Naming Our Losses

The other day I read an article by Dr. Curt Thompson titled, "Inflammation of the Heart". It's a great read about how we are all drowning in grief currently, of both big and small things. In the article he discusses how people have a tendency to down play their own grief, or loses, because in comparison to other people's losses we really can't complain. He addressed this very common response saying, "This is evil's playground, inviting us to pretend we don't really feel what we feel when we compare our circumstances to those of others, and in so doing, judge our own hearts' longing as unimportant." This really struck home with me. The past six months I have spent a lot of time with the feelings of loss and grief, but usually I quickly tried to reassure myself and force myself to get over it by saying that, "at least we're all healthy, at least we all have jobs," and so on. Gratitude for those things and grief for all the things, both big and small, currently and in the future, that we are losing can both be true at the same time.

 Thompson went on to discuss that while gratitude is always important it is just as important to name your loses no matter how small in order to make space for joy. His suggestion was that everyone name their losses, everyday, as well as things they are grateful for. Write them down, but also tell someone. Having our losses heard by someone else allows our minds to realize we are not a lone in our grief. He ended the article by discussing how our brain can do a lot of hard things, for a long time, as long as it's not having to do them alone, and as long as it has a known time frame for when the hard things will end. This becomes very problematic during a pandemic where we are forced to be away from our people and there is no defined end to this particular hard thing. So how do we get through it? We name our grief, repeatedly, to people who love us and be a sympathetic ear for people who also need their grief heard.  

With all of this in mind I'm taking a minute to name the loses I've felt over the past six month. There is a part of me that feels really guilty to even speak these things, because again, all of my losses seem trivial to the thousands of people who have lost loved ones or jobs. I heard someone call this competing in our grief the "Hardship Olympics." There are no winners in the hardship Olympics. Everyone is doing hard things. Everyone is experiencing loss of some kind currently and everyone is looking into a future that seems completely different with all sorts of losses ahead. Everyone needs to grieve these losses. So in no particular order here are some things I've been grieving. 

1. Certainty - When I let myself sit with this for a minute and think back on what the biggest loss or hardest thing has been, this is where I landed. Absolutely nothing is certain now, not even long term, but from day to day. You could argue it's always been this way and we'd just lived with false security, but the uncertainty now is brutal. Everything from my job, what the kid school looks like, our health, and every tiny thing in between is unknown. I cannot make a decision about anything more than maybe twenty four hours in advance because there is just so much that can change. My kids think I'm keeping things from them or lying to them when I say I don't know. However, "I don't know" is a painfully real answer to most of their questions about what the future will look like. I hate this. I like a plan and I like to prepare my children for what is coming. All of that is gone and I'm slowly adjusting to it. 

2. Connection with Friends - After working so hard to prioritize my friendships with other women last year all of that has been torn apart over these past six months. There are no more lunches/dinner dates at restaurants. No more days when I send Thatcher to daycare so I can have a day to go see people. The people still exist, but they are also living in this crazy time of uncertainty, with a million things to do, who also never think to call their friends. 

3. Childcare - It was the safest choice to take Thatcher out of daycare, but it felt like a loss none the less. I miss having that as an option when I needed/wanted to do something on a day off from work. He loved playing with his friends and I liked him being in a classroom/group setting at least a little bit before kindergarten. 

4. Fun family things - With the loss of childcare came the loss of my ability to work during the week for the most part. This means that I am missing all the fun things that happen on the weekend. Days together with all of us as a family, baseball games, and family dinners. It feels like I'm home for all the hard stuff, mainly virtual school days, and at work during the days when I wouldn't have to be forcing my kids to do things they don't want to do. There is a lot of camping coming up in October so I will get a few weekends home with Thatcher, but not with everyone. 

5.The gym/swimming - Thatcher and I's routine during school use to be get the boys on the bus and go to the gym. Thatcher played with kids in child watch while I got an uninterrupted hour of exercise. Sometimes I ran or lifted weights, but my favorite activity was swimming. It required bringing a lot of stuff to the gym, but there is no better workout in my mind. I can't bring myself to go to the gym right now or cancel my membership. If I cancel it is feels like I'll never be back in the pool, but also gyms are grouse places. I hate this loss of routine and loss of one of my favorite activities. 

