Tuesday, June 4, 2013

One Month

Reposting from Peyton's blog so you could read this here today as well:

At 6:12 am on Saturday, May 4th, Peyton slipped from our arms into the arms of her heavenly Father.  One month ago today.  How it is even possible that a month has passed is beyond me.  Yet at the same time, it seems so long ago.

In just under 5 weeks we have experienced extreme heartbreak for the loss of our daughter, yet relief that her suffering in this world is no more.  We have experienced the influx of family and friends visiting for what was an incredibly beautiful celebration of Peyton's life.  We also said our goodbyes to these people as they journeyed back home again.  The day after Peyton passed, I walked in to our church for Sunday service for the first time in over 40 days, comforted by being able to be physically present there once again.  We very quickly experienced the first Mother's Day minus another precious child - three quarters of my children no longer with me.  We then went through Peyton's seventh birthday without her here with us.  We also journeyed into the month of June - the first month in seven years where Peyton was not physically present.  I don't know why that is so hard for me.  So many "firsts" in such a short amount of time.

I don't question "why" this had to happen because we always knew that Peyton's time with us would be short.  We didn't know how short.  Each day we had with her was a blessing.  I believe that God allowed us to care for her for the perfect amount of time.  His perfect amount.  If it were up to me, she'd have lived a lot longer. But, really and truly, to have wished her a longer life would have been cruel in the condition she was in.  I've said over and over that my heart rejoices in the fact that she was made whole and is in her new body which can do everything it meant to do, unlike her earthly body.  To look at me as I write this, you would not know the joy that comes from knowing that based on the overflow of tears streaming down my face.  Just as my heart rejoices, it also aches with longing to see her.  To touch her.  To make her laugh or smile.  To hold her without being afraid of breaking her.  How I wish I could have been holding her at the end, but to do so would not have been comfortable for her.  I would never have wished to cause her any undue comfort - especially not to benefit myself and my desire to hold her one last time.  Yet, if having her here again right now would mean having her in that same sick, broken body - then there is no way I would wish that on her.

And so we grieve.  Each day is different.  And it's different for each of us.  It hits us at different times and in different ways.  We get through those waves of grief and we keep pushing forward.  There are good times, yes.  Some smiles and laughter even.  Sometimes funny things aren't funny.  Other times, "normal" things in life seem suddenly stressful and overwhelming.  I have times where I just need my space.  I don't know if that's right or wrong, but it's what I need sometimes.

Lately, I have been working through my own physical issues.  I've set up a doctor appointment for my annual visit {oh joy!}.  I need to be sure to keep on top of that.  I began going to my chiropractor once again after a long hiatus.  Even my dental work has fallen by the wayside.  I have needed some particular work done for probably 2 years now  It's finally getting done this morning.  There will be more to come, but this particular issue is that far behind schedule in being taken care of.  My stress causes me to grind my teeth and essentially caused some "earthquake" type activity in a few of my teeth from the pressure of grinding my teeth so badly.  Then there's the issue of rest.  I'm not getting it.  I am sleeping so poorly these days.  I contacted my doctor about that again.  I personally think my issue goes beyond needing something to help me sleep.  I'd like to get a sleep study done to see if there's more to my problems than just an inability to fall and stay asleep.  Bit by bit, I'm working through all of these things.

I'm still feeling overwhelmed with what all will have to be done in terms of Peyton's room and all her things, but it's too much to handle right now. I've made little tiny bits of progress here and there.  Not so much that you'd notice if you walked in, but I know what's been done, and small though it may be, feels like a huge accomplishment to me.

Beyond the figuring out what to do with "things", there's the figuring out of "me".  I feel a little lost - like I'm not sure who I am right now without being that caregiver.  Yes, I am a wife and a mother and we are working on spending more time as a family now - all of those are good things to work on.  But my identity was so tied up in Peyton's every single day for years and now that she isn't here, neither is that identity.  Yes, I entertain thoughts of returning to school to become a nurse but, first, it's not the right time right now.  Second, it's not free.  Third, there's a wait list - and that makes me wonder just how soon I might need to act on things just to get my name on a list so I can start school in a couple years.  Then there's the part of me lacking in self-confidence who can't stand going places without someone I know - how would that Sarah even make it through?!  Forget the fact that the entire class would likely be of an age where they could technically be my children!  There's a lot to consider.  Not today...but someday.

Perhaps all the overwhelming thoughts and worries are contributing to my seeming lack of a brain lately.  I suppose it is good exercise to run up and down the stairs with a purpose, only to forget what that purpose was as soon as I get to the room I only think I'm supposed to have gone to...that time.  Yes, it is possible to check a single pants pocket at least a dozen times and not find the key that was in there until hours later when I threw the pants in to laundry and the key fell right out of said pocket.  Clothes must be in the washing machine in order to be washed.  The same is true for the dryer.  Contact lens solution doesn't belong in the shower.  The first place I look for my keys shouldn't be the refrigerator.  In order to have a conversation with someone, all the facts must come out - not just some of the facts, causing your listener to wonder what's missing from the conversation {unless of course that person is Ron - he's pretty sharp and can almost always fill in the blanks of my cryptic conversations}.  I know for a fact that these behaviors can be blamed on grieving a loss.  Let's just go with that, ok?!

Matthew 11:28

New International Version (NIV)
28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

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