When You Lose Your Father...

*NOTE: I wrote this post in August on my dad's birthday, but it has taken me a while to finally share.

 

When you lose your father, everything changes.  A wound is forever etched on your heart.  It doesn't matter if you are 23 years old or 63 years old, your world is forever altered.  The man who was a constant in your life since birth is gone.  The one that you looked to for advice no longer available.  The man who saw you for everything you could be and become, and believed in you when others did not.  Gone.

It was in that moment, when my dad died, that all of sudden my world became a place of daughters who have fathers and daughters without fathers.  Almost 11 years after his death, and I still feel pains of jealousy when I watch a father hug his daughter.  October 2003 was the last time I hugged mine. 

Today my father would have celebrated his 63rd birthday, except time froze for him at 52.  These last few months have been incredibly painful and emotional.  Grief is an ever-changing emotion.  I can best relate grief to ocean waves.  Sometimes they are rough and loud and all encompassing, and other times gentle, quiet and subdued.  Either way...the waves never leave you.  The same is true of grief.  It becomes part of who you are... a sort of emotional tattoo that is never to be removed. 

 

It is not a secret that I have been in therapy since May.  Life, day-to-day stress, job, anxiety, depression...I've been struggling, but I've also been fighting and processing.  In the midst of processing and therapy I have discovered I have an underlying "theme" so to speak.  My last decade could have been appropriately named, "Loss".   So much loss in such a short period of time.  Two miscarriages exactly one year apart to the day.  September 29.  Two precious babies, two lives gone.  A dream realized at the turning of two pink lines, and a dream destroyed by death of children unheld by human arms.  Girl and boy.  Pink and blue.  Lucy and Zachary.  Never to breathe, never to cry, never to enter this world. 

Then five weeks after the loss of my second baby, the loss of my father.   So young, so much life left.  Cancer.  It came and took.  It robbed me of years with him.  It cheated me of conversations, advice and holidays.  Cancer stole the meeting of his grandchildren.  It took the very breath within him.  Depleted him of the light that shined to so many.  Cancer gripped and took a man from earth that loved people, who wasn’t afraid to touch the lives of others and to love.  Cancer ripped him from my closed fisted grasp.  I clung onto his life but cancer didn’t care.  

There was barley time for anything… barely time to make arrangements, barely time to embrace… to say last words.  “I love you” whispered through tears running down his sunken cheeks.  Barely time for warm October sun to shine long enough to brush his face through ICU windows, to make last requests…promises. And then to unwillingly release him…to let go...finally to open my hand....gone.

As with anger there are stages of grief.  And unfortunately you don't cycle through them all one time and then your done.  I have learned you can cycle through many different times and move from one stage to the next and then back to another.  An ongoing process that continues to mark the years.

Milestones pass for my children...first steps, first words, first days of school, holidays, Christmas programs, baseball games.  Sometimes I find myself looking for him...sometimes I am not looking for him and another person reminds me of him.  It grieves my heart that he never met Luke, Grace and Bella.  That he never met David's wife Katie.  Life continues on...but the pain remains.  Quiet sometimes and fierce at other times, and it makes me angry that they are missing out on him.  His generosity, his sense of humor, his funny adventures, his unconventional problem solving, his heart. 

I have such wonderful memories of my father.  He would drive David and I to school several mornings of the week while my mom worked at the law firm.  He would fire up the big Chevy green van.  It would roar to life and he would ever so delicately balance his hot mug of coffee the entire way.  How he didn't spill it is beyond me? 

In Fremont, CA he owned a mobile home wash and wax business.  There were a few times I got to go to work with him in the little red truck.  It was fun to help him wash the homes and eat out of the white and red igloo.  I especially enjoyed when he would let me shift gears in the truck. 

Sometimes Dad would get so irritated with David at times with all his requests and ideas.  But David knew his soft spots and Dad would relent.  It was a fun sort of show to watch :)  David is gifted with my dad's people skills.  Today David is an extremely successful business man.  I know dad would be beaming with pride for David. 

Another memory that I think on often is September 11, 2001.  Dad and I spent September 11 together in matching blue recliners.  He woke me up that day and we sat glued to the TV for hours.  Just him and me. 

I never doubted my dad's love and acceptance.  Yes, he was human and made mistakes and was definitely not perfect.  But the things that mattered...that really mattered...he made sure David and I were paying attention.  My dad loved people!  He could talk to anyone.  He loved being a pastor of a church even though at times it was a difficult job.  He cared about the poor, hurting and hungry. He gave generously.


