Tag Archives: Death


Another one from Mattie-

Being new to the whole anxiety scene is really frustrating. I know part of having it is learning how to deal with it in daily situations,  but just about every day lately I feel like I am done with the coping and I just want it to end. I just want to take a magic pill and be all better forever. I just want to go back to how I felt before this stupid diagnosis – in my opinion – ruined me. Every little pain or itch or sniffle is assessed far beyond what was normal. Every activity is planned and re-planned to avoid having any issues or an attack.

I hate it. I know that I am the one doing it. I am the one making sure that I have every backup medication possible in my purse. am the one freaking out about whether or not the Tylenol I took for my shoulder pain is going to affect my liver, or if I should risk the stomach bleeding by taking Ibuprofen instead. I am the one trying to find ways to run my errands without my children because I have had anxiety attacks with them in Wal-Mart. am the one trying too hard to put her daughter to bed earlier and earlier so that we both get enough sleep. I am the one in charge of my life and my health, so why can’t I fix this?

I am also the one who decided that driving from Florida to Virginia to go to my Uncle’s funeral was probably not in my best interest.


When Uncle Jim passed away this past Saturday, my mother was the one who had the misfortune of calling me. Poor thing usually is the one who gets that job. I could tell just by the way she said “Hello,” that he was gone. We had been talking about how we were going to handle things when the time came, and I had it in my head that if I were to drive North with my family, I would probably end up in whatever hospital is closest for the entire duration of our stay due to nervous breakdown. I had just started taking Citalopram on Thursday night, and to this day I am not sure how it is going to affect me. I decided without even trying that I simply could not handle an 18 hour drive with my children. I hate myself for that. I know for a fact that I have a huge support network in my parents and the rest of my family, and I feel as if I have just slapped them in the face and told them they are not good enough. Selfish little girl.,

At the same time, I know that this is not about me. It’s about being there for my cousins who have just lost their father. It is about being there for my aunt, who is burying the love of her life on their 48th wedding anniversary, and the 16th anniversary of the death of their youngest son. I already missed that funeral, and anyone who knew me at the age of sixteen can tell you that it seriously messed me up. I ran away from home that weekend and did quite a few things that I am so not proud of, and my parents will never let me forget. I finally got some closure last year when I was in Virginia and was able to visit Clay’s grave. I feel more and more like I am telling myself that I am not strong enough to handle it. That I probably will never be. And if that isn’t the scariest thing I have ever felt in my life, I don’t know what is.

But, I ultimately decided it would be best if I stayed home. Selfish, selfish.

I went to the wedding of two friends on Saturday night and had a wonderful time. The Huzz asked me to dance for the first time in our almost eleven years together. The Teenager was sufficiently bored until food was served. Little Miss didn’t stop dancing and stalking the bride until we left. I woke up feeling great on Sunday, which was a blessing because it was my birthday. I went to my parents’ house and saw them off on their drive to Virginia, then came home and opened presents and smiled and laughed with friends. I ordered the flowers for the funeral from our mixed families. I went to dinner with my husband and kids. My boss gives everyone a paid day off for their birthday, so I took Monday off and snuggled on the couch with Little Miss and watched The Little Mermaid (one of my gifts). I relaxed and did laundry like any normal day.

In the end I knew it wasn’t a normal day. I still had to take my pills at the end of the night. I got confused by having the day off and took the wrong pill, which gave me twice the dose I normally take. It was a dosage I had taken in the past, but when I added my new meds on top, it made me a little scared. I texted a friend who is an RN and she assured me that I wasn’t going to die. I already knew that I should be fine, but it helps me to hear it from a professional. I still have that scared little girl inside of me who just wishes her Mommy was here, and not so far away. And then I feel selfish again. See? Vicious cycle.

Rambly long post, I know, and I am sorry for that, readers. I guess what I am trying to say is, you never know what is going to happen and you can’t let your anxiety rule your life. Every missed opportunity and experience just adds to the anxiety for me. The what if’s pile on each other and then I am back in the ER And even as I am typing this, my brain is screaming, “HOW CAN YOU EVEN SAY THAT? HYPOCRITE! YOU KNOW FULL WELL IF SOMEONE TOLD YOU THAT, YOU’D BITE THEIR HEAD OFF.” Which is completely true.

For now.

Mattie- That Selfish Little Girl

The thing not talked about


January 2002 I found out I was pregnant.

It was exciting.

I didn’t think about anything going wrong. I was bummed that the OB/GYNO required me to be eight weeks before seeing me. January 31st could not come fast enough. I was already thinking about what our christmas pictures would look like.

I knew within minutes something was wrong.  I remember the look of concern on the midwife’s face. There is nothing that prepares you to see that empty little circle on the screen. I remember the doctor telling me that I would probably start bleeding in a day or two.. That he was surprised that I hadn’t started bleeding already. Two years of trying to conceive, to get to here.

February 4th my dad passed away very suddenly. The next day, I started bleeding.

I try not to think about what I have lost. I try to focus on the good, the positive, the happy. Sometimes though it creeps back. I find myself reading other blogs and relating even though our loss was so early. It wasn’t lost on me when I did get pregnant and carry to term that this one was also due in August.  What I never told anyone was that during the whole pregnancy with my daughter I never thought I would actually be bringing a baby home.

