Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Tuesday, January 5, 2010 -- Mattie died 17 weeks ago today (or 4 months ago)!

Tonight's picture was taken the first week Mattie came home from the hospital after he was born on April 4, 2002. Mattie looks so peaceful here, and his first few days at home he slept a lot, but as soon as he acclimated to being home, he seemed energized and was up ALL the time. I purposefully picked this picture to be posted tonight since today marks the four month anniversary of Mattie's death. I want our readers to always remember the beautiful baby he was. He was born healthy and now I can't help but wonder was Osteosarcoma lying dormant in his body all along?

Poem of the day: For Mattie by Charlie Brown

Every day your heart breaks anew
When you wake and he's not here with you
A boy made of precious stuff
With inside soft and outside tough
He loved bugs and mud and mess
In that, he was much like the rest
But his heart was all his own
Who knew he would be just a loan?
We miss you now Mattie Moon
You left us here much too soon.
You are at peace so show us the way
To keep a piece of you with us each day
Send your parents lots of love
From your perch in the heavens above
And help them cope with the loss of you
As each day their hearts break anew.


As today marks the four month anniversary of Mattie's death, I feel the need to let you know that our grief is still very real, life altering, and I continue to take each day, one day at a time. As time passes, I try to recollect and hold onto my role as Mattie's mom. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I can't part with any of his clothes, toys, and paperwork. Everything is just where we left it while he was hospitalized. In fact, I haven't even unpacked our hospital bag. I certainly know I am not returning to the PICU, but I can't face unpacking, I can't face what unpacking really means. So for now, everything is in a state of rest. I am so conflicted about this. I need order and structure in my life, but nothing in my home is organized anymore. Why has this happened? Well imagine you being away from your home for 15 months, however, periodically you come back and dump gifts, mail, and other documents in it. Well eventually this piles up until it is unmanageable. So though the threat of cancer is removed from our lives, my cancer world of chaos still surrounds me. Everywhere!

Today was Alison's birthday, and Ann and I took Alison out to lunch to celebrate the special occasion. Alison's son was in Mattie's kindergarten class, however, we did not really get to know each other until she became an instrumental part of Team Mattie. In fact, I always sit back in awe of Ann and Alison. These were two women who did not know me well, yet not only did they rise to the occasion, but did it in an exceptional and loving way. Alison went through all the ups and downs of Mattie's treatment with us, and was always an empathetic ear. Alison is a deeply feeling individual, which is probably why we see eye to eye on many things. In fact, I learned today that we enjoy reading the same types of books. I am not sure why that was surprising to me, but some how that brought me happiness to know we share another commonality. We had a lovely lunch talking about various things. Today was the first day back at school for Ann and Alison's children, after the winter holidays. Naturally I am torn over how I feel about this. My first reaction is of course that I feel that Ann and Alison are so lucky to have children. I am not jealous, I am simply stating that I appreciate their roles more than ever, now that I don't have mine. I wish I could talk about Mattie's first day back at school as well. Yet, on the other hand, Ann and Alison are my friends, and I want to share in their lives. Which means talking about their children and school. The daily stressors of motherhood are real and not to be minimized. So as I try to face and accept this inner conflict I have, it is my hope that those close to me can appreciate how I feel, and that I am doing my best to try to resolve these feelings. But it will take time, simply because my pain and hurt are still quite raw.

After lunch, I spent some time with the two little girls I told you about whose dad is in the hospital. While visiting the girls, I had the wonderful opportunity to see Lana, one of Mattie's preschool teachers from RCC. She was helping out today as well. Lana is a faithful blog reader, and Peter and I so appreciate Lana's continued support. Lana told me a very touching story today about when her father died several years ago in December. The first Christmas she spent without her dad was naturally painful. When her son asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she simply stated.... she wished for hope and happiness for example. Instead of her son filing that thought somewhere, he gave her a special gift for Christmas. He gave her teddy bears with the words, hope and happiness sown into them. The way Lana told the story was simply beautiful because it captured two things. The love her son has for her and also the profound impact her dad's death has on her. She did not want a gift you could buy, she wanted something intangible. Just like I feel now. I related to Lana's story as if it were my own. As Lana was talking today, all I could remember is the wonderful times Mattie had with her and Margaret. I miss those days but remember them so vividly!

While visiting with this family, I also had the pleasure of seeing Carolyn. Carolyn is a RCC mom, her daughter was in Mattie's first preschool class, and Carolyn was a major Team Mattie supporter. It was nice to catch up with her. In fact, seeing Lana and Carolyn made me only remember the beauty of RCC (Mattie's preschool) and the happiness those two years produced for us.

I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from Mattie's oncologist and our friend, Dr. Kristen Snyder. As my readers know, Kristen writes to us EVERY Tuesday, to mark Mattie's death. Kristen wrote, "On these dreary wintery days...on this Tuesday and every day...I hope the spirit of your sunshine Mattie warms your heart. It is obvious the countless numbers of people Mattie has touched. You both are so integral in him being able to reach out and make a difference even now, across the heavens. What an amazing ability your little boy has. Thinking of you, this Tuesday and always."
The second message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "Grief does compromise your ability to concentrate; many people report either intrusive thoughts or just an inability to focus. For the most part, it seems as though the skills you had come back as time passes. I am sure that hearing again that time will help is not what you want to hear but things cannot be rushed and in fact, rushing often ends up making things harder. It is so clear to all of us who know you that you are a wonderful mom, patient, caring, loving and most importantly, willing to give of yourself. I think part of your question going forward will be, what to do with those skills and traits? I don't know the answer and probably right now, neither do you, but at some point I think you will be ready to explore this. I hope so because there are not enough people in the world with those skills and we need all we can get. Be kind to yourself, I hold you gently in my heart today as I dedicate the positive energy of my practice to you."