No reserves in place.

Often when I mention that I no longer have much help with Maya, now that my mother is gone, I hear replies such as "I never had any help" or "I don't have any help either".  The thing is these people's parents either never helped much anyway or they live too far away to help.  And the decision to have children was made knowing their parents wouldn't be around to help. 

I didn't make such a decision.

I always knew motherhood would be hard and I didn't want to do it without my mother's help and company.  Of course Greg is a great father and husband and he does help a lot.  But he works full time and he's away the majority of the time I am with Maya.

Yes I know other people have raised children without the support of parents.  But it's not what I chose to do nor what I wanted to do.  It's not something I planned for nor thought would happen. 

When I decided to have a child I made that decision based on the fact that I would have my mother's support. 

And that support was suddenly pulled out from under me, with no reserves in place.

Choose your last words.

I can't stop listening to this song "Born to Die" by Lana Del Rey.

"Feet don't fail me now
Take me to the finish line
All my heart, it breaks every step that I take"

"Don't make me sad, don't make me cry
Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough"

"The road is long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime"

"Choose your last words.
This is the last time.
Cause you and I, we were born to die."

All we know is what we have now.

A year ago I discovered that my mother was terminally ill and I was told that she had two to three months to live.  I remember thinking that two to three months was not enough time.  And I said that in my post here.  Five days later she was dead.  And what I wouldn't give to have two to three months more with her now.  What a blessing any time with her would be.

Everything happened so quickly in the end.  There were so many things to say.  So many things I was unable to say.  So many things left unsaid.  And so many questions left unanswered.

Of course my mother did not have time either.  And while she started to reflect on her life and process everything, her life was over before she could finish.  And it breaks my heart that she left without finding peace.

We never know when lives will end.  All we know is what we have now.  And we know one day it will end for us.

Now's the time to say what needs to be said.  To ask what needs to be asked.  To do what needs to be done.

For tomorrow might be too late. xx

A reflection on 2011

At the start of every new year, I typically reflect on the year just passed.  And as I reflect on 2011, I could easily say it was one of the worst years of my life, having lost my mother so suddenly.

Then it was hard to grieve in the way I needed to with someone so dependent on me.  Someone who did not understand what I was going through.  Someone who wanted my full, undivided attention.   Someone who looked to me for strength and comfort, while inside I felt like I was falling apart.

But Maya was also my light who helped guide me through and I was often able to get lost in her enthusiasm, energy and lust for life.

And then there's the change I was finally able to make.  Leaving a job I was unhappy with.  Suddenly I had the confidence to leave without any backup job or plans for my future.  I just knew I had to leave and better now than never.  So I did.  And it gave me some time out and space and led me to apply for jobs I normally wouldn't.  It led me to attain a new job that I enjoy.  And I am working there again this year with more hours and more opportunities.

Life is too short to spend it doing something you are unhappy doing.  Perhaps you can't make a change right now.  Perhaps you have to work towards a change.  But what better time to start than now. xx

The reality is, life involves pain.

In this Blog I have been open and honest about my feelings - 'good' or 'bad'.  And while it serves us better to focus on the positive things in our lives and to be grateful for what we do have.  Lows are inevitably a part of our lives, and it's not always possible to maintain a positive focus during difficult times.  The lows are as much a part of our lives as the highs.

The reality is, life involves pain.  There's no getting away from it.  As human beings we are all faced with the fact that sooner or later we will grow infirm, get sick, and die.  Sooner or later we all will lose valued relationships through rejection, separation, or death.  Sooner or later we all will come face to face with crisis, disappointment, and failure.  This means that in one form or another, we are all going to experience painful thoughts and feelings.       - The Happiness Trap by Russ Harris

Once I became a mother myself, suddenly there were a few whispers in my ear about how hard motherhood actually is.  When I asked them why they hadn't spoken of the hard times before, they replied that they didn't want to admit it was hard.  It's as though admitting motherhood is hard somehow makes us a failed mother.  If I find it hard as a mother that must mean I am a bad mother.  Yet it is the stories of the hard times as mothers that let me know that I am not alone in my feelings.  Finding motherhood difficult at times, does in no way make me less of a mother or mean that I love my daughter any less or mean that I am not prepared to do anything and everything for her.