The difference between my pregnancy loss and the loss of my father were very different. Not just in the normal ways you may think.  It seemed like people were less sensitive about the pregnancy loss than they were my father.  The reoccurring thought that comes up when I think back to that time was a lot of people would say, ” Well it wasn’t meant to be, ” And ” He lived a good life.”    Please don’t mistake this as  me brushing off well meaning comments. I don’t fault what they were saying. In fact many times I was comforted. I am looking at this only as reflection.

The simple fact that stands out to me is…..a life was lost. It doesn’t matter how long or short that life was. Every life is precious.  No matter what.

Society tends to make people very uncomfortable with talking about loss. Its something that is not discussed. Any kind of loss.

This has actually been a lot harder to write about than I thought. I thought I was ready.  I know from experience that it means it’s still brewing and I will more than likely hit this subject again.

What hits the hardest for me is the loss of potential. I see what my  a smart creative and beautiful person my daughter is turning out to be and I wonder. …..Would that child have been such a great mix of both myself and my husband? Would he/she have been more my traits or more my husbands physical traits? Would he/she be more sports oriented? More arts oriented? Would he/she be into climbing trees or playing tea party? What would this child have wanted to be when they grew up?  What would I be like as a mother to two? Would my heart swell even more when I saw both my children with my husband than it does now when I see my daughter and him together? What would my daughter be like to be a younger sister?

So yes , I embrace every part of living vicariously through my friends pregnancies, their babies and I am content but not always at peace with stopping with one child. I miss the swell of the belly, the fluttery kicks, the sound of the heartbeat. The silky soft skin, the new wonder they gaze at the world with, The firsts, the joy, the laughter. I will spoil the children around me because they are miracles and for me its a step towards healing for me.  It doesn’t seem like I should still be healing from something that happened in 2002.

I still don’t quite know how to answer when people ask if we are planning more.  It doesn’t seem enough to just say no we aren’t. I feel a need to explain, not for sympathy but because I don’t want to forget either.  I feel the need to shout I wanted more! I planned for more!


A bittersweet Fathers Day.


Fathers day….so many mixed emotions for me. While I love watching my daughter with my husband…..I miss my dad.


September 16th 2000 my husband and I got married. My father walked me down the isle…We were a little too ready and didn’t wait til the last bridesmaid got to the alter…..Nope We were sure we were suppose to go when she got to a certain pew…Even the pastor was trying to stop us…nope…wasn’t happening. We were walking down that isle.

January 2002 I got my first pregnancy test. It was really hard to make it to that first appointment. January 31st finally came. Everything collapsed. There was no heartbeat and my uterus did not feel like it should. That ultrasound was the saddest thing I had ever seen.We were trying so very hard. Why was it eluding us.

February 5th 2002 I was kinda flipy floppy about if I should go have lunch with Dad or just stay at work in the break room. I called him. He had plans but I was welcome to go with him. Naw no big deal, perhaps tomorrow. We went on our ways……little did I know that tomorrow would not come. An hour and half later my mom called to say he had a heart attack and was on his way to the hospital.

My father wasn’t there to hold his first grandbaby. Oh how I missed him that day. Missed his big grin when he was super happy. Missed seeing him hold my baby.

Father’s day is bittersweet to me for this reason. Its the one day that  I know I will think about him.

My anxiety has been super high the past week and I couldn’t figure out why. See that’s the sneaky thing about anxiety…it recognizes things but your subconsciousness kind of suppresses it until someone says something and then its like…..oh…that’s it…that’s what spiked my anxiety. That’s why I have been having panic attacks out of nowhere. I didn’t really associate the two right away. Trying to protect myself from even eleven years later to still miss him, mourn him. To see my daughter with her father and her grandfather and know that there is one missing. The picture doesn’t seem complete. Not everyone gets that. They don’t understand how that could be the cause. That I want to protect myself from the emotions that will come. Others will get it right away. I feel things very deeply and my anxiety is closely tied to that. There isn’t much I can say that will convey it any better.


I see alot of my father in my daughter as well. I know his physical form is gone, his spirit is definitely strong in her sometimes. She has spit things out and I was just stupefied that she said that. She has never met him but his words just came out of her mouth. I like to be outside and hike in good weather. She enjoys being outside despite the weather. It reminds me of him working on his compost pile.  She appreciates old cars which is no surprise. My husband and I have a big love of them. My mother drives a 1956 Chevy Belair. She just has this quiet appreciation that he had. Its hard to describe this detail. Its just there.

We have had discussions about him. She knows who he is.  It seems like a small comfort but it really isn’t. She knows who he is. Its important.

Fathers are important even when they are gone. There impact lasts.

So yeah a bittersweet Father’s day it is. It doesn’t take away from the day at all. It adds to it. Makes it even more special.


So here is to future Father’s days…when she is older and he annoys her…I hope she looks back on these blogs and these pictures and remembers…Remembers how lucky she is to have a Father who is there. Who cared. Who loves her. Who has done a great job thus far shaping her into the wonderful lady she will be.