No, finally we can see the light at the end of the tunnel as far as Gabrielle's health is concerned and honestly not a moment too soon. I was reaching (had reached honestly) my breaking point.
In addition to the constant reminder of Reece as a result of having a sick little one, I carried the guilt of having to be a working parent and be away from her. And when I did 'put her first' and had to miss work, I felt as though I was being judged for missing work. The guilt and pressure from all sides has been mounting, making me feel as though I was fighting a losing battle at work, home and as a parent. I'm more hopeful now than I was a week ago, and more hopeful than I was 2 months ago when I wrote the following excerpt (but did not publish at the time)...
Our youngest has unfortunately suffered from what are basically "defective" tonsils. For her the last year (the entire 2nd year of her young life) has been a series of Drs visits and rounds of antibiotics.
All too often I find myself looking at Grant and saying "It's like Reecey all over again".
To complicate our already intensive feelings of fear and inadequacy in our parenting abilities, last winter she also fought Croup a number of times; and we have been worrying and waiting for that to hit again this winter, with her immune system run down from her many strep throat infections and colds.
In August we were able to book an appointment with an Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist (ENT) for the first week of Nov. In November we went to our appointment (conveniently with Gabby suffering from yet another case of strep throat). The ENT agreed ;quite readily that the tonsils needed to go, but he warned me that the wait could be 8 - 10 months.
Now here we are in Jan obviously with some time yet to go.
She has had quite a few bouts of strep since Nov, and had an ear infection last week. At that appointment our family Dr let us know we might have a surgery date for March BUT that it wasn't official until we get the letter from the ENT's office.
Her ear infection took a turn for the worse 2 days after starting antibiotics, when we would have expected to see improvement, she spiked a fever and cried from pain.
We went to the Emergency Dept at the hospital, where they treated the symptoms and upped the dosage of the antibiotics she was already on. 2 days later, the fever an pain were still there, so we returned. The Dr at that point ran a series of tests and started stronger antibiotics via an I.V.
That was yesterday. We had to return this morning for another dose.
The trip in, was what spawned this post.
This morning was the worst yet. It's difficult enough to have to go to the same hospital where we last held Reece. To be admitted in the same spot where we were once met by nurses who tried to soften the blow of what reality was about to hand us that morning Dec 27, 2007.
This morning it was just Gabs and I. Normally when we take her to the hospital both of us go. One to drive. One to sit next to her in the back seat, and monitor every little movement, breath, whimper or request.
Today I was on my own.
The radio turned up.
After losing Reece, I am never in a quiet vehicle. I've learned that the short 15-20 minute drive on the same highway that takes us to her grave, I cannot be in silence. I need to blast sounds, to keep the sound of my own thoughts at bay.
Today though, after leaving town and reaching 'cruising speed' I looked in the rear-view mirror to check Gabby's status in the back seat.
She was sleeping. Her soother had fallen out. She was still.
I turned down the radio so I could try listening for breath.
I couldn't hear anything over the normal road noise.
When I looked back at her, her eyes were closed and bluish, her face pale, her lips puffy from warmth and sleep. She looked exactly like Reece at her funeral.
I was torn- do I pull over and wake her? or just drive faster to get to the hospital where the people who are better qualified to take care of her are?
It was terrifying to say the least.
But it reminded me of my confession to Grant. That over the last few months, my grief has been growing, as I've been stuffing it away. It's been building and I've been staving-off the breakdowns. Avoidance- it's what I do.
But it was hard to avoid this, I was locked in a moving vehicle with what seemed like my Gabby and my dead daughter at the same time.
It was like the universe was telling me - LOOK AT HER, it CAN happen again, it WILL happen again!! You have NO control.
What I had confessed to Grant was that over the last 4 months or so, quite often I had been thinking about suicide. Not actually carrying it out. But just an image of myself having a way out. I think that my subconscious was needing an alternative to the only other options I have, which is to accept reality and face grief.
That Reece is gone and that life has gone on without her. That there will always be this empty spot between Aiden and Gabrielle.
And that I have no control over what happens to anyone, even my children. The ones that the universe has entrusted to me, to care for; yet reality is, I can't protect them to the extent I want too.
Gabrielle's constant illnesses have been literally a daily reminder of how fragile children are, and how little control you have over protecting them from the world.
So what have I learned about grief lately? Well... that it's never over. You truly cannot avoid it.
Why am I hopeful now? Well I had a reality check over the last week. After many heart-to-hearts with Grant and with my Sister (who in-spite of her young age sometimes had great insight into 'life') I have a long term plan for our family, for our family and for my career. I am working on keeping things that happen in day-to-day life in perspective. I also realized now that I have unrealistic expectations of others, that some people just are the way they are and not to take it personally if they treat you badly.
After also having a heart-to-heart with our family Dr (who has been a rock for all of us) I realize I'm not alone in my experience, that she knows many other people that have experienced exactly what I am now.
And funny enough, a friend of ours called to talk to Grant one night about 'guy stuff', he's the last guy I would ever think would end up in my 'grief blog' but he said that (and I'll quote) "the grass is always greener on the other side, and there's assholes everywhere".
It was exactly what I needed to hear on that day and he would never have known. (Thanks Pat ;) )
But it's just one of those signs that's making me a believer.
That maybe there is a Creator and there's messages for you if you're listening.
If you know someone that has lost a child suddenly please refer them to SUDC, they have been a great support for both Grant and myself.
