When Liana is sick, it scares me so. Just yesterday I was thinking about our last day with Lev, and wishing I would have noticed something differently, or said something different, or just somehow have known that he was so ill. I was replaying everything I knew and everything we talked about and trying to figure out what I could have said or seen or done differently to bring him to the hospital that evening. I don't think there was anything that would have made me go to the hospital, but I wish there had been. Even if we had gone to the hospital, they probably wouldn't have done anything as his symptoms were mild and he didn't have symptoms of meningitis. But, still, as a mother, I feel that I should have known, should have done something different.
Lev said his legs hurt the afternoon before he died. When we walked down to the waterfall he was very slow going back up because of it. We kept and eye on him and tried to assess how he was doing. But, he often had growing pains over the years, and he was in a growth spurt, so it wasn't that unusual. He also tended to exaggerate (or feel super strongly) certain pains, so it was hard to tell what was really going on. That evening by the campfire his legs were sore, he didn't have much appetite for dinner, and he had a bit of the chills, so we thought he was getting the flu. We gave him Tylenol but it didn't help. It didn't seem that bad. We walked to the bathrooms and he seemed okay, walking slowly but okay. We talked about plans to go canoeing in Lake Louise the next day, assuming he was better. We wondered if we should go to a hotel instead of camping but decided it wouldn't help to be in a hotel. When Lev did go to bed, after eating yogurt and graham crackers he said he was feeling better, so I spent the rest of the evening looking at the guidebook planning our outing the next day. Then he complained that we were making too much noise when we put the rain tarp on before we went to sleep and he seemed totally himself. I thought he was fine.
I wish he had had some terrible symptom that would have motivated us to seek medical attention. I didn't even know the symptoms of meningitis. But, if he had developed a weird rash, or a sore neck, we might have thought he was really ill and done something different. While sitting at the campfire, while Tony and Jaal were on a little bike ride, Lev said to me, "What if I die tonight?" and I replied, "People don't die from the flu like that. You'll be fine. If you are sick tomorrow we will go to the doctor." Lev and I had talked about death a few times in the months prior. He said he was often afraid of death, and he would think about it when going to bed. We talked about it, and I told him he could always come and sleep in our room or in the room nearby if he wanted and we talked about how unlikely it was to die at his age and wondered why he was thinking about it.
The last time we talked about this was about six weeks before he died. It seemed like a normal concern at his age. So, when he asked me about dying I just assumed he was referring to our previous conversations, and I tried to make him feel better. I wish I had asked more probing questions. Maybe I could have gotten him to tell me something that would have made me have a different reaction. Something that would have made me take him to a hospital; something that would make them take it seriously, do a spinal tap, or whatever they would have needed to do to figure it out. The idea that I didn't know, that I thought he was fine, is very hard to live with. I feel like I let him down in the worst possible way.
When Liana is sick, how am I to know that a little fever is just a little fever? She doesn't seem that sick. Tylenol made her feel better. She was 101.4 though, and it scared us. She was lethargic and cuddly until the Tylenol kicked in. Then she was playing and happy. But I worry. It makes me feel scared and incompetent. Like when Jaal passed out on the airplane, I just creates this fiery rock in the pit of my stomach. Potential impending doom.
It also puts everything back in perspective. Who cares if I decide to go back to work, or move to Costa Rica, or buy a house. Compared to keeping your kid alive none of it matters. I feel grief, worry, and hopelessness all bundled up inside.
I really have no way of knowing if she will live through the night, although at the moment she seems fine. We never really know. I often imagine her being hit by a driver who swerves off the road, or dying in some other suddenly tragic way, although I try not to think about it. I know I'm not really in control of her future, and when she is sick I realize it even more.
It is hard to parent knowing how little control you really have. I suppose that's why the Costa Rican's end every plan with, "Si Dios permite." If God permits...
November 30, 2013
November 24, 2013
How often do we think of Lev
Thinking of Lev.
How often do I think of Lev?
I was talking about this in grief group, trying to reassure a recently bereaved parent that, although the emotions can be as raw as the first year at times, there is usually more time between emotions.
It doesn't take my breath away as often but I think of Lev a lot. I remember reading someone saying that it becomes like a brick you carry in your pocket. This seems true for me. I am used to carrying it around, but it weighs me down, and often I just reach down and sort of rub on it, knowing that it is an important part of me. Sometimes I don't even notice it for a while, and then my mind floats back.
I was talking to someone this week who said she feels like she has this little sun in her body and she knows she can never quite touch it or she will just melt, but otherwise she does okay. Her son died five years ago and what she said really resonated with me. She also just came back from her son's fiance's wedding, which she thought she could deal with but had to leave the reception when some asked her how she knew the bride and she thought she was going to die.
Note to self: when entering new situations, think of what people may ask and what your response will be... or just stay home.
It's 2:30 in the afternoon, and I've been up since 7. This is a pretty typical day, and I think I have thought about Lev at least eight times, and two of those times I had to/chose to "stuff/extinguish" my emotions. No crying, just missing or reminiscing.
