Archive for November, 2012

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The Day

November 18, 2012

I made it through the day the Norah died 5 years ago. I did drag 4 children to the store and then discussed what day it was and what we were about to do. I extracted promises from the 2 older kids to help with the 2 younger kids. We shopped for a 5 year old on the Salvation Army Angel tree. It was fun to pick out everything. The kids enjoyed trying on shoes and playing with all the toys. I made notes for Christmas. We order through a drive through and went to a park where we ate our picnic lunch. We played at the park for 2 hours. The sun was casting long shadows in the winter southern sky. I turned my face to the sun and absorbed the rays. I watched and played with my kids but silently mourned the one who wasn’t there.

Yes, I’ll push you, because I can’t push her.

Yes, I’ll chase you, because I can’t chase her.

Yes, I’ll hold your drink, because I can do nothing for her.

I miss her.

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Untitled

November 17, 2012

This morning I went to Yoga class like I do most Saturday mornings. I didn’t sleep well last night; the memories were haunting me. I vowed to be present; to focus on the now. It was a struggle. I am mourning and it tugs at my mind constantly. After yoga, I ran. I ran until I almost threw up. Why? I think I wanted to punish my body for betraying me, Norah, and our family. I have no comfort right now. Coach is away.

Kids from the neighborhood were at our house from 12-4. They filter in and out on most days. Lots of them. I hung out outside in the southern sun trying to absorb as many rays as possible. I watched for the imminent fight and diffused situations. But always, my sadness is barely containable. If Coach were here, I would have left…retreated to the solice of the woods. I would have run until I did throw up, until my legs would not function anymore. I do not even have the privacy to cry like I want to. So, I mourn within myself. I miss my daughter. Like always, we adopted a 5 year old for Christmas (or whatever age that Norah would have been). Tomorrow, I’ll take everyone shopping for this 5 year old’s presents, and I will “celebrate” her brief life with the kids.

I gave Coach a pep talk today. I told him in hindsight it is so easy to criticize yourself. You have the advantage of telling yourself what you should have done. The subject was completely unrelated to Norah. Yet, from my own personal perspective, that is what I was talking about and only applying it to the situation at hand. How easy it is for me to dwell and say that I should have known. How painful and self-destructive it is to continue on that path. And yet, I let myself. It is my own punishment for not bringing Norah safely into this world.

I long to speak with her.

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It is that time of year again

November 17, 2012

The sun dims in the afternoon sky. A chill covers me early in the afternoon. The smell of decaying leaves, the long shadows, and the crisp air constantly remind me of Norah. I am two days away from 5 years and every hour I am reminded of her.

Five years ago, I was teaching my last class with her….

Five years ago, I was walking in the woods with her…

Five years ago, I was preparing for labor…

Five years ago, my daughter died.

I mourn her, not like the immediate aftermath but still, I mourn her. I feel her around sometimes. But, I am sure that it is just my imagination…a protective barrier devised by my brain to shelter me. I tell myself that I can not feel her because I have convinced myself that she was born into another life. I hope to meet her someday. Therefore, I can not feel her because she is in this this world.

I have devised many mechanisms to shield me from pain. I could write pages about the different tactics I have used in the past and in the present to allow myself to function in everyday life. My favorite is that death is not a end but a beginning. However, I don’t know that. I’ve never died (at least that I can remember).

Words like I think or I believe or I feel are not part of my everyday vocabulary. I am a scientist. I only seek the truth. My profession does not allow me to express ambiguity. Yet, at the end of the day, I think Norah is around; I believe she is living a fulfilling life; I feel like I will meet her again.