I have also shared my journey this year of the loss of my mother.  I dare say most people would find this a difficult period in their life.  And I wanted to be open and honest about the roller-coaster ride of grief.  Losing my father twelve years ago and now my mother this year, have been the hardest things I have ever been through in my life.  My feelings are rife this year.  And there is no right or wrong in my feelings.  They are my feelings. 

Telling someone to 'get over it' or to 'focus on what they do have' is extremely unhelpful and only serves to diminish their feelings, which are neither right nor wrong, just feelings.  It makes it not OK to talk about 'bad' feelings for fear of being judged "stupid and shallow and selfish" by people who obviously cannot possibly understand.

Questions.

Maya asks questions.  All the time.  And I'm sure I've posted before that there are some questions that are easy to answer and some questions I don't know the answer to.

The other day I was looking at a picture book with Maya.  This particular picture was of a hot air balloon and the word was balloon.

Maya pointed at the picture and asked "What is it?"

"A balloon," I answered.

Pointing to the basket below the balloon "What is it?"

"That's a basket," I answered.

Pointing to the picture again, Maya asked "What is it?"

"It's a hot air balloon.  That's the balloon part and hot air is put into the balloon and it floats up and it pulls the basket up and people can ride in the basket."

Maya pauses for a while looking at the picture.  I feel like I'm doing well with my explanations.  I know that it's a picture of a hot air balloon and I know how it works.

Then Maya asks "What's his name?", pointing to a man in the basket.

"Err.. I dunno?"

Swim Lessons.

Maya's swim lessons are all about having fun in the water whilst gaining swim skills.

Maya is wearing a little yellow hat in the video.

Happy Father's Day.

Unconditional Love.

It hit me recently that with both parents now deceased there is no longer anyone left in this world who loves me the way a parent loves their child.

A parent's love is endless, unconditional, boundless and unlike any other kind of love.

And it is gone for me.

Loss

We who have lost have no physical sign, no outward scar that says, "Look, oh look, can you not see?  I have lost so much."  The scars are inside. - Rise by Ingrid Polson

Imagine being in a horrific accident where you lost your leg.  You would be taken to an emergency hospital, where a team of doctors, surgeons and nurses would work to stop the bleeding, and repair what could be repaired.  You would then be taken to a recovery ward, given medication for the pain, have round the clock care from a team of doctors and nurses and when ready, work with physiotherapists to regain mobility, perhaps be fitted with a prosthetic leg and be offered the support of a psychiatrist to help you come to terms with the loss of your limb.

And the extent of your loss would be evident to all.

But when one loses a family member, there is no support.  There are no teams of doctors and nurses with round the clock care.  There are so physiotherapists to help you get moving again.  There are no psychiatrists who come to see you and help you adjust to life without your significant other (of course you can seek the help of psychiatrists or psychologists, but my point is that YOU have to seek the help; it is not forthcoming).

And the extent of your loss is not evident to anybody.

I realise I don't know what it is like to lose a leg.  But if I had the choice of losing my leg or my mother I would choose my leg. 

I also know there are people who have experienced much greater loss than I have (and Ingrid Polson is one of those people).  But in my immediate group of friends and amongst family I do feel that I am truly worse off.  That my losses have been more and greater than any in my immediate circle.  And while I wouldn't wish the loss of a parent at this age on anyone, I can't help feeling that it's not fair that I have now lost both parents while most have lost none.  Surely it was one of their turns to lose someone.

I know life doesn't work that way, but why me again?

How dare it be that our family had to go through this again!  Were we not granted some kind of death and disaster immunity?  And how could I possibly demonstrate how much I loved and missed my family?  My body was not big enough to show the size of the scars, my failures could never be spectacular enough, there was not enough darkness in the world to wrap myself in.  - Rise by Ingrid Polson

There are those around me who have lost both parents, but later in life, at an age when you would expect to lose your parents. And their parents endured long term illnesses so it would not have been a shock to the same extent as the losses of both my parents were. And their parents died when their children were grown and able to support them through their loss.

Maya doesn't understand what has happened to her Nana, nor does she understand that I am grieving or what grief is.  She doesn't even understand that her Nana was MY mother and my mother has gone forever.  Maya isn't a support or comfort for me in the way I most need.  In fact everything I now do for her requires greater effort on my behalf due to the large, painful wound I now carry with me every day.

A wound no one can see.