When you lose your father, you lose part of your identity.  You lose someone that you look up to, a friend, confidant, and one of your biggest supporters.  In losing my father, I have taken up his gauntlet of loving and caring about others, and about investing in my children and family.  And perhaps when you really think about it he continues to live on in lives of my brother and I.  A sort of extension of the man he was through our actions and lives.  Happy Birthday Dad!  Will always miss and love you! 

Breaking the Silence

Welcome back!  I have been silent for several months.  I took a break.  The summer had been crazy, and I have been processing things, and the routine of school starting up happened, and then it seems as though time flew by.

The end of our summer was jam packed with so many things.  From the fair, to camping, back to school preparations, meetings, buying a new truck, meet the teacher, motorbike riding, classroom decorating etc.  It was a lot for this mama.

I had a rough summer...though I enjoyed so much of it with the kids and our activities, but I struggled with me, my role, my goals, my career, the direction life was taking me (or pulling me it seemed).  I suffered some scary vertigo this summer.  One such episode scared me so badly I ended up seeking medical care.  But as it turned out only to be benign positional vertigo.  Stress as I was told can plan a role in what I experienced, and I was very stressed over the summer.

After two very stressful back-to-back teaching experiences, I was ready to throw in the towel on my teaching career.  In fact, at one point decided I was not going back to teaching for the 2014-2015 school year.  But, I had a very vivid dream one night (which I believe to be spiritual) that confirmed within my heart my calling to teach, my passion to teach and my ministry to teach.  So, I jumped back in faith that God was going to do something new and exciting.  I wish I could tell you that I was positive and didn't worry, but I was really kind of a mess in the beginning (nervous and anxious).  But this year has been incredible so far!  I am so filled with joy and LOVE my students, their families and enjoy being on the early childhood teaching team!  My aide is amazing and I enjoy our friendship so much.  I really feel supported.

In a mission to reclaim my mental and physical health I visited both my doctor and naturopathic doctor.  They both ran tests and have helped me feel physically better than I have in a long, long time. I am grateful for access to medical providers and their knowledge.  It was a big step for me to go and ask for help.  My only regret is that I didn't go six months ago.

How are my kiddos doing you might ask?  I know most everything thus far has been about me.  The kids are really doing excellent.  They are all three attending CCA.  And the most wonderful thing is they are all in the same classrooms that they were in last year (different teachers) but they same rooms. It has provided a level of comfort and security for them.  Luke is doing well. He is getting very tall.  We have another Casey Eye appointment coming up this Tuesday.  These make me nervous but the last one was good, so I continue to expect good things.  Bella has lost her bottom two teeth already at four and half years!  My baby!! I guess it is genetic because I lost my bottom teeth at four also.

My Gracie girl is doing very well.  She is beautiful and talented and spirited!  She read a poem in front of the entire school for grandparents day.  She also started the year off reading at grade level!  I am so proud of her.  

Mark is busy with his projects, helping his dad with his projects and working.  He just celebrated 10 years at BNSF Railway!  Crazy it's been 10 years.  

Letter To Myself About Depression

Dear Carissa...I know you are in there somewhere.  In the mist of the crazies of life, the day-to-day kayos, errands, chores and the endless to-do lists of things that must be accomplished...I know you are there.  That twenty-something person who was so independent, creative, courageous and strong.  Yes, you know her...the one that used to rock climb, write children's books and curriculum and take risks.  The one who didn't worry so much about life.  The one that wasn't overburdened by the weight of the world.  She's there...deep down...somewhere.

I want you to know that you are much too judgmental of yourself.  Your perfectionism is draining you.  It will be your greatest undoing.  You do not demand or expect perfection of anyone else...only yourself.  Truth...no one is perfect (not even you)...so STOP!  STOP IT! REALLY!  Stop setting impossible standards for yourself.  Remember to breathe, drop your shoulders, look people in the eye...heck just look up and smile more than you do now.  Except the fact that your house is never going to look like a magazine picture, the laundry is rarely going to be finished, and the bathrooms will not always be sparkly.  It's ok.  I give you permission to let baskets of dirty clothes sit in the laundry room, to not constantly wipe up sticky finger prints that mark the mirrors, and to leave some dishes in the sink yet to be done.  Life will continue. 

