Fumbling Towards Something

Lately I've been fumbling through. I thank the universe (and Reece) for bringing Gabby to us. She was a bright light in our dark existence to be sure. But now that she has surpassed Reece in age, which I was reminded a few days ago, I have lost again.

Until recently we could reminisce as if Reece were still in the room. Laugh about her milestones, compare her linguistic prowess to Gabrielle's pirate-like baby-lingo, and see glimmers of Reece's impish ways through Gabby's dare-devilish physicality. It's what parents do. Compare one child to another, and relish the differences, adore their uniqueness. Excite in what will come, and is yet to compare.

There's nothing now.

Reece is gone. Her time cut short at only 20 months.

I remember her as being so much more, than just 20 months. She had a 'way of knowing' that was beyond her.

But I'll never know who she would have become.

And again I count my losses. They seem to add up lately. One after another.

Maybe it's the time of year, that makes it difficult, but lately she is constantly on my mind.

Gabrielle turns 2 in a month. Normally I'd be planning, excited, looking forward to the occasion and bringing people together.

But now, it's all I can do not to cry all day at work. The mere glimpse of a thought of Gabby's birthday makes me sad. A picture of her and Aiden on my computer screen, serves as just another painful reminder that there is a 3rd child missing from the trio that should have been.

Christmas this year will be much like the year we lost her. She and Gabby so close in age, it will be hard not to be consumed with thoughts of her, and it will take everything in me to not let my grief overshadow the seasons festivities for the girls.

I already feel a pressure to 'keep up appearances' for everyone else starting and we are still months away from Christmas. Gabby was a great distraction while it lasted, but I suppose I knew all along that eventually I'd have to face facts- everyone moves on,

no matter how hard you dig in your heels.

It's what I've always done. Find distractions to focus on, rather than dealing with what is in front of me.

I am trying desperately not to give in to my strong desire to completely break with tradition this year and do something different. I suppose to avoid the impending 'performance' I'll have to put on, for family and friends, neighbours and colleagues. That "yay, great ! It's the holidays. Grrrreat an entire week off " to sit at home and remember Reece isn't here to share it with us.

Maybe I'll find some wisdom in some readings this week. Until then, I'll guess just keep fumbling.

The reinvention of Mom.
Or grasping at straws……… mid life crisis or mid-mania survival….
It could be many things, this latest phase I have fallen into. But none the less, here I am.
As far as we’ve come in our grieving process, I am still very much, stuck.
I’ve been filled with pure joy, adding Gabs (Gabrielle that is) to our family. And with high hopes and positive thoughts I started a brand new job at the end of my maternity leave; with a huge organization, with many future possibilities. Perhaps I could upgrade my education over the years, or bump around the organization trying new things, really there were a lot of options.
However, after a number of months I’ve realized I am doing nothing more than treading water.
Putting in time, for a huge organization that is just that… a HUGE organization. I was a number. A number at the bottom.
I’ve recently come to the realization that my socialization has really screwed me over. A daughter of the modern ages, I’ve been taught I can do anything boys can do, AND all that my mother did.
Having never really know who I was or what I wanted I only clung to one truth.
I wanted a family. A family that included a cozy home, with children, relatives and friends we called relatives that came and went freely.
A bit idealistic to be sure but not entirely out of reach. Not beyond reality. I wasn’t dreaming of being an astronaut or brain-surgeon (I hate math).
Unfortunately reality being what it is, girls have to bend and break their daydreams to fit reality.
Where am I going with this you wonder?
I’ve decided that although I may never find a true career, that makes me jump out of bed in the morning and desire to work long days; at least I can make the rest of my life extra meaningful and fulfilling to make up the difference.
Which brings me to SRDL.
What is God’s name is SRDL? What is MummyAnge up to now?
WELL! I believe I have found my tribe. At the very least I’ve had an epiphany!
SRDL stands for Saskatoon Roller Derby League. Yes, roller, as in roller-skates; and, no, I have never done this before. Although I had looked into it a few years ago I was unsuccessful in finding any information about the local league. As happenstance would have it, at a Ladies Night at the local Dundurn bar, a woman announced that this league did in fact exist and we were welcome to come on out and try.
First, if you know me, and this is the first you are hearing of this, you are likely shocked. I am not athletic by any stretch of the imagination. In addition, to go try something new, potentially (STRONG potential) to embarrass and injure myself, goes against everything my anxiety-prone personality would typically allow. But I’m doing it.
I decided I needed something for me; something that my daughters can respect and perhaps aspire to. Something to stop my mind from thinking about all the issues we are having at home, with grief, with challenges with our children, with work, with council and community commitments and on and on.
I feel myself mesmerized by the skill, grace and confidence of the senior members of the SRDL. It's inspiring, and intimidating. I imagine in those moments of awe, I'm feeling what Reece felt when she'd watch kids on Barney sing & dance or hear a piano playing- completely absorbed in the moment and wondering "how can I do that?".
My hope is that by entering into a new and positive ‘obsession’ I can honor Reece by being a better mom, partner and person.

What you can't know

Things are not always this bad...however, truth be told- it's always somewhere just under the surface. Grieving the loss of a child, is a pain that lays in wait. Waiting for your weakest, quietest moments. And in those times, when I've been run down, tired, fed up with the day-to-day - it takes hold.
This is what I think about in those moments:


You can't know the pain that makes me sick to my stomach, late at night when the house is quiet and I am struck, with the very real fear that I may forget her smell.

You can't know what I grieve for late at night, when my girls sleep and I am terrified someone's God will steal them too.

You can't know the terror I feel late at night, when I realize that the world around me has moved on, and never remembers her, and who she'd be right now, what she'd be doing, how she'd be playing, how she would be loving all of us.

You can't know what it is to loose the star of the show, the light of my life, my reason for being.

You can't know this pain. Mother Nature will not allow it. It runs too deep. Your world would stop. You wouldn't forget.

You can't know how alone this is, and how much on these nights, I would give everything to be with her for just one moment.


Just one.

And as much as I beg and plead for that one moment, I can't have it.

I feel her slipping further away and there is nothing I can do. Nothing you can say.

Because you can't know.