Grandma

I need you now, more than ever, to tell me what to do. Things seem to be falling apart at the seems. When you died you left this un-fillable void that seems to be turning in to a black hole and taking everything with it.

I took you for granted. I looked to you for all the answers, expecting you to always be here for me, to always be at my beck and call. But you weren't a beck and call, you were a grandmother, a person with your own needs and sometimes I feel like I didn't respect those needs.

With your death I have learned so much, mostly regrets. I regret not visiting more, not asking more, listening more. I regret the things we had planned to do that now sit stacked with dust, or worse yet in garbage bags. I have more regrets about what didn't happen then what did and it scares me.

I miss you. I'm so lost now and all I can think about doing is asking you to fix it. With your death I've realized just how much control I have over my own life and the choices in it. I've learned that if I'm not happy with the outcome of things then I'd better start doing something different, unfortunately, the thing I need to quit doing ... is trying.

I feel like I need your approval, like I need you to tell me that it's going to be okay, to tell me that what I'm doing is right. In the end I realize all I have is myself.

Although no one will ever fill your place, and you will eternally be missed I know that it's time for me to close this chapter in my life and start a new one, I just hope you can forgive me. This isn't what I wanted but I feel I have no other choice.

I'm Back!

After being pregnant, having my daughter and my grandma's death I was Exhausted! I can't say that I'm not tired, but I can say that I'm motivated again. My dining room disaster is now a mess, our kitchen has been clean for a week straight... WOW! The floor looks nice, our bathroom is finally cleaned ... now to tackle our pup (who was recently fixed!!!!) and our room ;)

I want to write, I want to sew, to paint. Not all in one day obviously, not to overwhelm myself. I need more paints, I need the border to my Finally finished quilt. I want to start Tristan's quilt this week. I need to get the pictures off my table and finalized in to boxes to be packed back to Centralia.

I have no idea where my family stands. The phone and in person are two completely different things. Lately I feel I have no family except my brothers and sisters and right now I'm grateful for that. Uncle Josh has been visiting more, Aunty Chantal actually stayed a weekend and I finally met Aunty Kaili. :) It excites me, having brothers and sisters, more than I can say.

Aunty Summer (Tristan's sister) is in the hospital. She's only 21 weeks. Her placenta is attached to the cervix and it's slowly peeling away. She's having a little girl, although right now things aren't looking good. The best thing to do is to be hopeful, pray. She's a lot stronger than I am, that's all I can say.

Logan is learning to finally potty on his own, as far as pulling up his own pants and underwear go. He's still in love with his sister who is completely in love with him as well as her daddy. Her smile stretches for miles when they're around and she can't take her eyes off of them. It's quite cute. Logan is also vocalizing more, he's singing on his own as well as lyrics to songs and surprising me daily with the things he knows and shows.

Olivia is so wide eyed and alert ... and beautiful it astounds me. She was going to bed at midnight every night and waking up around 11-noon, sleeping through the night. The last couple days has been closer to 10pm. Yay! She's still sleeping through the night and I might actually get sleep if I could sleep.

My goal is to limit the tv time which I know will make a huge difference, have Logan in bed my 8pm and myself in bed by 10pm, which of course is up to Olivia. But I figure summer is coming and I want to start waking up earlier, getting more done, or having more time to do nothing at all except play with the kids.

Death, the Final Note

Death. I get it. Population control. We can't live forever but does it have to be so sudden? So final?

I don't know where my irrational fear of death came. Maybe it was the way it was explained to me as a child. Maybe it's my understanding in the fact that it's final. Death equals no more. No more waking up, no more sunshine, no more traveling or adventures, no more breakfast with the kids, no more laughs or smiles, no more hugs or kisses, no more "bonding"... no more Anything. You just wake up one day and there's a void.

I'm sick to my stomach thinking of my kids living without me one day. I'm sick to my stomach thinking of life without them. I feel like I was selfish to bring them in to this world because of it's inevitable ending, not to mention all the terrible things that could happen along the way.

I say that I learned a lot of things from my grandma, and that I'm learning a lot of things from her death. She was like a mother to me for so long. She loved me unconditionally, the no matter what kind. She supported me even if she didn't agree. She sat back and watched my life unfold instead of telling me how disappointed she was. Yes, she shook her head at me and spoke her mind, but she never held anything against me or thought less of me for who I was.

I grew up loving my grandparents more than anything in the world. As I got older I learned that what I always thought about them was a lie. I question whether or not my grandma was truly happy, if she lived the life she wanted. I now know, or always knew that she didn't. I learned from her that I don't want to die unhappy, living my life with regrets. I don't want to be doing something I don't want to, something that makes me unhappy that's going to sap the life out of me. Was she with her one true love? Did she get all she wanted out of life? I doubt it. I know most of us don't. Her life was out of her control I feel. I know she held her tongue on most things. I guess I learned to be so vocal in watching her be so silent.

