Olivia for 21 months of her life. I strongly believe that he will remain an important role in her life. I believe she will have a connection and relationship with Matt because of the diligent effort I make to ensure she knows him. But that connection and relationship also come from Matt. He adored being a dad. Every so often, Olivia will bring up a memory of Matt that surprises me and catches me off guard. If she’s eating something new or sweet, she will say “Mom, Daddy liked this. Mom, did Daddy like gumballs? Gumballs were Daddy’s faaaavvvorite.” Did he like gumballs? Maybe at some point but I wouldn’t add them to his list of favorites. I just love that she connects things she loves, to her Daddy. I love that she has genuine real memories of him. I love that she talks about him and remembers him.

Olivia and I were recently driving home one night. She said to me “Mom, I want a Daddy. I have a Daddy. Daddy is in Heaven. Everyone else has a Daddy. I want a Daddy.” Despite my best efforts, I still wonder if I failed her. I wonder if my response was enough. I wonder if telling her that Daddy is always with her and that he can hear her and she can talk to her is sufficient. Of course it’s not. This little girl should have a Daddy here. Not in Heaven. Not visiting him at a cemetery. He should be here to celebrate her and her birthday and all the changes life brought her this last year.

Olivia’s birthday and the day of her party were just as they should be for a four-year-old. We ate donuts and “Old MacDonalds” and opened presents. We had dance parties and Olivia told everyone that would listen that she is now FOUR! We went to visit Matt on her birthday. We toasted her dad and acknowledged him in our celebrations. I decorated our house all week leading up to her party and did my best to make sure Olivia felt incredibly special.

Like any other event I have in our home, there is always a letdown when everyone leaves for the night. The house quickly becomes quiet and dark and reality sets in that Matt wasn’t part of another very important day. It happens every time. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, family gatherings, and birthdays. Everyone leaves and suddenly I am left feeling nauseous and consumed with the heaviness of my grief. The part that still surprises me, and probably always will, is how heavy the grief still feels. I feel like I prep myself for these big days. I do everything I can. I talk to Matt, I attend therapy, I reach out to those I'm closest with, but inevitably, there is still a huge letdown. There is still a major feeling of loss and sadness.

I have celebrated more of Olivia's without Matt than I have with him. I never thought about that until right now. Matt was only alive to celebrate ONE birthday with our sweet girl. ONE. A shift I have seen though is my ability to hold things together. I am able to get through most situations without being caught off guard by my grief. I have come to expect that the night will bring my pain. These milestones and parties are also a beautiful reminder of those in our corner. It shows me how blessed we are by the ones who walk through life with me. My children are loved by so many. I am thankful for outreach from those who thought of her and wished her a happy birthday. Each acknowledgment of her day makes me thankful with Matt that we have such loving and supportive people in our lives.

Olivia's birthday interview

Party favors for Olivia's friends

Decorated all week long

Tiger paw cupcakes

Decorated and ready for her party

Included her favorite snacks

Olivia's "boyfriend"

Joey, Christie, & Stella. Thankful for this friendship.

Auntie Well and Uncle Andy

GG & Papa Cot

Grandma Val & Papa Larry

Olivia & Sienna

This sums up the three of us so well. Olivia thinking she's being sweet when really bugging Rylan, Rylan wanting to move, and me just wanting to capture the sweet moments.

Uncle Josh, Kash, & Auntie Katie

Tuckered out after a full, fun, and busy day

We realized after she had fallen asleep that Grandma and Papa Mark didn't get their picture with her so we improvised.

Friday, December 15, 2017

Stress, sleepless nights, and an empty bed...

Over the course of the last month, I have experienced an entirely different kind of stress. Stress that has left me puddled in meltdowns, caused so much anxiety, and made wonder if I will ever sleep again.

Back around Thanksgiving, I went to therapy. During the hour with my therapist, I crumbled beneath all the things that life was throwing my way. I was tired. Stressed. My therapist was incredibly worried about how little sleep I had been getting. Shortly after we moved into our house, Olivia started sleeping with me. It has been her bed as much as mine for the last year and a half. I have talked in depth about this with my therapist. She has reassured me time and time again that as long as my sleep wasn't being disrupted that sharing with Olivia was just fine. And it had been fine. I slept great with her beside me. In fact, it was a comfort just as much for me as it was for her. But recently, I hadn't been sleeping well. Olivia squirms and kicks, waking me several times in the night wanting water or to talk to me about what she wanted to do the following day. During my therapy session prior to Thanksgiving, I was given the task to get Olivia to sleep in her own bed. It was my homework. That afternoon I went home and explained to Olivia that she was going to sleep in her own room. I prepped her as best as I could knowing that we were in for a long night. And I was right. Olivia got up at least 30 times that first night. So many tears...and not just from her. After that first night though, she started getting better and better about staying in her room.

