Life at the Groce(ry)

Well, tomorrow I return to work. This weekend was very difficult for me. I just don’t know how it will be to return to a place in my life where things haven’t really changed. Everything else in my life is different now. I am trying to find my new “normal.”

I hope that it won’t take me too long to adjust back into my work life. I expect that my approach to work might be a bit different now. Major life events tend to change a person’s perspective. I hope to be kinder, more of a “big picture” person, not get swept up in things that really aren’t a big deal in the grand scheme. I want to do (or continue to do) well in my position while I’m there – and then be able to leave it there when I go home at night. I have some great friends/co-workers there who (I hope) will help me through this last transition “back-to-life.”

I have struggled over these past 8 weeks because my life was the only one that hadn’t yet returned to some sort of normalcy. I was not used to being a stay-at-home mom. It is my dream job and now I have to let it go again and it really hurts. Ezra hasn’t left my side since I came home. I hope he will do alright with me going back to work. Chloe and Dylan have loved it, too, and I know they will miss me. I will miss having breakfast with them, playing outside, having lunch with them, tucking them in for naps and cuddling with them after they get up from naps. My time with them will be shortened and it makes me angry. I guess I’ll just have to get over it – again.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

As I was putting Chloe to bed last night she started to get a little upset. I asked what was wrong and she said “I just really miss Felix.” I told her that I did too and that it was okay to be sad. And it’s okay to cry. She asked again if we would all see Felix in Heaven someday and I said yes. Then she asked if we would all die at the same time. I told her probably not but that we never know when it will happen – just like with Felix. She then asked “But you told me that day you were wearing the red shirt and a ponytail. How did you know?” That blew me away. I could not believe (even though it’s only been 2 months – a long time for a preschooler) that she remembered what I looked like when we told her that her brother had died. Then she asked if he was in the white box we sat next to on the green carpet (describing his funeral). She seemed so disconnected from what was happening that day that I didn’t think she would remember it. She continues to amaze me. We talked about her questions and I told her that anytime she wanted to talk, her Daddy and I would be there.

My family and I went on a wonderful 11-day vacation. It was great to get away. Although you never really “get away” from your feelings. Anyway, we went to Gatlinburg with my parents, sister, brother and sister-in-law. Then we suprised the kids with a trip to Walt Disney World. We had the greatest time. We had purchased a 4-seat stroller that we took with us. It started getting a little old hearing “Did you lose one?” There were a couple of “cast members” who were genuinely concerned that one had “jumped ship” so we had to tell them that one had passed away. They felt awful.

One day at Epcot we decided to grab some dinner for the kids. Brian wanted to get something from the UK at World Showcase, so I told him to go ahead while the kids were eating and I sat down on a bench. I started talking to a couple who sat down shortly after I did. They were from Delaware and were big Colts fans. They had been part of a show at one of the countries earlier that day, the wife was wearing a button from it. Another couple walking by noticed her button and stopped to ask her what part she had played and that wife had been the same character. So, having the large stroller and all those cute kids, the other couple struck up a conversation with me. They were from New Jersey. That wife asked about the empty seat and for some reason I told her that we had a son who passed away. They asked how long it had been and then were worried that I had done all that walking in the heat so soon after giving birth. I told them all that I had been fine. Anyway, it turns out that the New Jersey wife (I really wish I had asked their names) and her husband had lost a 19-year-old son in 1993. We cried together and she gave me lots of encouragement and advice. She said “it’s not a club anyone wants to join, but it’s good to know there are others who’ve been through it, too.” She is so right. There are so many things she said that were thoughts out of my own head. It was amazing. I am so glad that God placed all of them in our path at the “Happiest Place on Earth.”

I thought I should try to post again. I’m not really sure where this is going, but here we go…

For about the last week I have been pretty steady emotionally. Well, actually it seems that I just haven’t been emotional. I thought I was doing pretty well. Then the tears came back today. We got a CD of Felix’s pictures in the mail. I looked at them tonight. That went alright because they are pictures we have prints of that I’ve looked at over and over again. But I was checking up on some friends’ blogs and saw pictures of little kids and I got choked up. Also I was watching a re-run of John & Kate plus 8 when the twins were celebrating their birthday. It just reminded me that we will never get to do that with Felix. It hurt. One tradition I’ve made with the kids is making their 1st birthday cake myself. (Chloe: butterfly, Dylan: Cookie Monster, Ezra: dinosaur) For Felix, I made a flower arrangement for his funeral.

I guess this is one of those times that will come along when the thoughts and emotions will sneak up on me. (or maybe my hormones are shifting again) I’ll probably get a little teary as we drive into the Smoky Mountains next week, too. That is one place we love to go and he’ll never get to see it. Never… he’ll never get to see his siblings or pick dandelions or spill his milk on the floor. I’ll never get to read him a bedtime story or give him a bath or give him “eskimo” kisses.

