Austin

When I found out that I was pregnant with twins, I was in a total state of shock. I didn’t believe the ultrasound technician. Even after seeing the print out that you receive, I was still in complete denial. It is hard to wrap your brain around the fact that you have more than one human being growing in you.
My mother- in- law had come with me on the day I found out. She had taken me to get my first ultrasound. When I walked back to the waiting room, she could see the dismayed look on my face. She immediately asked me what was wrong. I said, “There is two”. She was thrilled, and gave me a big hug. She thanked me for what she called a 'gift' of grandchildren. I was so dam excited, that I just had to share the news with Mark right away. On the way back to his parent’s house, Jane and I stopped off at Mark’s job. He was working for a title insurance company at that time. I wanted to tell him in person. I wanted to see his reaction.
When I went in, I asked for him. One of the girls working there went to tell him I was there to see him. I was bursting at the seams to tell him! When he came to the front of the office, I told him the news. “We are having two babies!” All the ladies in the office congratulated us. I don’t think he was able to wrap his brain around it either. He still looked like he was in a state of shock when I left.
I couldn’t wait to get back to the house to call my mother. I rushed to the phone, dialed her number at work, and waited anxiously for her to answer. When she answered the phone, I said, “Mom, are you sitting down?’ She was confused, said that she was, and asked why. I said, “There are two”. She said, “Two what?”. I said, “We are having twins. There are two babies.” Silence. She was stunned. She yelled to her co-workers that I was having twins. There were cheers in the background. The tone was set. Joy. Sheer joy.
To me, it was such a gift. Mark is an only child, and I thought was how blessed we were to be give an instant family. His parents would have two grand babies at once. I knew the chance of me having more children after this was not likely, so to give him the gift of two children thrilled me beyond measure.
The pregnancy went smoothly, nothing out of the ordinary, and the babies were, according to all the tests, completely healthy. I was huge! Seriously, huge. By the end of the pregnancy, each baby weighed over six pounds, which is big for twins, considering a single baby often weighs only six pounds. Roxy was baby 'A', and Austin, baby 'B'. That was the birth order. Roxy would be born first, then Austin would be born second.
When Austin died, the blow to my heart was so hard, I didn’t think I would ever breath again. That wasn't supposed to happen. He was fine. All along, he was fine. What happened?
I was in such a state of shock. To say I was numb doesn’t completely describe the feeling. The pain of a loss of a child engulfs you, smothers you, suffocates you.
When we were leaving the hospital, I remember being wheeled down to the front corridor, waiting for Mark to get the car. I was holding Roxanne, and then, like a tsunami, such intense grief overtook me. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leave my baby behind. I knew he was on  cold table, in a drawer somewhere in that hospital, and I just wanted to go get him, and take him home with me. My child should not be in such a place. He should be with me, wrapped up, safely in my arms. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I needed more time. As we drove away from that hospital, a part of my heart was left behind.
My mom wasn’t sure, and debated whether or not to take his crib out  from their bedroom before I came home. I was glad that they left it. I went in to the room, shut the door, and sat in between both cribs. I wept. I did this for days. When I felt ready, I had it removed.
For days, I walked around as if I was in a fog. The grief was like a ragging horror. It abused me. I would spontaneously break out into wails of grief. I didn’t understand. I wanted to know, Why? Why did God take my baby. Why did he take my only son. I thought for so long it was punishment. Punishment for an abortion I had many years ago. One in which I felt tremendous remorse and guilt. I thought it was time to pay up. I know God doesn’t work that way, but I couldn’t help but feel that was part of the reason. I have come to know that isn’t it at all.
There is a scene in the movie Steel Magnolias, where Sally Field’s character, M’Lynn’s daughter, Shelby died, and she is at the funeral, standing alone at the coffin. The funeral is over, and the attendees have all dispersed. Her closest girlfriends notice she isn’t with them,  turn to see she is still standing alone, and return to do what they can to help her. They are trying to console her, but she is so inconsolable. Then, she begins to get mad. She is trying to make sense of why her daughter passed away. Why she went so soon. She begins to go into a rant, and one of the things she says, is “No! No! It’s not supposed to happen this way! I’m supposed to go first. I’ve always been ready to go first. I-I don’t think I can take this! I-I don’t think I can take this! I-I just wanna hit somebody ‘til they feel as bad as I do! I just wanna hit something! I wanna hit it hard!” I wanted to hit something, too. I wanted everyone to feel the pain I was feeling.
They say there are five stages of grief, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. I know them all too well. Been there enough times, and you would think going through it so many times would make it easier. Well, it doesn’t. And it sucks. It really sucks. Whether it is a loss of a child, loved one, the end of a marriage, or a break up, it still hurts. And you can’t fast track each stage. As much as you want you. If you deny the process, it always resurfaces. You will eventually have to deal with it. Pay the Piper time….
These past several years have been a continual process going through grief for me. I read a quote in the book, “The Language of Letting Go”, “My feelings have been stored for so song they have freezer burn”. It really resonated with me. I have tried to avoid the pain of going through grief, and am dealing with unresolved issues.
I also feel tremendous guilt for my other children, Kristen and Kelley. I was so consumed with my own grief, that I don’t feel I gave them the time they needed from me. No one can prepare you for this. I didn’t know how to handle it. I could barely endure what I was feeling, and pushed everyone away. I wish now that I would have crawled into bed with them, wrapped them up in my arms, and cried together. Let them have the time they needed to cry with me. To let them know that I am here. We will get through this. It is ok to cry. You can still count on me. I wanted them to know I would be ok.
They were told to be strong for mommy. How could they possibly know how to do such a thing? They were just as confused. They just lost their brother, too. They needed to grieve. They were only little girls. I wish now I sent them to counseling. They needed a place to express what they were feeling. They needed a voice. And I didn’t give it to them.
Some people may think I have gone off my rocker when I say this, but for about three months after his death, I felt him with me. I would be sitting with Roxy on the couch, when I would feel the presence of a child running around me. It didn’t scare me. It was as if he was playing hide and seek. It was a playful feeling. At first it wouldn’t bother me. But, as time went on,  he became more intense in trying to get my attention. One day, I finally said to him, “It’s time to go. It is ok to go now. I love you. Now go.” From that forward, I didn’t feel him around me. Sometimes, now I wish I do.....