I thought I was ready for Olivia to sleep in her own room. Sharing a bed with her meant I was never alone. It meant I couldn't wake up before her. It was not having a space of my own. I thought an empty bed would be a sense of freedom. Ultimately, it made the loneliness I feel even more intense. I have only slept by myself a handful of times since Matt passed. Now with Olivia in her own bed, it is a vivid and hard visual reminder that I am alone.

Olivia sleeping in her own room didn't mean there was peace and restful sleep for the three of us. In fact, it meant quite the opposite. Along with sleep training Olivia, I had been mounded by financial stress that I haven't ever experienced. Prior to marrying Matt, I lived at home. When we got married, he took over the duties of paying bills and making sure everything was set and secure for us. And he did a great job. What I didn't learn, since Matt handled everything for us, is that finances can have highs and lows. I also didn't realize the amount of pressure I would feel running a household entirely on my own. I kept getting hit with large bill after large bill: filing taxes, a crappy painter getting undeserved pay, a huge vet bill, stitches when Rylan cut my finger, and now the stress of preparing for the holidays. The list of financial stress is long. Add to that having to find a new health insurance plan only to realize that it would cost more money and having to find a new doctor, etc, etc, etc. Thankfully, I have the guidance of a financial advisor. We recently met and he comforted me with where things are at. He told me that everyone blows their budget from time to time. He helped set up a plan and made me feel (almost) entirely better.

Olivia finally found a rhythm and comfort for sleeping in her own bed. My meeting about my finances should have made me feel so much better. And then...Rylan got the flu. Every night he would wake up sometime around midnight, crying. I would go into his room to find him and his crib covered in vomit. I would stick him in the tub, rinse his sheets out, get laundry started, rock him back to sleep, and get back to bed an hour or so later. And then he would do it again. And again. This pattern went on like that for a week. Nighttime became dreaded. Even when I was sleeping, I was waiting for the sound of him crying to wake me. Knowing the crying signaled more vomit. Rylan's flu didn't just mean that he and I didn't sleep. It meant that his curious sister would wake up wondering what was going on and if her brother was ok. It was the juggle of trying to get a sick baby cleaned up and back to sleep and coerce a three-year-old to get back in her bed.

It was during that week that I would sit in Rylan's room at night and sob. I would finally get Rylan comfortable and clean, I would look at the clock and realize how much sleep I was missing, and just cry. I was angry. I was worn out. I was stressed. I would sit there and tell myself that I didn't sign up for this. I didn't choose this. I married and had children with Matt with the intention of having a partner for life. I expressed this anger to my therapist recently and she asked me what Matt would have been good at when dealing with sick kids, finances, and long to-do lists. I told her how good he was at seeing what he could to do lighten my load. He didn't need to be asked or reminded. He saw where he could pull his weight and just did it. Whether it would have been laying in Olivia's bed with and getting her back to sleep, helping with Christmas shopping, hanging lights, or just saying "we are going to be ok." Matt and I were equals in our home. We shared the burdens and the triumphs. And now I struggle with how I manage it all on my own.

Single parenting is incredibly hard. I never knew the amount of pressure or stress single parenting would bring. It means always being on. Even if I do get away for a short time, it means that I have to be accessible and prepared should they need me. I've always been a busy homebody. What I mean by that is a busy myself during the day. Running from activity to activity and keeping us out and about. But during the evenings, I like to be home. I like to sit in the quiet and reflect on the comfort and safety of my home while also recouping from the busy day. Being a homebody means I have to be diligent about getting out with my friends. And being a single parent makes that even more of a challenge.

Everyone I know, everyone I socialize with, has a husband. So when a girlfriend asks if I want to get together for dinner, it means arranging a sitter. And even though my sitters are the grandparents, it still means challenges. If I happen to be out after the kids go to bed, most of the time I get home to find Olivia asleep on the couch waiting for my arrival. Or if she is in bed it means that she cried before going to sleep wondering when mommy will be home. Being out also makes me feel guilty that I, their only parent, isn't home to tuck them in and say their prayers. I also feel guilty anytime anyone watches my kids for any reason which I know is something I have to work on. With Matt being gone, I put a ton of pressure on myself to be with them at all times. They are missing out on so much by not having a dad. I never want them to look back at their life and feel as though their mom was absent.