All of the “nevers” are almost unbearable.

We got Felix’s death certificate in the mail yesterday. I expected to cry when it came… but I didn’t. I haven’t decided yet whether that is good or bad. I mean, I had been anticipating it’s arrival any day but I thought that getting it would be another stab in the heart. It looked so much like “paperwork” that maybe that’s why it didn’t get to me. It isn’t “pretty” like a birth certificate.

I wonder if this is the beginning of “moving on.” I haven’t been as down the last few days as I had been. Maybe it’s more of an ebb and flow kind of experience. Some days fine and others hard. I guess we’ll see.

I was sitting here thinking about how Chloe has been dealing with all of this. She has said some amazing things for being only 4 years old. The day we found out that Felix died, Brian and I weren’t sure how to explain to her what had happened or what would be happening. So, we sat down with her and told her in the simplest way we could. She had some great questions. She also decided to talk to “Baby F” before we left for the hospital. She told him that she loved him and that she was sad that she wouldn’t see him but that she would meet him in Heaven someday. That night she made each of our parents come in to pray with her, separately, before she went to bed since I wasn’t there. Brian’s mom prayed for Felix and Chloe interrupted her saying, “Grandma, you don’t need to pray for baby F because he’s already with God.” Unbelievable. She has since asked God to keep taking care of Felix until we meet him in Heaven. She’s also asked me about what we will look like when we get to Heaven and if we’ll have to use the potty when we’re there. (remember, she is only 4 – these things are important) She’s said a bunch of other stuff, too, but it’s getting late and now I can’t remember a lot of it. I should’ve started writing everything down.

I hope that we can help her process what has happened, and continue to help her as she gets older. We’ll also have to explain it to Dylan and Ezra (and any others who may follow) someday, too. We’ll have to tell them about the hole in the Groce family alphabet.

We got a letter in the mail today from my Papa J. It is the most precious response I have received. I know I will come to treasure it more and more as time passes. (better than any greeting card that’s been written – and we got some good ones.) I have come to love and appreciate him more the older I get. He is a brilliant man, and tells the best jokes. I hope we can visit him soon.

I washed Felix’s clothes that he wore in the hospital this week. I still can’t believe how small he was. But long for that age, I think. (13 inches) Anyway, Brian and I had wanted to play this song at his funeral but didn’t. I thought I would share it here.

Give us faith to be strong
Father, we are so weak
Our bodies are fragile and weary
As we stagger and stumble to walk where you lead
Give us faith to be strong

-Andrew Peterson, Faith to Be Strong

(Warning, this may be a little unsettling for some – not the “me” everyone is used to)

This is my first post to my blog as it stands now. I imagine the tone will be a bit dark for a while… sad at times, silent at others, and maybe helpful in some strange way. I’m not sure that I like the idea of blogging through this time of my life, but I can’t think of anything else to do. I don’t really feel like talking.

My son, Felix David, died 10 days ago (stillborn at 24 weeks). I am angry, confused, tired, and heartbroken. (those words don’t seem quite strong enough) He was beautiful. He had a little hair already and big feet. His fingers were long and looked like mine. His face was like Dylan’s with Chloe’s nose. Maybe Ezra’s cheeks. What a combo. It was a strange moment, realizing he had been born yet the room was so silent, so still. No lullaby played over the hospital sound-system. No laughter or congratulations. Just still. I held him a lot. Held his hand, kissed his head. Talked to him and said his name. Made sure he was wrapped up tight. Brian and I prayed for him before the nurse wheeled him out of our lives the next evening.

I never expected to have to bury my 4th child at the “ripe-old” age of 29. His funeral was kind of a blur, like my wedding. I know I was there and I heard what was going on, but it flew by and was over before I knew it. Then I had had to leave him, for a second time. (I thought leaving him at the hospital was difficult) I didn’t talk to or look at anyone after I stood and walked away from him. If you were there, I’m sorry. I just needed to make it to the van before I collapsed, weeping.

I’m trying to still be Mommy for my other darlings. It’s been hard the last 3 days. Before the funeral it seemed like it would be okay, almost manageable to get on with life. Then came the weekend from Hell. I ended up back in the hospital because I got sick and fainted twice. (BP of 83/25 doesn’t quite get you through the day) I am making myself eat so I don’t end up in there for a third time in 3 weeks. I left my bracelet on as a reminder to drink water. Now I just wish I could sleep.

I do need to say that our family and friends have been an amazing support to us. Feeding us, taking the kids for a little while so we can (try to) rest. All the logistics have been taken care of. Now comes the long road of trying to work this event into our lives and keep moving.