6. Fun kid outings - I love to plan a funtivity, going to the zoo, the science museum, or really anywhere will do. Any type of outing that we could do we did last summer. The loss of those experiences, and that's really what it is the loss of experiences with my kids, is a huge loss that I think is starting to sink in as time goes by. I find myself trying to think of something fun we could do, outside of our house, that we haven't done recently, and there is literally nothing. We've hiked all sorts of trails, but all other indoor outings include to many people, especially in this state where people seem to be acting like it isn't happening. 

7. Being just the parent of my grade school children - This one probably hits the hardest and the most difficult to grieve, accept, and learn to find some sort of happiness in our new normal. In the before times my kids would come home with papers in a folder, briefly tell me about their day and what they'd learned. I would ask them my go to questions. What did you do that was kind? What did you do that was hard? What was something good that happened today? Sometimes getting answers to those questions was all I did with their schooling for weeks at a time. Yes, we read with them and helped with projects, but for the most part they went to and from school on a bus and magically learned all the things they needed to learn. I went to two parent teacher conferences all year, maybe practiced sight words or multiplication tables, but mainly I just got to support them, love them, and make sure they were well behaved humans. Now it's a whole different world. We somehow have to be both loving supportive parent and in charge of their education the majority of the time. It's heartbreaking and I am still actively grieving this loss as well as all they are losing not getting to be at school with their amazing teachers and friends. 

8. I don't know how to describe this one, but something that is proving to be very difficult months into this pandemic, in Oklahoma, is feeling like we're the only family that is still trying to actively help prevent the spread of this virus. That everyone else around us is going about life like nothing has changed. Sure for the most part everyone is wearing masks in public indoor places now, but that is literally the bare minimum most people are doing. People are having huge parties, going on vacation, attending concerts, doing all the things as if nothing is happening. Meanwhile, we are keeping our kids out of school because one of them has a snotty nose. We're missing the gatherings, we're wearing masks at baseball games, and sitting far away from everyone. I want to say this loss feels like the loss of my sanity. That's it SANITY! It makes me feel like I'm going crazy because that's how people are looking at our family most of the time. To them I say, "a lot of you act like you've never seen your child intubated. I have, multiple times, and will do/miss out on pretty much anything to not have to live through that again. It devastatingly frustrating. 

9. Seeing family - We've missed so many celebrations and times we would usually spend together over the last six months. We didn't get to take our summer trip to Missouri to see Zach's family which we were all sad about. Zach's Grandma passed away during all of this and they weren't able to have a funeral, no way to say good bye or comfort the family members who were grieving. Every visit with my siblings and my mothers always feels a little risky and you pray you're not the one to unknowingly get someone sick. 

10. Church - Church is something that seems like an unattainable goal at this point, again especially in this particular state. Huge group of people indoors, literally drinking out of the same cup and shaking everyone's hand, it just seems like that might never be safe again. Rowan is doing virtual first communion class, or at least we're going to start it and see how it goes, but honestly how do you have first communion when you can't take communion and you can't have people gather to watch them do it. I was excited for him and Everett to go through that together and now it all seems weird and sad. It's a loss of another experience for my child.

Those are some of the big things I'm grieving. Of course there are smaller things everyday. Experiences, time, safety, money, and on and on that weigh on all of us and start to add up as this drags on. Acknowledge what you've lost, take a minute to grieve it. Know that you are not alone and that

I am always happy to be a sympathetic ear for anyone who needs their losses to be heard. 

Just Keep Living

What do you when it feels like the world is crumbling down around you? How do you spend your days when it feels like you have no idea how anything could get better? Turns out you just live each day and try to find an ounce of joy wherever you can. Everyday seems worse than the last and harder than the day before. There are days I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel, but we just keep going. We wake up and we take it minute by minute. Most days, if I'm being honest, I have to block out the outside world, the current reality as a nation/world, and just focus on the tiny slice of it that is my little family. I have to consciously zoom in and focus on the things I can control. Currently that means raising three humans. 