Austin
Floating, floating…
Still and quiet.
So close, too late.
Gone for now, but not for always.
Did you suffer little one?
In the darkness you weren’t alone.
There were no signs, I did not know.
I can’t seem to let you go.
Confused, bewildered…
Still in shock.
Angry at God.
I prayed for you, I praised god to have you.
My only son, and now you’re gone.
My mind won’t accept, I can’t put my heart to rest.
Goodbye for now, my sweet little one, until the day we meet again.
by, Kimberly Saxe

A new destination...

Roxanne. Sweet, Sweet, Roxanne.
I hate to admit that I don’t remember the first few months of her life all that well. I was so consumed with grief from the loss of Austin, that I was just going through the motions most of the time. I never admitted this, but I was angry. Angry that Austin died and she survived. I didn’t ignore her, but it was very hard for me to bond with her initially. It passed, but I hate myself for feeling that way. It wasn’t her fault. She was the sweetest, most gentle soul. She was patient with me. She lost her brother. I believe she was grieving, too. The little brother that kept her company for so long was no longer there. Although I do believe he is with her. He is her guardian angel.
Roxanne was a very quiet baby. Not fussy. She didn’t cry very often. She did love to be held, which I was happy to oblige. When we were alone together, I would sit for long periods of time, and hold her. I would sing to her. I would talk to her. I would hold her while doing chores. What bonding we didn’t do in the first few days, we more than made up for. Having a child with seizures and Autism was not at all what I bargained for. It isn’t the vision I had for our life. In the same way you plan a vacation, select the destination, buy all the books, clothing, and necessities for that particular destination, only to wind up arriving in a completely different place, it left me mad, unprepared, frustrated, looking for a way to get back on track, and go to my original destination.
Once you learn and accept that isn’t going to happen, you have a choice. You either decide to try to enjoy where you are, and make the best of it, or you remain bitter, resentful, and even jealous. I admit, I often teeter between the two. So much of how I feel depends on how Roxy is doing. If she has a good day, I feel good. If she has a bad day, I feel sad. I have heard it said that “parents are only as happy as their least happiest child”. It seems to be a universal truth. To any parent that has overcome that, I am in awe.
I truly don’t mean to be pessimistic. I really struggle with this. Only someone living with a child with seizures could possibly understand. The daily uncertainty. Never knowing what to expect from one minute to the next. Plans made. Plans canceled. No rhyme or reason. One day she is fine. The next day is a whirlwind.  Hope seems so distant. Bubbles of joy bursted. Living with constant disappointment, not wanting to get too excited when another hour passes without a seizure. Bowed shoulders tell all.
When a day goes by it almost makes it harder. Why? Because you experience how life ‘could be like’. But you are never really able to allow your guard down. You are always living in alert mode. Waiting for the ball to drop. And, it does. It always does.
I watch my pink, bubbly, vivacious child, go from a smile to a grimace. Her body stiffening so hard it ridged. If no one is there to catch her, she falls to the ground with a hard thud. Her body jerking and shaking with such intensity. Eyes bulging, rolling back, watering from not blinking. Pink to Blue. Hands clenched. Mouth clenched, often biting down on the inside of her cheek, or tongue. Unconscious. Not breathing. Once the electric storm in her brain passes, she expels air, goes limp, and struggles to breath again. Struggles to fill her lungs with air. Such abuse.
After the seizure, she sleeps. Her little body tries to rest. To restore. To heal. To rest after what it just endured. She will be disoriented, unsteady. Over, and over. The most frustrating thing, is that she is unable to communicate with us how she feels. She can not tell me in words what it feels like, what she experiences, what she sees, or feels prior to a seizure. Only her eyes talk to me. I know Roxanne. Mommy understands. It is cruel.
Hospitals, doctors, tests, medication after medication. Failure after failure. The side effects sometimes worse than the seizures. Awake or asleep they still come. They are relentless. No rest. No time. Tired of questioning, “Dear Lord, will this be the one?”
Well intentioned people say, “Have a life in spite of”….I say, “Walk one day in my shoes.” I am sure they will never say another word. I used to get angry, but now I accept that they just don’t understand. They speak out of ignorance. Only wanting to help.