I get it.  I know you feel lost right now.  The world seems so mixed up and upside down.  You feel...dare I say it..."depressed" and it is difficult to accurately describe what it is that you are even depressed about.  And I know you...so I know that you feel ashamed that you are depressed.  Because you are supposed to be "perfect", and not have problems and look like you got it all together.  But the truth is you don't.  You feel that depression is a sign of weakness, or ungratefulness, or lack of faith.  It's taboo.  Talking about the "d" word with others is tough.  It's not a comfortable topic.  You wish they would hear you.  Really "hear" you.  You look around and feel trapped.  Wall surround you.  There are no easy answers or solutions or quick fixes.  You see the destination of where you want to go, but doubt if you will ever end up there. 

Sometimes you don't feel anything at all.  You stuff your emotions away deep inside.  If things are going badly, you are reminded to be thankful that you don't have it worse because others do.  And while you concur and recognize that fact, you feel invalidated that you aren't allowed to have any type of emotion because you are "blessed."  And I understand that your heart aches.  I see the frustration you feel.  I would just encourage you to "don't stop feeling."  Even if the feelings are sadness and hurt and dare I say the "d" word.  Because Carissa they are real.  What you feel is real, and valid and true.  You are the only one that can live your life...so have the courage to really live!  And part of life my dear is all the crazy emotions that go along with it.  And...I'll let you in on a little secret...those emotions don't make you weak or broken...they just make you human!

The voices you hear (and yes everyone has internal voices and dialog that bounce around in their brains)...the chatter around you...it's loud and distracting.  The voices that say you aren't good enough, you are a failure, you are nothing...they are never going to go away.  But...you have the power to STOP them.  To shut them up.  To be in control.  You have in in you to make choices for you!  And not choices to please anyone else.  Let the voices fade into the background.  Let them go!  Have the courage to follow you heart and your gut and anything else that is telling you something.  Listen to those feelings, because they are almost always right.  The decisions in your life that really matter...the ones that will be forever linked with you...you went against the crowd, and against what was popular and easy and YOU WERE RIGHT!  Because you trusted you.  You had faith.  You had courage to take a stand even if you stood by yourself.  And guess what? You have that same faith, and that same courage in you now!

Carissa...as Grandy would say "this too shall pass".  So today if you feel depressed, or tired, or weak, or sad...acknowledge the feeling, it's ok.  Your feelings do not define who you are.  You define who you are.  You won't feel this way forever.  You are processing and working it through.  Trust yourself.  Think outside the box, dare to live, laugh out loud, embrace you children,  love your husband.  You've wasted far too much time already worried about what others think.  You are able to think for yourself, and have confidence that you are capable and able to make the best decisions for you.  Love yourself a little or a whole lot because you are worthy of being loved.

Oh...and one more thing...raising kids is tough.  Raising typical developing kids is tough enough, but raising special needs kids is a whole other ball game.  Cut yourself some slack.  You do a very, very good job with your kids.  Remember...you can't ever be the "perfect" mother, it's not possible, so accept it and move on. You don't have a "manual" on how to do this and unfortunately you don't really have very many example of adoptive mom's raising special needs kids.  So you do the very best you can.  Accept the fact that sometime you are going to screw up, and keep walking forward.  Trust the process.  Love more, let more things go.   Remember... the days are long , but the years are short, and you will NEVER, NEVER, EVER get MORE TIME.  You have your allotment of time and that's it.  Make good use of it.  Slow down and watch, look and listen. There is wisdom in the depths of your children.  There is magic in childhood.  There will come a day he won't ask you to play cards anymore, you will be the one asking.  There will come a day where she won't stick play-doh in little glass flower vases, and then the day will come where there won't be any play doh at all.   There will come a day where there will not be any pretend dance shows...so remember that fact when you think about saying "not right now."  Instead say "YES".  You won't ever regret saying "YES".  Yes to them, yes to him, yes to life.

*I wrote this letter to myself as part of my assignment in therapy.  I've been in weekly therapy for several months to learn how to recognize and respond to anxiety and depression.  This one was difficult for me to share as there is a vulnerability to it.  But I really wanted to address that depression is real, should be talked about more and can happen to anyone. 

Respite Care and what it looks like...

Have you ever wondered what respite care is?  What is looks like in someone's home?  Here is a glimpse into ours. 

Sometimes and most times respite care is planned.  Foster Families need breaks, vacations and times away.  That is when they schedule respite with other foster families (like ours).  Sometimes respite is an emergency situation and you have very little notice from when you say "yes" and when the child arrives.  Respite care is also done within a timeline (such as Friday to Monday) or a week of vacation...etc.