This is no easy task and their are nights, like last night after hearing of the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, where I sob in the shower, or sneak outside to cry. Last night Thatcher came outside and found me crying. He said, "Momma is your heart okay?" I mean children say the exact truth don't they? No, son my heart is not okay. Nothing is okay. Everything is hard, terrifying, uncertain, and I have no idea what to do next or what happens next. T went inside and said "Momma is not okay, her heart is sad." And that sums it all up.  I am not okay, my heart is shattered, my mind and body are exhausted. I'm stressed on levels I could never imagine and have been for months. But through all of this life is happening.

Having lived through traumatic times before I feel confident that if we make it through this I will have no memories of this time. It was be a blur of darkness and grief. I will wonder how we survived, what did we do? Our children and grandchild will ask about those days. So I do take a ton of pictures and I'm going to try to capture some memories here in hopes that it isn't all forgotten, no matter how much I feel like I want to forget it right now.

First up, Labor Day weekend at the lake. We hadn't been to the lake since the fourth of July since Thatcher's finger had been healing so he couldn't swim. We were there by ourselves so the weekend had a very slow relaxing pace which was very much needed. We did lots of fishing, swimming, reading, and relaxing.

Zach's parents got him a chainsaw for his birthday to replace the one that had been stolen from our garage. He put it to good use cutting down a dead tree behind the house. The boys helped hall wood and of course practiced their karate kid crane kicks,

Thatcher got to take his life jacket off and try to work on swimming with me a little bit this trip. I can't say that it went well, but he had a great attitude "I didn't drowned!" Not sure what happens next summer when he can't wear this life jacket anymore. 

Sunday morning we took a trip up to the Gloss Mountains for a morning hike in the almost fall weather.

Here is T leading the charge up the staircase.

That was a fun little outing with the family before heading back to swim.

T enjoyed dancing in the Tinkerbell costume in the cabin while we were cooling off.

We did get to do some left over fireworks as well.

We came back in time for Zach's birthday celebrations at Able's house. I didn't manage to get any pictures of the birthday boy  just these two.

We also came back to a broken AC which lead to me having a heat stroke over night and missing work. T and I spent the day at mom's little house while Zach waited on the AC repair guy. I hate the car line, but Ro and T look getting their picture taken while we wait. Rowan usually wears this gator face covering thing, which seems incredibly hot, but this is his go to look for his two days of school these days.

Different day different DC gator. The school provided them with two, so he has one for each day.

Thatcher is frequently in full costume for the car line.

T and I went to mom's little house while Zach waited for the AC repairman. I didn't feel great after my night of throwing up and having a heat stroke, so we did a whole lot of nothing. Here is T's letters that he wrote including an OU he wrote with no assistance. 

Most of our day was spent like this, sitting on the couch watching TV. Thatcher is the best lazy day companion.

Rowan is Thatcher's go to piggy back ride mate as of late. It's adorable, but impossible to catch on camera since they are always moving.

Another car line costume, Batman and Ninja turtle mash up.

Sometimes, ever so rarely these days, this little boy will snuggle with me when he wakes up from his nap.

Here is the other reality of our life, virtual school. We are on the AA/BB schedule for the foreseeable future. Just about the time I begin to feel like we've gotten into a routine something changes. For instance last week the amount of things both boys were being assigned greatly increased, which is expected as school goes on, but was met with great fits and complaining. This week half of Rowan's assignments wouldn't load or weren't available due to technical errors which meant I had to find something for him to do because you can't not do anything while your brother is doing school work all day. I have no control of what they have to do or how they have to do it, but I am in charge of making sure it gets done. This leads to an exhausting, never ending struggle with Zane and Rowan. Someone cries about some assignment multiple times a day and I frequently end up crying as well. 