Oh just give us one more day seizure free! Please! Trying to have an as semblance of normal. Normal. I don’t even know what that means anymore. Consumed. Exhausted. Wanting time for myself. Faith waning. Faith tested. Angry at God. Again, questioning, “Why!” Is it me? Did I do something? Believing somehow my behavior dictates how bad or good she will be. If I am real good Lord, will you stop this? No.
Some days, all I want to do is cry. Cry and sleep. Cry, cry, cry, and cry some more. Cry until I can’t cry another tear. I feel as though there is nothing left in me. Sleep walking through life. A coma. Going through the motions. Doing the least of what is expected. But, that is all I have some days. I hear, I see, I am aware of what is around me, but I still can’t do anything. Anything that is, but cry....

Heart Keepers...

I am going to digress a bit here, and talk about a current life lesson I have learned. 
It has been a very emotional year for me for many reasons. I have been on an emotional roller coaster of a personal kind. Not one that is typically caused by circumstances outside of me, like my daughter's health, financial difficulties, family issues, etc. 
From the time I got married to my husband, I began a slow descend into becoming very isolated. My energy had been very focused on my new husband, and with becoming pregnant. A longtime friendship I had  with my best friend had become severed just prior to my marriage, which only added to my descent. My heart was broken from it, and I channeled all my energies into my new life. I made his friends, my friends.
After the birth of our daughter, and death of her twin, my only son, I began a deeper decline into depression. When Austin died, the blow was so hard to my heart, I didn't think I would ever breath again. Here I had a beautiful daughter, Roxy, and yet, the pain I was in, was more than I thought I could bear. I felt like I was sleep walking though life, and that at some point I would wake up. It is a strange feeling; joy and grief entwined. I never got the chance to fully experience just the joy. Eight months later, our life would take another dramatic turn. Our daughter began having uncontrolled seizures. The last eleven years have been caring for, and devoted solely to her. She requires complete and total care. Other life events needed my attention as well, so I have been stretched to full capacity.
I have heard many times, that being the caretaker for a disabled person, it is especially crucial to make time for yourself. I am a care taking machine. It is what I do. It is part of my makeup. I have always been one to put others first. I am the person that uses her own birthday money to buy for others. Taking time for myself is not in my vocabulary. But, it should be. I am learning this, the hard way. 
Over the years, I have craved for a friend again. My husband is my friend, but I craved female friendship. I needed female friendship. I prayed to God to send me a new friend. But, in order to have friends, we must be available. We must be open to it. And we must invest time. What I didn't realize, was I had this warped loyalty to my husband, and felt guilty if my time wasn't devoted to our daughter, and him. God won't send us what we need, until we have our hands open to receive. 
This year, I made a conscious decision to give myself permission to have a friend again, and to make time for her. The problem was, how do you make friends, when you're always home, when your time is so limited, are not part of any group, or participate in any class, etc? 
So, I set out to reconnect with people that I was friends with, that I genuinely cared for. I have reconnected with Ro, my 'adopted' sister. I have found in her what it must be like to have a real sister. But, now that I was open to it, God didn't stop there. He reconnected me with Patty, Alicia, and brought Sharon,  Shay, and now Missy into my life.
It is the end of the year, and as we move forward, we look to the new year for new possibilities, second chances, hope for better things. I look forward to spending more time with my friends, and deepening our friendship. As I look back and reflect over this year, the thing I am MOST proud of, is the friendships that I have formed with them. 
They have brought life back to life for me. They have been through this year with me, and at times, have pulled me from the depths of despair. They have added new dimensions to me, make me laugh, have allowed me to be completely authentic, and still love me. They bring BALANCE to my life, are my sounding-boards, my therapist, and most importantly, my Heart Keepers.....

