Saturday, January 9, 2010

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Tonight's picture was taken when Mattie was 6 months old. Mattie's favorite things to eat by this point were sweet potatoes (which you can see traces of all over his mouth!), butternut squash, pear sauce, and naturally oatmeal. Mattie loved oatmeal from the moment he tried it! In fact, he loved oatmeal so much that he ate it every morning of his life, until the year he developed cancer.

Poem of the day: Hope by Charlie Brown

The sun is out
The day is bright
But in my world
There is no light
My son, my boy
Has gone away
No more sounds
Of him at play
No butterfly kisses
No goodnight hugs
No practical jokes
And no more bugs
My heart is broken
But I have to pray
That there is a heaven
And I will see him someday
Until then I wait
With love in my heart
And hope we meet
And never again part

There are some days in which I wake up, have a plan for the day, and try to stay focused upon these objectives. In the process, I am not denying my feelings for Mattie or my problems, but instead I am putting them on my mental shelf, so that I can take a temporary break to build up energy to continue to fighting the battle of grief. Cancer was not the only battle Peter and I fought, grief is also a battle. An ominous one at that. You can't see it, there is no medicine or testing you can throw at it, but it is REAL and very much takes over your body, mind, and spirit. Just like cancer! We weren't very successful at fighting cancer, it is my hope that we can do better with grief. Some days are more taxing than others, and different things can set us off, so it is very unpredictable.

Today I went to get my hair cut. The person who cuts my hair has been working with me for years. She knew me before I was pregnant, and then followed me through Mattie's development. She naturally knows about Mattie's death, and tries to make my experience relaxing whenever I enter her salon. I don't do that often anymore, but it was nice to step out of my daily problems and try to relax. She treated me to a manicure as well, which was very thoughtful. So by the time I left, I at least felt better about my hair and nails. Sounds shallow, but these days, I look for the small victories to feel better about. Peter and I went out to lunch, and had a nice time chatting. We had almost a year of NO talking, while meeting Mattie's demands and needs, that reconnecting is imperative. While at lunch, sitting behind Peter, was a new mom with her baby. The baby was a boy and she was holding him literally up to her cheeks while she was eating. I couldn't help but watch her, because I remember what that feeling was like with Mattie rubbing against my cheeks. Mattie always did this with me, even in the hospital. Actually Mattie and I would also put our foreheads together, and just stare into each other's eyes for minutes on end. A lot can be learned by looking deeply into someone's eyes, and as we were staring we usually landed up smiling at each other. I can almost picture what his eyes and smile looked like as I am telling you about it tonight.

Mattie had a haunting smile and personality and those who interacted with him during his cancer treatment some how were touched and impacted by him. Our friend, Mary, whose husband was in the hospital for almost two weeks, told me the other day that her husband's in-home nurse was also Mattie's nurse. Mattie had three in-home nurses who checked on us periodically. This particular in home nurse was very upset to hear that Mattie died. Somehow Mary telling me this made a big impression on me. I have been reflecting on it for days. First it illustrates to me how small our world is, because what are the chances that Mike (Mary's husband) would be assigned the same nurse as Mattie? But what really touched me was the fact that this nurse was captivated by Mattie's charm and zest for life. Despite all the torture he went through, he always had a spunk and spirit about him. It was down right remarkable, because with a simple cold, I feel miserable and wiped out. Mattie went through surgeries and very toxic chemotherapies, and yet always bounced back. ALWAYS! It is hard to rationalize how he was able to survive all of that, and yet in the end die. I truly love hearing about who has been touched by Mattie's life, and the more stories I read, the more I realize Mattie was a remarkable little boy.

I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Sometimes the blog is very hard to read but certainly it is harder to go through the grief than to read about it. I agree with you that if the blog makes you question, to think about things and to be more mindful of your life and what is important, that's good even if getting there is a painful process. I've met a number of "survivors" at Haven and they give me hope that when the time comes to face some serious loss that I can successfully make the journey through it to the other side. It is easy for me to say as I am not now facing what you are but I can say if there is a person who can come to a place of hope, I would say you would be one who comes immediately to my mind. Your ability to see yourself, your thoughtfulness about life, your caring for others all tell me that you will eventually find your way through the journey. I am now convinced that it is a long one, with many ups and downs and steps backwards but since you are willing to get out, to do things, to connect with others gives me hope on your behalf. As always I am thinking of you. I hold you gently in my thoughts."