Rylan is now 20 months old, the same age Olivia was when Matt passed. Over the course of the last month, I have looked at him differently. I see all that his world encompasses, who he knows, what he likes, and what makes him nervous. I see all of his life and what Matt was able to experience with Olivia. And then I see her. I see Olivia at almost 4 and how much of her life has changed since we lost him. The milestone of Rylan hitting 20 months has been emotional for me because I wonder what Olivia grasped as her world was turned upside down. I look at him and wonder what must have been going through Olivia's mind in the days and weeks following his passing.

We are 10 days away from Christmas. A time of year that should be joyful and exciting has turned into a feeling of obligation. It is our 3rd Christmas without Matt and isn't any easier. In fact, there are new challenges that I see this year that I didn't in the years prior. The kids being older, more opinionated, and busier means it is harder to get out and shop. It is harder to be outside hanging lights since Rylan doesn't know where the sidewalk ends and the street begins. It requires all decorations being higher than 3 feet so things don't get broken. I know once Christmas is finally here I will be able to sit back and say that it all got done. I will see the excitement and magic through Olivia and Rylan's eyes. I will create new memories with my kids and our families while we all greatly miss Matt.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Have the Tough Conversations

I've touched on this subject a little bit before. But with the dust being settled and probate being over, I think it is important to write again about the importance of a plan and having tough conversations.

At the time of Matt's passing, I was 29 and he was 33. We never talked about things like a will or life insurance. I remember standing in Matt's hospital room and thinking to myself that I will never be able to figure it all out. I didn't think I would be able to navigate all the decisions and stress that comes with adulthood and raising a family. I never had to. I went from living with my mom and dad to being married to Matt. He paid the bills, did our taxes, made sure our health insurance policies were current, invested in stocks, and set up retirement funds. He never kept me in the dark but I also didn't focus on these topics because I didn't have to. With his passing, I quickly started learning so much about so many areas that I never thought I would.

One of these unfamiliar territories was probate. If you don't know, as I didn't, probate is the process of making sure a person's estate is given to the appropriate beneficiaries. This is the case when there isn't a will or if beneficiaries aren't assigned. (That's my basic understanding of it anyway). When Matt passed, I wasn't immediately entitled to everything "we" owned because the reality of it was that we weren't on everything together. I had to hire a probate attorney to sort through Matt's estate: our rental house, different accounts, stocks, bank accounts, etc. I had to attend meetings with my attorney and try and give them information that I just didn't have. I started this process and was told it would take 3-4 months to complete it. I was told it would cost a certain amount. In actuality, it took nearly 18 months and over double the estimated cost to get everything in order. Because of Olivia and Rylan, a guardian ad litem had to be involved to make sure that their deserved portions were accounted for and given to them in a way that met requirements.

I also had to decide how Matt would be buried and what type of service we would have for him. This was a team effort as Matt's family and I navigated some really tough decisions. I remember the funeral home asking me if I knew what Matt's wishes were. And I didn't. We never talked about cremation versus burial. We never talked about our preference of cemeteries or songs we would want played at our memorial service. Why would we?

Matt and I didn't have a will or supplemental life insurance. I wasn't assigned as his beneficiary on everything. Why would he think he should call his HR department and make sure things were as they should be? Of course he didn't give much thought to the importance of life insurance. Of course we didn't talk about how we wanted to be buried. These conversations are hard to even imagine. But they are even harder to live.

I have learned so much that I never thought I would need to. I'm certainly not an expert but I have had to navigate through some really hard topics and unfamiliar territories. All of this meant added stress. It meant phone calls and meetings that I had to stumble through because most of the time I didn't know what I was talking about. Grieving the loss of Matt is hard enough but adding in the stress from unfamiliarity, finances, and health care was incredibly daunting. Getting everything settled took so much time, money, and organization.

I know this sounds like a topic written for people of my age and maybe younger. But I can't tell you how many people I have talked to who are twice my age, even older, and still haven't had these discussions. My parents had "Will" written on their white board in their kitchen for longer than I can even believe. It was their reminder to finalize their will. That reminder stayed there so long that it wasn't even looked at anymore. When we lost Matt, it was the push they needed to get their will finalized. It was the push they needed to get life insurance.