1. I got up and had the feeling something was wrong. Then I remembered that Lev was gone forever.
2. I saw a menorah and remembered Lev won't be coming for the holidays.
3. I walked to a cafe with Liana on my back and on the walk I thought about getting life insurance for Liana (or Jaal). It seems so awful to get it, yet if they died I'd really like to not have to work for a really long time, or maybe I'd want to work, who knows, but it would give us options. People get life insurance for their spouse, since they need their spouses income to support their lifestyle, but the emotion toll of losing a child is pretty debilitating.
4. I met a with a local mom at a cafe to tell her about a class I'm taking at the community college with Liana and give her some marital advice. She didn't know I had older children and didn't know about Lev. It's always a bit awkward when it comes up the first time. It's like saying, "Hey, I'm not the person you thought I was. I had a whole lifetime before I met you. My life is worse than yours, but let's spend time talking about your stupid little problems since mine are too tough to discuss."
5. At the cafe I also ran into a neighbor friend and we talked about the trouble his sixteen year old is giving him. I said that my boys were pretty easy as teenagers, realizing after I said it that Lev never made it to sixteen, so I don't really know.
6. I checked Facebook and saw a post from a friend of Lev's, which is often hard. I wonder what he would do.
7. I thought about the next step in our lives, and what we are planning on doing next year, realizing how difficult it is to rebuild your life around this kind of loss. Thinking about going back to work next summer, or delaying more.
8. I had a little time to myself during Liana's nap, and after taking a bike ride while Tony watched her at home I thought about whether I'm going to dedicate time to writing more about grief or not.
Although I think there is a need to share more writing about our situation, I don't think I have it in me to actually do something as lengthy as a book or public blog. I don't have much time without Liana except at night, when it's too depressing to write much about grief.
I don't think I want to get babysitting so I can write, and doing it here and there for an hour isn't that productive. Maybe years from now I'll be more inspired.
Often I feel relieved after writing down my thoughts, but this post just left me more tangled up inside, with a lump at the back of my throat.
How often do I think of Lev?
I was talking about this in grief group, trying to reassure a recently bereaved parent that, although the emotions can be as raw as the first year at times, there is usually more time between emotions.
It doesn't take my breath away as often but I think of Lev a lot. I remember reading someone saying that it becomes like a brick you carry in your pocket. This seems true for me. I am used to carrying it around, but it weighs me down, and often I just reach down and sort of rub on it, knowing that it is an important part of me. Sometimes I don't even notice it for a while, and then my mind floats back.
I was talking to someone this week who said she feels like she has this little sun in her body and she knows she can never quite touch it or she will just melt, but otherwise she does okay. Her son died five years ago and what she said really resonated with me. She also just came back from her son's fiance's wedding, which she thought she could deal with but had to leave the reception when some asked her how she knew the bride and she thought she was going to die.
Note to self: when entering new situations, think of what people may ask and what your response will be... or just stay home.
It's 2:30 in the afternoon, and I've been up since 7. This is a pretty typical day, and I think I have thought about Lev at least eight times, and two of those times I had to/chose to "stuff/extinguish" my emotions. No crying, just missing or reminiscing.
1. I got up and had the feeling something was wrong. Then I remembered that Lev was gone forever.
2. I saw a menorah and remembered Lev won't be coming for the holidays.
3. I walked to a cafe with Liana on my back and on the walk I thought about getting life insurance for Liana (or Jaal). It seems so awful to get it, yet if they died I'd really like to not have to work for a really long time, or maybe I'd want to work, who knows, but it would give us options. People get life insurance for their spouse, since they need their spouses income to support their lifestyle, but the emotion toll of losing a child is pretty debilitating.
4. I met a with a local mom at a cafe to tell her about a class I'm taking at the community college with Liana and give her some marital advice. She didn't know I had older children and didn't know about Lev. It's always a bit awkward when it comes up the first time. It's like saying, "Hey, I'm not the person you thought I was. I had a whole lifetime before I met you. My life is worse than yours, but let's spend time talking about your stupid little problems since mine are too tough to discuss."
5. At the cafe I also ran into a neighbor friend and we talked about the trouble his sixteen year old is giving him. I said that my boys were pretty easy as teenagers, realizing after I said it that Lev never made it to sixteen, so I don't really know.
6. I checked Facebook and saw a post from a friend of Lev's, which is often hard. I wonder what he would do.
7. I thought about the next step in our lives, and what we are planning on doing next year, realizing how difficult it is to rebuild your life around this kind of loss. Thinking about going back to work next summer, or delaying more.
8. I had a little time to myself during Liana's nap, and after taking a bike ride while Tony watched her at home I thought about whether I'm going to dedicate time to writing more about grief or not.
Although I think there is a need to share more writing about our situation, I don't think I have it in me to actually do something as lengthy as a book or public blog. I don't have much time without Liana except at night, when it's too depressing to write much about grief.
I don't think I want to get babysitting so I can write, and doing it here and there for an hour isn't that productive. Maybe years from now I'll be more inspired.
Often I feel relieved after writing down my thoughts, but this post just left me more tangled up inside, with a lump at the back of my throat.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)