Other times our family might do respite care is when a child first comes into care and they are looking for a long term home for them.  Above is an example of a foster child welcome box that was given upon entering care.  This was neat for me to see because our school CCA had put together welcome boxes in one of our monthly community outreach after school events. 



Even after doing foster care for 10 years, it never ceases to cause me to stop and reflect when everything a child owns is brought to you in a bag.  I cried.  For the hurt that you see in their eyes when they are handed to you.  When you search frantically for something to connect with them, to ease their fears and anxiety after their world has been turned upside down.  When they cling to you and push you away all at the same time.  My heart breaks. 

We loved this little one for a few days and then he moved on to his long term home.  We are privileged to help in the moments of uncertainty, moments for breaks and rejuvenation.  It is a ministry, a tough ministry that causes your world to become larger.  You count your blessings, hold your babies a little tighter and a little longer, and you say a pray for all things in which you cannot control. 

What the World Needs....

...is more 4 year olds re-enacting "Mary Poppins" in downtown Vancouver!!!

Locks of Love

A few days ago, I took a much anticipated trip to my favorite hair salon to see my favorite stylist!  You see I've been growing out my hair for 18 months.  And it was long!  Super long!  It was difficult to do anything with, blow dry, shampoo, or style.  Most days I just let it air dry and then put it up in a pony tail. 

I have known for awhile that I was going to make a change to my hair.  So I spent a few extra months growing it out to make sure it was long enough to donate.  I have always wanted to donate my hair to "Locks of Love".  They are a charity that makes wigs and hair pieces for children going through cancer treatment.  I have been touched by cancer for the last ten years.  My dad passed away from cancer and many family members have had cancer.  People I love.

For me this was something tangible that I could do to show support and love.  Really they are the ones that have done the difficult work (surgeries, treatments, chemo, radiation, tests).

So off it came!  All 10 inches of it.  That is the minimum requirement to donate so they can make the hair piece.  It was a crazy and exhilarating feeling to hold my hair.  Some teenage boys were enthralled with what I was doing and asking me a zillion questions about if I had donated my hair before etc.  It was funny. 

Another reason I choose to cut my hair is to signify a change in my life.  This last year has been difficult and a growing season for me.  I will start a new job position in the fall...one I felt led to.  I will be returning to my roots of early childhood education.  

This style of hair cut always makes me "feel" more teacherish! 

I am very happy with the hair cut and the donation to Locks of Love.

At home the hair goes into a plastic ziplock bag and then submitted with the form.  It will travel all the way to Florida to be processed and made into something beautiful for someone very beautiful!

Appointment Reminder

Tomorrow Luke has a Casey Eye Appointment at OHSU.  It's time for the three month check.  He will also have a visual field test again (since he didn't score very well on the last one).  Usually I am ok the night before the appointments, but I am nervous.  Mainly because whatever the outcome of the testing tomorrow whether joy or frustration I will face alone.  Mark is usually the one who goes with Luke to all the appointments.  They have their special "guy time".  This works out well for me because I have had a difficult time in the past going to these appointments.  If I am to be transparent, I will share with my readers that I have an anxiety disorder.  I am not proud of this fact, nor do I like to dwell on it either.  For the most part I try really, really hard not to let my anxiety limit or control my life.  It is a challenge at times.

You see, the last time I took Luke to a Casey Eye appointment alone...I had a full blown, can't breathe, think I am going to pass out, heart racing panic attack.  I'm a fighter so I fought through it, but it scared me (like all my panic attacks do) and Mark started going to all the appointments after my panic attack.  I should also add that Luke's doctor's office is a complete copy of the high risk OB/GYN that I visited for the first 12 weeks of my pregnancy with Bella.  They are located one floor above Casey Eye.  The waiting rooms, layout, flooring, etc are completely identical.  It's a trigger that causes me to remember those first three ultrasounds where I made the long trek from Vancouver to wait on pins and needles to see if my baby was alive or dead.  A little PTSD is going on for me I think.  So many times Mark is my safety net, and tomorrow he will not be there.  If you think of me tomorrow between noon and three pm. could you say a little prayer for me?  I would appreciate it...and one for Luke too?  It's no fun to have eyes dilated for a procedure, multiple eye drops, pressures checked on your eyes, and then have multiple doctors check you out, because...1) it is a teaching hospital and 2) Luke's type of glaucoma is so rare that everyone wants a peek.  Sometimes it's just not fun!