Quick parenting adivce

As Todd and I were discussing the other night at Chipotle' (yeah, I know, a hotspot for philosophical discourse), due to unforseen things, parents can only really promise their child's "now". It's not possible to promise them a future, really. I don't mean that you stop planning, stop promising your child that "I'll always love you, always watch over you", because they need that. They need the confidence that you're there. What I mean is that as a parent, you should fully embrace the present. It's a cliche' to "live in the now", but I really understand it now. It's sad that it took such a tragedy to really understand it. And it's not like I didn't hold them precious, or pay attention to them, I did, but maybe I would have paid more attention or something. Maybe I would have been less frustrated with them when they were misbehaving, since, really, they're only being who they are anyway. Maybe I could even have treasured their naughtiness.

My most peaceful momemt before the accident

Let me tell you about the times I was most peaceful in my entire life. These times were usually in the morning when it was my turn to get up with the kids. I would lay on the couch on my side, and Ani would curl up behind my knees, and Nate would sit on top of my hip or ribs, and we would have a blanket over us and we would watch TV. I have never felt so at peace, at home, in my sweet spot, whatever you want to say. The same thing goes for when you rock a baby to sleep. Their look of total trust in you is so powerful.

Yeah, oboe solos

Or is it "soloes"? :) Anyway, Christy mentioned this on the caring bridge site. I'm just a sucker for oboe solos. A few rehearsals ago there was a piece we were playing and here's this absolutely beautiful oboe solo that soared above the band (which is unusual in our band, since most everybody plays a volume step above the printed dynamics) and it just touched my heart. There are things like that where I am moved, though perhaps not as deeply as when things happen within my family, but pretty deeply anyway. We were watching "Across the universe" the other night, and since the Beatles are my favorite band ever, it was really pretty cool to watch and hear. I've heard all the songs at least a couple hundred times (well, maybe not "I've just seen a face", but I've heard that one a few times) and it was really cool to hear the different harmonies. There were different harmonies/chords that really brought out parts of the song that made a difference to telling the story and that touched me. It was also pretty cool to see Prudence coming in through the bathroom window (you Beatles fans should know this one). There were other visual clues, like Jude cutting the green apple, that were cool.

A new prayer of mine

I pray that someday I can rejoice in where Nate is now, rather than be so sad over where Nate is _not_ now.  I can't imagine how bright and shining his smile is now.  Or how sparkly his eyes are.  Those were truly part of his namesake, "Gift of God".  It's just so hard that our gift was here for only a short time.  I don't believe that God sent the tornado to "take him back", but I believe God took him back right away after the tornado hit him.

Part of my pain...

I think maybe part of my pain over the loss of Nate is that it feels like I'm not doing my duty to take care of him.  I still find myself planning parts of my day in my head to take care of him, get him up from his nap, etc.  All I ever wanted to do is to serve Christy, Ani and Nate.  Now I can't serve Nate.  Nate's in a place where he doesn't need serving, but that doesn't help me when I can't do anything for him.  Oh, my son, I miss you.

Feeding Ani's mind and development...

I need to try and come up with my own strategy of keeping Ani's mind vibrant and active, because I know it's working to some higher level than just responding to funny sounds. She seems to really react well to humor, so maybe I'll try and mix some teaching (keep up with the ABCs and numbers) with humor. I'm also going to try and mix up some stuff that she can just think about in her head, without the need for physicality. She used to love to realize that things rhymed, maybe I'll try and teach her to compose poetry in her head? Stuff like that.

What Ani did last night

So, I get home and Ani is already in bed, though she's still awake. She's not fussing, but still awake. I go in to say goodnight and say my "nite-nite prayer" over her, ask her if she stayed awake to wait for me. She's on her left side, and I lean in over her right shoulder and tell her my nite-nite prayer and I love her. She's breathing slowly and evenly and easy, her eyes are craned to the right to point at me, and then I feel her hand come up and touch my chest. I take hold of it and put my finger in her palm. She squeezes my finger firmly. She's still not fussing, her breathing is still in its slow easy rythm. She still has her eyes on me, though we still don't know if she can see, or if she can how much she can see. I tell her that she's holding my hand and she loves me too. I tell her again that I love her and that she's safe now, and we're watching over her. I've seen her bring her hands up, but pretty much when she's fussing or grunting. Did she do it this time on purpose? I really want to think so because it was so completely situationally appropriate. I'm going to take it as an intentional action and hold it close to my heart. It is literally the closest thing she's done to saying "I love you daddy" since the accident. I pray it's a sign for the future.

Also on the light side...

I think I can probably recite "Finding Nemo" all the way through.  Ani really likes it, she vocalizes  and laughs and smiles through it all.

On the light side

(pun intended)

On the light side, I played the Xbox 360 game "Star Wars: The Force Unleashed" and finished it.  It was pretty fun, and it provided hours of diversion for my mind.

Hard week

This has been a hard week.  First, finding out about Ani's seizures, then her tube procedure and how uncomfortable (and urpy) she's been since.  Christy was pretty down on Weds and it's kinda kept going with me since then.  My girl is so beautiful, it's hard to accept an invisible injury.  Sometimes I'm afraid what will happen to my faith if Ani is not healed per our prayers.  It's not like I'm praying for a DVD player or something, and I understand that sometimes the answer is either "No" or "Not now".  But how can I not hope for so much more for my child?  I want her to grow and change and learn, and I pray for that all the time.  Seeing her uncomfortable and hearing her cry when she gets a tummy bubble is just exhausting, physically, emotional and spiritually.  I'll get through, it's just not an easy or enjoyable ride.  It really is a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of thing now.