Here is a picture of the table at around three o'clock one day. If you know me you know I don't deal well with chaos or unorganized spaces yet this is a great snapshot of just how chaotic my life is currently. There are tablets, books, dirty dishes, papers, a ukulele, dry erase board list, a computer, headphones, just all the things strewn about everywhere. This is my table, but this is also my counters, my floors, my couch, my bed, just my entire house is a complete disaster at all times. 

School happens all over the house, in every room, outside, and now in the hallway. Zane is working on learning his states and capitals so this old, torn up, map went up in the hallway this week. I, again, only could ever learn sitting at a table in a perfectly quiet environment. My children are all over the place, but if they are getting the work done so be it.

For the past few weeks we have had the added bonus of a lot of baseball on TV. This is a unifying force in our house. Everyone wants to watch it, we can do other things when it's one, and it's something to look forward to at the end of the school day. I think there are only five games or something like that left, since they've been playing double headers everyday. They had a two week quarantine with positive COVID test so now they're making them all up. I love having baseball on in the house. We'll miss the Cardinals since I doubt they're making it to the post season this year.

This is how most evenings end, in a pile of boys. Generally the wrestling goes on until someone cries and it all falls apart.

I have been working weekends, still doing random things besides nursing, but getting paid. Then on Monday and Tuesday I have two calm days with Thatcher before the virtual learning craziness starts. T and I take long walks/bike rides, we work on letters, we read books, we draw, we paint, and he is generally calm with little to no arguing when his brothers are not there.

This week he wrote his whole name for the first time. I told him which letter came next, but he was able to write them all by himself. I have no idea at what point the other boys did this, but I feel extremely proud of this milestone since I had no clue how I was going to teach him anything with our life being such a disaster. So far writing with sidewalk chalk has been the key to our success since he can write as big as he wants. At this age they have hardly any fine motor skills which makes sidewalk chalk the perfect solution. That and he does do ABC Mouse on the tablet with the boys are doing their school, but so far I think he's mainly done numbers on there.

T does like to practice baseball with his brothers. He's got quite the arm on him and started practicing batting this week.

Mom sent him a Koala kit, which is just a little craft kit for preschoolers. He LOVED it. We had to do all the activities immediately and he was able to most of it himself. He's seen the boys get their kits for awhile now so I think he was pretty excited to have his own box. This month's kit was all about rainbows.

Baseball is back in full swing. This week T and I even went to all of the games, which proved to be a bad decision when Zane's game on Thursday night didn't end until almost ten o'clock. But, we've enjoyed getting to watch them play. Rowan remains the star defensive player on his little team and Zane continues to do great hitting and pitching.

This weekend would have traditionally been pie day at the shop, celebrating eight year of being open. Sadly that isn't the case this year with COVID, but we couldn't let September go by without making some pies. Mom came down and we made a cherry pie and a few little peach pies. The boys love this tradition and have become quite the good little pie bakers.

Lastly, my garden continues to a huge success this summer. My okra plants are giant and we've be able to have friend okra multiple times over the past month. Our tomato plants also have consistently given us a few tomatoes here and there, nothing to crazy. I've loving having it and taking care of it over the summer. Thatcher always comes and checks my crop with me in the morning. 

Here I am with my giant okra plants. I'm going to need a ladder to pick them if they get any taller.

Here the little corner of the yard we've put so much work into over the past few months. Zach built the little lean to which houses all our garden supplies and yard toys. We redid the garden under our bedroom windows and the flowers have taken over making it a beautiful little spot instead of an eye sore. I'm thinking we will add at least one more raised bed next spring since we definitely ran out of space for things this year.

So that's life in Oklahoma, in the middle of a pandemic, forty five days out from a crucial presidential election, in the most divided time, possibly in US history. The world feels scary and uncertain. We have every bit of information you could ever want at our fingertips. Sometimes this is incredibly helpful, like when I'm helping my children with school. Sometimes it's infuriating. I've had to work hard at putting my phone down and not falling down 'the world is a dumpster fire' hole that is social media these days. I know that my opinions are not going to change anyone's mind and no one's fear mongering is going to change mine. It's just added stress to my already chaotic life. So I power ahead one day at a time.