My heart is breaking, my world is shattering. I feel like my grandma was a filter on life. My grandpa admittedly said, "Your grandma's dead. I don't have to be nice anymore." And it doesn't sound like he has been. He's been nice to me, reassured me a few times he loves me, just threatened to kill some members in my family is all. Fail! My step mom is now openly telling me to f off because I'm "not a Deel" and shit hit the fan. Wonderful. This is All I need on Top of my grandma dying. I feel like she'd be turning over in her grave, but I also feel like she knew. I know she was out of control of a lot of things, and my grandpa didn't always respect her wishes so what should change now?

I love him. I feel like I'm mad at him. Maybe just denial of her death? He said it's so nice not to have piles in his room. I get that, but for fuck sake she died less than three weeks ago and like it or not, those were Her piles, those were Her things. Maybe not the best part of her... but to just wipe her out completely? To hear my dad say the day she died how much shit was worth? Really. ALL IT IS IS STUFF! Replaceable stuff that means nothing. She's dead. Nothing I get or take is going to bring her back or fill the void. Nothing.

I just feel like I should have properly said good bye knowing it was coming. I should have said thank you, told her I loved her, told I couldn't live without her... maybe I did. I don't know. I just know I feel like I lost. I know she loved me but I almost feel mad at her for not saying something, Knowing it was coming. It's stupid, I know, immature.

I'm so pissed! I can't call her when I have a question. I don't know who to turn to, who to talk to, who to ask, who to share with. I feel so alone. I feel lost. I'm depressed with out her. The longer it's been the more questions I have. The more I want to share with her. I'm pissed she didn't take care of herself, that she didn't quit smoking to be here. I'm mad that she's not here now. That I can't call her, to tell her what Logan did or that Olivia's smiling. I can't send her anymore pictures. I can't... anything. And now all our unfinished projects, all our dreams are in garbage bags to be tagged to the first person to get their hands on it.. except what they sneak out or take. Makes me sick to my stomach, thinking of my step mom with her hands on my grandma's stuff. My grandma hated her. She didn't care about my grandma either. My grandpa's got the wool over his eyes, they drink together, she flirts with him, she knows how to play him. Her jewelry, hell, everything is just a dollar sign to them. Makes me sick.

I wish I had money to sign up for a kickboxing class. I've always wanted to take one and I truly think it'd help in so many ways. Someday it will be another regret of the things I didn't do. As if I didn't have enough of those already.

I don't want to waste my life wishing I would've done more. I think that's worse than death. I'm so sick in my stomach with all this I can't take it.

R.I.P. Betty Jane

It happened. March 7, 2011 Betty Jane Deel, world's greatest grandma died. I knew it was coming, obviously. The last time I had a big cry about it was my last blog about it... ya, I haven't really cried since she died.

She died Monday morning at 8:05. I talked to her Friday and said we could visit the whole day, she said, "No, come later." ... I was hurt by this and atm I wish I wouldn't have listened. She went to the hospital that night I believe around 1am. I tried calling Saturday and she couldn't talk. Sunday we got a call saying to come down because it didn't look good. I knew what was coming, I didn't know how long it would take but I begged Tristan to take the day off and go with me.

I walked in to a good bye room. Everyone that loved her more than life was there, surrounding her, with boxes of tissue at her feet. It was kind of poetic. This made it real. I sat by her for awhile playing with her hair, she always liked that. She was awake about an hour before we got there... they induced her in to a morphine coma to ease the pain until ... well, until she died.

We took the boys to the park. Jason's only 7, he didn't need to sit in a hospital all day and watch my grandma die, though he did know it was coming. He kept asking Tristan and I if we'd been around death. *broken heart*

When we were done with the kids I thought visiting hours were over. I learned later I could've stayed all night if I'd wanted. We left my grandpa's around 11pm I want to say, we went back to our hotel and tried to get some rest.

I couldn't sleep, wondering when it would happen. I always envisioned this moment, my grandma dying. I always wondered how it would play out, if I would stay for weeks, move down to keep my grandpa company, close up and do nothing. I prayed for the first time ever that she wouldn't get better. I prayed for her to die within 24hrs. I let her go.

She's lived 8yrs longer than we thought she would've. She gets sick all the time, in and out of the hospital all the time, getting better than getting worse, me going hysterically crazy... afraid to lose her. But the reality is she can't always keep getting better, I can't ask her to stay forever. She needed to go. She's a fighter and she held on as long as she could've. She got to meet Olivia, which was all she wanted.