Losing Matt has opened doors to conversations that families don't want to have. It has allowed us to talk about what we want when we pass. It has allowed us to talk about life support, organ donations, and memorial services. The easy thing to do is not have these conversations. But the stress that comes from losing someone who doesn't have everything planned, is unimaginable. I don't fault Matt at all for not having these things together. Like I said, why would he? He would've been in the same boat as me had I been the one to pass. We, as a team, as husband and wife, didn't have a grasp on the importance of what would happen should one of us pass. Unfortunately, it has meant me having to figure it all out.

My urge, my plea, is to have these tough conversations. Even if you're not married or in a relationship, do it for your loved ones that would have to piece everything together should something terrible happen. Life is fleeting. At some point, we will all need a plan. Do it now. Have a plan. Tell someone where your plan is. Even if its simply scribbled down on a napkin, make it clear what your wishes are. Get the supplemental life insurance. Assign beneficiaries. Get a will. It might mean an added bill each month to pay for life insurance and it might mean paying a few hundred dollars for a will, but the importance of these are priceless.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Two Years

17,520 hours. 730 days. 24 months. 2 years. It seems like an eternity. It feels like just yesterday. October is so daunting. It brings an ache to my chest that is heavier than normal. It reminds me of all my "lasts" with Matt. The last time we watched football, ate together, talked, kissed, touched...October reminds me of all that is missing. It is full of triggers and brings emotions to the surface that I so desperately try and manage the rest of the year.

For me, the pain really surfaces again starting on October 11th. That marks the day of when life as I knew it began to unravel. It was an ordinary, sunny, Sunday. A morning spent at home watching the Seahawks game. The last game we would watch together. It amazes me how life can be turned upside down without any signs or any warnings.

I think for many, this year is so much harder than last year. The shock of Matt's passing has subsided slightly, leaving us with a clearer picture of what life looks now. This leaves us with the unwanted opportunity to really miss Matt. To really grieve him. But isn't that what he deserves? Doesn't he deserve to be missed, talked about, cried over? He was an incredible person. So why wouldn't we feel like our hearts have been ripped in half? Why wouldn't we want to continue talking about him?

Since the 11th, I’ve been reliving the nightmare in my head. Every time I look at the clock I picture where I was two years ago. What I was doing. What I was hearing. I try and not let my mind go there. I try and stay positive and think about Matt’s life and how beautiful it was. But my brain knows I have to to go there. My brain knows that healing comes from tears.

My mom and I went to the grocery store the other day to get some stuff for today. We will gather with family and send balloons with messages to Matt. Afterwards, we will be together, remembering Matt and what today signifies, while eating some of his favorite foods. I was checking out at the store and thought how it must look like we were going to have a fun time this weekend. We had balloons, flowers, beer, and lots of stuff to make food Matt enjoyed. At that moment, our cashier asked “do you have any fun plans for the weekend?” After my mom explained what we were doing, and why, he had tears in his eyes. His response was so genuine. He didn’t try and sugarcoat anything. And just kept saying “that just sucks.”

I’ve heard often since Matt’s passing that “time heals all wounds” or “it gets better with time.” People desperately trying to find the right words and offer comfort. While I appreciate their attempts so very much, I don’t believe these statements. I’m not any less sad today than I was two years ago. I certainly don’t miss Matt any less. In fact, the opposite is true. I miss him more.

It seems as though there’s nothing profound on my heart today. I find that I don’t have the words or the message or the ability to articulate how I feel today. All I know is today is hard. Today is heavy. Today I’m sad and broken and missing Matt in a new way. I’m missing him in a familiar way.

Two years. The blink of an eye. An eternity. Much too long.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Anxiety

Anxiety isn't something I experienced much of prior to losing Matt. Since his passing, I've learned how debilitating it can be. It can feel as though you're suffocating.

I've mentioned some of my struggles with anxiety in prior blog posts. My anxiety came right away when we were in the hospital with Matt. Since I was pregnant, it was important to keep my stress and anxiety low. Seems like an impossible task but my doctor quickly prescribed medication to help my anxiety and help me sleep. I'm thankful for those meds because even when I was on them, my anxiety was incredibly high. Anxiety attacks are horrible and sometimes embarrassing. They are also very scary. I remember one night, being in the middle of an anxiety attack, and my dad wanting to call 911 because I could not breathe. I remember night after night sitting on the couch with my foot jiggling away. I was completely unaware of it happening until my mom or dad would mention it.