I do see things in Ani now and then that give me excitement and hope, but sometimes it's hard to hold on to the good things, and easy to fixate on the bad things.  I grieve not only for Nate every day, but also for Ani's loss of capabilities.

Ok, Da-da

Nate and I used to play a game (I played it with Ani too, in the past) to teach him about emotions.  I would make a face (sad/scared/happy/excited/surprised).  Nate started to understand, and when I would do the "Daddy sad" face, he would come over and stroke my head and say "Ok, Da-da" until I said "Daddy happy!".  Then he would smile.  I could use a little "Ok, Da-da" right now.  I have found a place inside me that I think is a God-given center of peace, though sometimes it's hard to find.  I have named this place my "Ok, Da-da" place.  Over the last week, it's been quite hard to find it, I have been sad over Nate and Ani.  God grant me more ability to find this place and to calm myself and send my prayers there.  Funny, I've also made a couple "slips of the mind" and said "Daddy" to God, I've just gone with it.  I want a heavenly Daddy to make things better.  It makes me feel better, even at my age, to allow myself to feel that there's a Daddy still looking over me.

My second saddest day

I think that the second saddest day of my life will be on or around Dec. 9th 2011, even though it's my wife's birthday.  That will be near the day that Nate will have been gone from this earth than the time we were blessed to have known him on this earth.

I miss you my little boy.  Daddy's crying because he can't see or hold or kiss you.  He's also crying because of what happened to your sister.  I love you my beautiful little boy.  Hug, kiss.

How much time?

There are times where I feel guilty that I'm not thinking about Nate or Ani.  It's as if a fixation on Ani's condition in my mind will somehow cure her.  I pray all the time, but not constantly.  I need to focus on driving, working, and caring for Ani.  It's so hard to allow myself some time to just be me.  Of course, the me that's me now is different than the me before May 25th, and I want to be that person again.  It's difficult to figure out who to be.

How sweet the sound

How sweet the sound of the words "Da-da" or "Daddy". How painful is the absence of them. I can still hear Nate's voice say "Da-da" in my head, and I need to watch the video to remember the sound Ani's voice saying "Daddy". How my heart will soar when I hear "Daddy" from Ani again. How could I never have known before the birth of Ani that I was meant to be a "Daddy"? How was this never revealed to me?

Sometimes I fib a little

Sometimes I tell Ani that I'm crying for Nate when I'm crying for her.

If only tears...

If only tears,
If only regrets,
If only heartache,
If only fear,
If only memories,
If only tears, my son, you would be back a thousand times.

How do I put it into words?

It's nearly 5 months since I've held my son. Such a simple act, but such a profound loss. It's been nearly 5 months since I've heard Ani sing or really talk to me. Seems like an eternity.

Feedback fuels me

I've become "addicted" to the caringbridge site guestbook.  It keeps me going to read the comments.  Can you readers do the same here?  When I get down, these comments keep me going.

Where's my Nate?

I was washing dishes tonight, and before I knew it, I started looking around for Nate.  It was several seconds before I could stop myself.  I miss him so much.

Ani's response to me tonight

When I was telling Ani her nite-nite prayer, I finished and told her that I loved her forever and ever.  She vocalized.  She made the same sound that she's made before when I told her that I loved her.  So, I told her that "Yes dear, I know that you're saying you love me too, thank you".  She smiled.  Also, I told her that she should never give up trying to talk to me.  Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do it, even a little voice in your head saying "I can't do it".  "You tell that little voice to shut up, because you are brave.  Annika is brave.  I think you're brave, mommy thinks you're brave, Auntie Sue thinks you're brave, and God thinks you're brave".  As I was telling her this, she got this really big, open mouthed smile that lasted past the "God thinks you're brave".  I SO WANT to believe that she's processing so much of this, and that she's just TEMPORARILY stuck in this body that doesn't want to behave.  Yeah, I know that temporarily might mean many months more, but I have this problem where my human weaknesses get in the way of me holding on to hope sometimes.  I want to believe, but my own little voice of "what if she doesn't" comes to me.  Maybe I should use the words I tell Ani to tell myself.  However, I'm not sure I'm brave.  I get so sad and weak sometimes that it's almost paralyzing.  It only lasts a few minutes, then I can pull myself together.  But it's so very hard.

How do I look at the world now?

I've always tried to maintain a child-like (not childish) curiosity about the world. That got me into my astrophysics degree, and probably some trouble as a child. Anyway, I feel isolated now in some ways. The world certainly doesn't look like it did before. I'ts almost like I've lost _my_ child eyes when I lost my children's eyes. After having kids, it enhanced and enriched my own perspective on the world. When Ani told me she loved the snow, and didn't I love it too, I said that I like to use the word "love" when referring to people. She replied "You can love the snow daddy, it's a 'snow love'!". How can I argue with that? I gave in, yes I can love the snow with a snow love. Now, in ways, I feel isolated from Ani (and certainly Nate, of course) because she can't tell me about her perspective. I really want her to tell me that there's a "rain love", or a "christmas lights love" or something like that. Maybe I'll get my child-like perspective back; maybe then the colors of this world will be vibrant again, the autum trees will be more alive, and a simple rain will touch me deeply again.