I woke up around 7am I gather, dreaming about my grandma all night. I had a feeling I should've just taken Olivia to the hospital. I wished I would've. At 8:15 I got a call from my uncle saying my grandma just passed.

Shock, tears... then a shut down. I jumped out of bed in a hurry to be there for my grandpa, called my mom and brother and headed out the door as quickly as possible.

When I got to my grandpa's I walked in the door and saw my dad, I went to my grandpa and embraced him, wanting him to hold me so I could cry and I did... started to before he told me to stop and straighten myself up, get myself together. That was the end of that.

I've had spurts of tears here and there but no real break down, no real grieving process or mourning. Every time I try to Logan needs to pee or be fed, Olivia wants to be held or eat herself. I've not had five minutes to myself, to clear my head, to allow myself to feel everything I've been feeling.

I'm depressed. I've been avoiding this for a long time. I haven't been depressed, not truly depressed in years. Back then I made the decision it had to stop, I couldn't keep feeling like this and go no where and I keep telling myself that now, perhaps denying myself the chance to grieve in the process. I don't think it's healthy, especially after just having a baby. If anything it'll cause me to turn in to one big train wreck.

Memorial is this Saturday. I'm in charge of everything to do with pictures... I'm not even close to being done. Fail.

Her photo book has arrived in the mail and that's about the only thing complete. *sigh* I'm a skosh overwhelmed. I'll write more when I come down from this, hopefully sooner than later. <3

February 5, 2011 Our Labor Story

I suppose I should be going to bed but I find myself realizing that I haven't posted in a long time, more so about the arrival of our little princess.

Last Thursday Uncle Preston came over and stayed the night. We were all up til 2am, me uploading pictures to Shutterfly and the boys playing video games. Around midnight I got so much pain I could barely sit down. It's not unusual for me to be uncomfortable, though I did have a feeling something was happening.

Around 9am I woke up with contractions. It's been awhile and I wanted to make sure before I woke up Tristan but there was definitely no going back to bed for me. Around 10am I woke up him and we called Ann who told us to time them. For an hour they were 6 minutes apart. We were in labor, Finally!!!

Uncle Preston Obviously did not want to be here, we had brought him though and Tristan certainly wasn't going anywhere so Daniel came and got him. When he got here he also was nice enough to take Logan and Kimber as well as run to the store for us for some last minute things. Thank goodness.

We timed contractions all day and tried napping all day to conserve energy. Whenever they seemed irregular we would decide to lay down, then they would pick up again. Ann doubted real labor I think but I knew she had decided to come. I just felt bad that Logan was there Alllllll day. I had hoped she'd be there by 2pm.

The contractions never went away and later that night Tristan's mom brought Logan back up. Of course, they picked back up and we all got excited. I was Extremely tired and hungry by then seeing as how I munched all day preparing for labor. Tristan made me a grilled cheese around 11pm and we tried watching some comedy which I didn't find so funny at the time.

Around midnight we decided we were too tired to play games with Olivia and we should catch our sleep while we could, planning on her being born when we woke up the next day or something.

Saying good night to Kim we crawled in bed and cuddled and had a little talk... not five minutes later the contractions not only picked up but were the kind I couldn't talk through. They were the kind that I didn't need to tell Tristan I was having because he could tell by looking at me, or me squeezing his hand to get through them... this was it... she was coming, now.

We called Ann who said to time them and call her back. We did that for a little bit before we just decide this was it. She was on her way, Kim was alerted and Tristan and I just laid in bed getting through the contractions. It was quite emotional and almost romantic or... gratifying?

When Ann arrived I was nearly in tears at the thought of being checked. Tristan held my hand for support and... I was an 8! It didn't register at the time, Tristan had to point it out that not only was I pretty much done, but my cervix wasn't scarred and I didn't have to be ripped! That was awesome, just not on my top list of priorities in thoughts.

Her daughter set up the tub and I could get in to it immediately. It was kind of awkward for me, getting in to a tub in front of a crowd in my own living room. Nonetheless I finally gave in and hopped in and it felt sooo good. Tristan was behind me, on the side of me, ready to brace me through contractions. Tristan's mom said I could've been a pioneer woman, I had her laughing while I was in labor. Bahahhaha. I guess all things considered, I Did kick butt.

I didn't kill Tristan's hands, ears or ego. I wasn't mean or feisty, I wasn't irrational or screaming... except at the end.

They got more intense, I braced myself around Tristan's neck and pushed... I got this



My screaming woke up Logan