As I became stronger, I realized that my medication wasn't needed anymore. The tools I've learned in therapy are absolutely the reason I was able to wean from my meds. Without therapy, I think I'd still be on them. But this doesn't mean I don't still suffer from anxiety.

Every single time I leave my house, I'm anxious. I never know where triggers lie. I never know when I might melt into a puddle of tears. I've been at the store numerous times and had to leave because of a song that comes on that reminds me of Matt. I've been at the gym and sobbed beneath my hat because of a song that starts playing. It's not just music. It's can be a smell or how the weather is. It can be an event I'm going to alone or someone innocently asking me what my husband does. It can be trying my best to avoid triggers but somehow, something still affects me.

I recently went out with my best friend, Brittney, and her husband, Ryan. We decided to grab a drink at Farrelli's. I almost told them that I wanted to pick a different place but knew if I had a break down that they would understand. Farrelli's is full of memories related to Matt. I threw a surprise party for his 30th birthday there. We went to dinner with his mom's family the day after finding out I was pregnant with Olivia. I remember this because only his mom and dad knew our news. And I remember sitting there with them thinking how no one knew I was carrying a baby. It was also where I met Matt and his best friend, Eli, the day before Thanksgiving when Olivia was just a baby. They grabbed a bite, some beer, took Olivia, and I went next door and had a manicure and pedicure in peace.

These are all very random memories, and may seem insignificant, but they are the ones I hold onto that keep Matt alive in my heart.

When I sat down with Brittney and Ryan at Farrelli's, "A Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong started playing. This song is significant because it reminds me of Val and her relationship with Matt and Justin. It's the song she danced to with both of them and their weddings. Every time I hear it, I think of them. So when it started playing, I knew it was somehow Matt telling me to be ok in that moment with my friends. It made me smile. It was also profound moment because it ended up being one of the only songs played in the restaurant that night since the Cougar football game was on.

There are also really obvious situations that I can’t put myself in. My dad recently had a total knee replacement. In the past, I’ve been at every doctor appointment and surgery he’s ever had. When his knee replacement was scheduled, I had every intention of going with my mom to keep her company and be there with them. As the day approached, my anxiety rose higher and higher. The thought of spending time in a hospital, in a waiting room, and being in a recovery room was too much. There was also the thought of having to use the soap there and having it smell like the soap from our time spent with Matt. The soap stands out in my memory. Constantly washing my hands every time I went into Matt’s room. Hoping that by doing my small part of keeping away germs and possible infection that it would somehow save him.

Not being able to go with my mom and dad for surgery was so hard on me. Throughout surgery, my mom kept my siblings and myself informed in a group text. Even living through it via text was hard! I know I made the right decision by not going with them. But it also stirred up so much anger. Anger that I couldn’t be part of it. Anger how every aspect of my life is impacted by Matt’s passing.

We are just weeks away from the two year anniversary of Matt’s passing. I hate the word anniversary in this context. Isn’t an anniversary something worth celebrating? It could be easy to argue that it is a celebration that he is Home with Jesus. But it’s not. He should be here with us. I know the change of seasons means a new wave of pain. I know the next few weeks are going to be incredibly hard. I know as we approach that day I will feel pain and sadness that is new and also very familiar. There will be daily reminders of what we faced two years ago. With the shock subsiding a little, it is easier to see that this is life now. And with that realization comes a lot of new pain.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Matt As A Dad

I ache for my children. I hurt that they will never know their dad the way they should. I am incredibly sad to think of all the memories, milestones, and day to days that Matt isn't a part of. Missing Matt as a dad is another component of grief that is hard to delve into.

When Matt passed, Olivia was 21 months old. During that time, I saw him change. I remember telling Matt I was pregnant. It was after 9 months of trying, two miscarriages, two D&Cs, and so many tears. When I finally got a positive pregnancy test, we both breathed a small sigh of relief but still knew we were on a road with a lot of caution signs before we could fully relax. The minute I told Matt I was pregnant with our third pregnancy, I saw him change in a different way.

Matt always worked hard. He was committed to his career and was incredibly successful. Knowing he had a baby coming into our home changed his focus. And although he rarely talked about work, I could feel the change. The entire time I was pregnant, Matt was in tune with all that was about to change. Some of those changes made him squirm while others he was thrilled for. He heard from his best friend, Eli, the joys and the horrors of parenting. More often than not, Matt was so excited about starting a family.

