There are no words to say to a grieving mother that can release the bonds from the mother of a child. Everything seems empty. The reality that I had from the moment I first held Darrian in my arms, that she would be in my life for as long as I would live – was it. No one dreams that they’re going to lose their child. Why should they? So I did what a mother could. Sure, I could have been better at it. I battled profusely to keep her safe. And yet, I couldn’t save her. I watched her in the hospital and I HATED the fact that I couldn’t bandage her. Not even close. I couldn’t hold her and tell her that it would be okay. No matter how promising I thought the prognosis would be, or convinced myself… she would never go home. My daughter who hadn’t achieved her drivers license yet, hadn’t finished high school yet, would never see her next birthday, and on and on and on, laid there. And just like the moment she was born, being so fragile, she was again. This time though, I couldn’t feed her to keep her going. I couldn’t change her to keep her safe from illness, pain, and discomfort. My baby was gone, and is gone.
I have gone through plenty since December 15th, 2015. The day Darrian Amber died. Although in all honesty, she was probably gone in spirit before then. It was just when her body permitted her to fully be gone. I’ve had some comfort in knowing that pieces of her have been donated to living and functional people who have needed what she had to give. It does not complete me. Don’t get me wrong, I would do it again if I had to. (God, don’t make me have to) We can’t take our parts with us when we go, if we can give them to someone that can help them be who they deserved to be – then do so. Don’t be selfish.
Life is different. I was diagnosed with major depression when I was 13, I lost my mom when I was 14, got pregnant at 19. Had two kids by 22 and married for the second time by 26. Everything – in the “natural” order of things was done differently. Now, later today, my eldest daughter will be moving to Tennessee with her fiance’ of a month for however long. And she’s been homeless well before Darrian went into the hospital. This offers promise… sort of. And as much as a pain in the ass Ashleigh is, it will be hard knowing she’ll be so far gone. (FYI, she’ll turn 20 in two days)
Many of my friends are raising young children. They don’t know what I’m going through. I don’t want them to know how things are. My dad was just recently hospitalized because of the lung disease he has had for at least a year and a half. He has been struggling very hard to breathe even with the smallest efforts that we take for granted. I know his life is not what he wants it to be, not in the quality of it. And the news was especially tough since I’m still reeling after Darrian. I know my dad will pass in the relatively near-ish future. I don’t know how soon, but not like years from now. Not the way we think of life lasting.
Around 4:14 am today, I took Mama Chili out to go potty. I looked up and around me to see big flakes of snow landing on me, on her, and on the ground. It wasn’t a lot, just enough to be beautiful. And for a second I stood there and thought how much I wish Darrian were here to see this. That she would love to see this. As time goes on, I continue to struggle with firsts of various things. The first time I looked at grocery items she liked, or clothes of hers, or laid out her snuggie for the dogs, or felt a touch that couldn’t be explained logically. Everything has just felt so much stronger. I think about her constantly. I don’t look for her anymore, or think if I lock the door she’ll get pissed because she can’t get in. I just know she’s not here anymore. And the more time goes by, the tougher it is to try to not think that she’ll never come back again.
I’ve offered to give everything back, or even everything that we own. Or even give up our apartment just to have her back. I know that none of it makes any difference one way or another. She was cremated and her ashes have been put into the ground. We’re still waiting for her death certificate. It still hasn’t come yet. And I think that part missing, despite her absolutely dreadfully painful absence acknowledged, still makes me feel like she’ll be back. And I know it’s wishful thinking. But she won’t be. And I know I have to make peace with that. I don’t want to. Not whatsoever. She was supposed to be in my custody for longer. She was supposed to be here for me to see, or irritate, or for her to yell at me, or to tell me about her fears, her hopes and dreams. She wanted and I wanted to be and to do for her. And now she’s gone. What’s left for me? I was a mother before I knew myself. And now my husband and I are alone. I’m on social security and am dealing with the death of my youngest daughter. I just don’t know what to do with myself.
For the last two days, I have been obsessing over getting a tattoo. I found the font that Red vs Blue uses to create the memorial words incorporated in the tattoo. And I want Caboose to be looking up, like he was seeing heaven. I told Eric what I wanted, and he came up with an idea that I think is awesome. So maybe I’ll sacrifice a little because it’s pretty much more than I thought of, honestly. It’s really quite self explanatory in my eyes. I know having the tattoo won’t bring her closer to me. It will just be more of her, with me. On me.
I also am having more back pain. It hurts like a son of a bitch. I finally got my Naproxen refilled.. I finally realized I have prescription coverage despite not having medical insurance. So I have been taking that to help with the pain. Unfortunately it’s not enough. And it’s not just in my back, my knees (arthritis) hurt too. I have very little flexibility, or at least it feels like there is something jarring my knee from bending all the way. And when it does, it will just hurt like a son of a bitch.
I’m tired. I know I have things I have to do. Maybe I need more time to just lay in bed and cry. But what purpose would that serve? I suppose I am entitled to feel sorry for myself, but I don’t exactly feel like I’m doing anything when I’m just laying in bed.
I put out the request for the medical papers to be sent to GeneDx to evaluate my genetic testing. Since Brian’s doctor was able to find a gene that causes CPVT, they want to check me too. So I did send out the specimen they asked for. Unfortunately I missed the paperwork and still have to send that out. I feel like an absolute moron, but I will send it out once I know exactly what I need to do with it (aside from sending it). Do the doctors need to fill it out (it looks that way) and do I send it to Brian’s doctors office in Marquette? Or do I send it to GeneDx in Maryland? What do I need to do? And Brian’s wife, Meredith posted on facebook a few days ago that we should not be swimming by ourselves. I know that’s probably good information to have. The more things happen, the more I feel like I’m surrounded by pain, by trauma, by limitations. I am just tired. I’m sick and fucking tired of suffering, all the time. There seems to be little hope. I don’t know what the meds are supposed to do anymore. Do I have situational, seasonal, every day depression? How does any of this medication shit that seems to have impacted my memory – supposed to help me? I don’t feel any better. I don’t feel like I’m functioning better – unless you count getting out of bed and being at the computer… driving from point a to point b or other assorted runs for food, drink, laundry, other necessities that the phone cannot accomplish. I’m tired! I’m so fucking tired!
I want something good to happen right fucking NOW! When is it my turn to relax? When do I get to say, all this amounts to something. Aside from me trying to fool myself. Platitudes and shit. I just want to feel like I’ll be okay. Eric will be okay. I don’t feel it. I’m exhausted. So I’ll probably stop.