How I chose the name for Blog...

I chose the name for my blog from a poem I had written. The poem is as follows:



Wonderlust and Broken Dreams

I was a fair faced child, with freckles on my nose-
I smiled with such ease, was full of life, I seemed to glow-
I looked at life through rose tinted glasses, wondelust and dreamy, I am a lot like my dad, or so it seemed.
The resemblance is uncanny, there is definately no doubt, I'm his daughter, the first child, and my mother was proud.
An event took place that changed me forever-
I wouldn't even recognize how until later.
My dad would leave, leaving behind him, a path of destruction, pain, hurt, and confusion.
It didn't seem to phase him, he had already decided, as he pulled away, I stood at the window and cried. Not fully believing that he would leave me, cause when he left I felt he took his love with him.
After the shock settled, the worst was to come, this girl would grow up chasing his love.
I'd make bad decisions, poor choices in men, have no self worth, and always give in-
There'd be a yearning inside me, a continual search, for someone to capture, and cure my hurt.
Through all my experiences, one thing has rang true:
A GIRL NEEDS HER DADDY-
to show her his love-
make her feel cherished, and know true love.
Be the port in the storm, strong, and guide her,
make her feel safe from the world around her,
let her know she's loved through and through,
so when she grows up, she'll know what to do......

My dad's leaving set a chain of events that forever changed my life. One of the biggest has been the 'perpetual search'.....

How it all started.

I've been told on several occasions that I should write a book. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I think that is why I chose to blog. It will be good practice for me. Ok. Let me start by telling you, the gentle reader, a little bit about my background. 
I'm not a writer, so I didn't think I would be up to the task. I've always kept a diary, but that isn't close to the huge undertaking of compiling my thoughts and putting them in book form. Do I start when I was a child? It is, after all, the sum of all the parts that defines who I am today, right? 
Do I talk about my first husband? Do I make it a book solely about Roxanne, her Epilepsy, the trials and tribulations, near death experiences, fights with insurance companies, doctors, the many hospital visits? 
What about the death of her twin, Austin, and how I carry the pain with me to this day? This is a dilemma for me. 
Do I make it a book that comes across as though I am sitting in a support group, and it is my turn to 'share'? If so, what support group should I choose? Alcoholics Anonymous? Alanon? Adult children of Alcoholics? Bereavement Group? Epilepsy Support Group? Autism Support Group? Over Eaters, Perpetual People Pleasers....get my drift? 
I certainly have enough experience to know what it is like to be a child of an alcoholic, a product of divorce, continuing the cycle and marrying an alcoholic, having children at a young age, being a 'typical' co-dependent, divorced, remarried, losing a child, being the caretaker of a disabled child, living through tumultuous teenage years, and the affects it all has on marriage. At least our marriage. 
Add to the mix dealing with my own challenges, having had three back surgeries, needing future back surgery, living in chronic pain, all the while caring for Roxanne. How I made it through, and continue to make it through, I'll never know. I think it is God's mercy. No, I know it was. So, here we go.....