I remember Matt during labor and delivery. He was calm. He was patient. He was encouraging and kind. Which shouldn't be any surprise since that's how he approached so much of his life. I remember he kept asking if I was ok. And finally, I calmly said to him, "Matt, I'm in labor. I'm ok but stop asking me that." The second Matt laid eyes on Olivia his life changed forever. He looked at me in a new way from then on. He adored her. He instantly fell completely in love with her.

Matt was a really good dad. I'll be honest, I was a little nervous about whether or not Matt would have that natural instinct to be a dad. But 9 times out of 10, he did.

One of my favorite memories of Matt as a dad was when we were going to spend the day at his mom and dad's beach house. He wanted to know how he could help and I asked if he could pack up some food for Olivia. I suggested he make half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Later that day, we were at the beach and I was getting out Olivia's lunch. When I pulled her sandwich out of the fridge, I saw that he had made half of a sandwich as I suggested but he didn't cut the piece of bread in half and piece it together. Instead, Matt spread peanut butter and jelly on a whole piece of bread and stuck it open-faced in a Ziplock bag. I laughed so hard when finding his attempts. I loved knowing I could tease him about it and it wouldn't hurt his feelings or make him feel inadequate. He kept saying "you told me to make half a sandwich so I did." Which, he was right. He had made half.

Another time Matt had me cracking up was when we went to Point Defiance for a walk and took Maci to the dog park. When we were unloading the car, I asked him if Olivia needed her diaper changed. He stuck a couple fingers in her diaper "to check" and quickly realized that his hand was covered in poop. I laughed as I tried to help him clean up his hand and explain there are better ways to check if a diaper is dirty.

All in all, Matt was a really great dad. He saw when I needed a break. He knew how to make Olivia laugh. He danced with her often and always pointed out the moon. I never felt like I was parenting alone. We were a team before we had kids and an even stronger team after.

I wanted kids for a really long time and our road to have them wasn't the easiest. I say this because I never want to complain about being a mom.. I know how many people struggle and are never successful. I know there are many people who never get to experience parenthood or who have great loss and heartache because of kids. But it's also easy to see just how hard raising kids really is. I think the phase I'm in with Olivia and Rylan is particularly hard. The other day I had just enough time to clean the kitchen and put away toys while they napped. My hope was to have the floors picked up so I could run the vacuum when they woke up. Instead, they woke up while I was still putting away laundry. And by the time I was done, I came to realize all the work had been undone and I couldn't vacuum until things were picked up again. It's a constant song of "Mom, watch" (Olivia) and "ooook!" (look-Rylan)... It's the never ending request for snacks and the feeling of always standing in the kitchen. It's the constant diapers that need changing and the bottoms that need wiping-both seem to happen at the same time. I try and tell myself that someday I'll miss this phase. Someday I'll wish they were this young...but right now, it's incredibly hard.

I hear quite often, "I don't know how you do it." I take this as a compliment because I hope it appears as though I've got it together. The reality is, I have no other choice. I have no time to think about all that's involved with raising Olivia and Rylan by myself. It's certainly exhausting and incredibly hard. But it's also rewarding and fun. Being a mom is what I was born to do. They need me as much as I need them. I want them to look back someday and be proud that I'm their mom.. I want them to tell me someday that they know Matt would be pleased at the job I've done. I want them to know their dad because of how readily and how often we talk about him. And I want them to confidently feel the love he has for both of them.

I've officially been a single parent longer than I parented with Matt. This milestone is hard for me. I didn't have Matt here long as a dad. But the time that I did have him, I immediately saw how amazing he was at it. Part of me doesn't know any different. I still confide in Matt with all my parenting decisions. I talked to him about where and when to send Olivia for preschool. I have sat in Rylan's room late in the night, rocking him to sleep, and asking Matt to please help Rylan calm down so we can go to bed. I have gone weekly to the cemetery and shared stories with Matt about the kids and cried to him when it has been overwhelming. But I have also never been a co-parent with both kids. Matt never met Rylan. A reality that feels like a punch to the stomach every time I think about it. Much of me knows that I've done this on my own. But I long for Matt to walk through the door and say "go take a shower. I'll finish feeding them dinner." Or, "go have an evening with your friends. I'll get the kids to bed." Looking through pictures to add to this blog is therapeutic and painful at the same time. I have so many pictures of Matt and Olivia. But those memories abruptly end. I have tons of pictures but they will never be enough.