As many of you know, we are expecting our last planned addition to this family in July 2015.
I don't think anyone is as consumed with this news as Norah Jayne. She is a big excited ball of emotions over her new arrival (which we believe is a sister - we will reconfirm in a few weeks)....
... and she has the best things to say about it!!! I'll try to group our conversations into different categories, as it can be hard to follow the various trains of thought as they don't happen consecutively.
The Cinderella Stage....
One day, Norah looked at me, and said that she really hoped that she would have a baby sister. She said that she has always wanted an evil step-sister... you know, someone who will be mean to her and tell her to do her chores. She is very excited, as she feels an evil step-sister would be a great addition to our family. I mean, she's ALWAYS wanted one... for the four years she has been alive. :)
Norah is very into naming things.... and, when it comes to baby names, that is not an exception. One day, as I was rocking her brother in the chair, she walked up, slowed the rocking, and looked me straight in the eyes.
"Mom, I have the best name for the new baby!!"
"Oh ya, what is it?"
"Lucifer!"
<Face palm, as I immediately thought of the devil.... it took me a minute to make the Cinderella connection... for those who don't know, it's the cat...>
"Norah, we can't name the baby Lucifer."
"Why not?"
"We just can't." Won't... we WON'T! There is no way...
"Well, just think about it.... it is a good name."
"Sure, honey.... " NOT going to happen. EVER.
The Welcoming Stage
"I'm going to be her second mommy! I'm going to feed her and change her diapers and put her to bed and make sure she listens to all the rules!" Smiles all around. :)
"I'm going to be the first one to meet her!! And then, I'm going to bring the grandmas in to see her too, but I'll be the one holding her!"
The Un-Welcoming Stage
"So, I'm not going to be your littlest girl anymore??"
"I don't think we need a new baby. The brothers are too loud already."
The Excited Stage
"I'm going to go shopping and choose out dresses for her!!"
"I LOVE her name!"
"I can't wait for Dr. Chan to take her out of your belly so I can see her!"
"I felt her kicking! Wow!!! It's going to be more like a punch when she is out of your belly!"
The Sad Stage
"Well, if we name her Caroline, then we will still have Caroline!" This one broke my heart.
It's so much fun anticipating a new baby with a daughter who is old enough to understand and be excited with us. She loves the updates and how the belly is growing and knowing that there is someone little inside there who is going to love her like crazy. :)
Such a bittersweet year. It is so wonderful to have a little girl in my life to show me what life is like as a child.... and that your happies can come back from vacation, even if a chunk of your heart is missing. .....
Love you to the moon and back Caroline!
Saturday, 28 February 2015
Tuesday, 24 February 2015
The Grieving Pre-Schooler
Grief is a very complex group of emotions to deal with for anyone. This is an extremely hard post to write, but, unfortunately, right now, I don't have many light moments to share.
While navigating through life without my sister, my children's Auntie Caroline, it has been rough to say the least. A part of it that has been the toughest, yet at times the brightest, is when I'm discussing issues about her death with our daughter.
Not only has she asked quite the interesting questions, both before her death, but also after... and she is a smarty pants, so she knows how to use it for her benefit...
Here's some fun and heart-wrenching stories from the last few months. I do try to keep this blog light-hearted. I do feel that I need to write about these things. I want Norah to be able to read this later. I've been on hiatus since we found out she was ill again. It's been a long few months, but it's time to let everyone back in again. :)
At first, when we explained to Norah that Auntie Caroline was sick, she didn't quite realize the severity of it, as any four-year old likely would not. She started praying for her every day to be healed with a miracle and to be comfortable and happy. She prayed fervently and with her whole heart every day. It was very important to her. With such a dire prognosis, we began the process of explaining that Auntie Caroline was very sick and wouldn't be getting any better - that she would soon die and go to Heaven. Tough times all around......
About a month in, Caroline was hospitalized at Christmastime, and it seemed then that Norah became obsessed with what was happening. I remember vividly, as I handed her the phone, the fear and questions in her eyes.
"Hi. Auntie Caroline??" .... "Are you in the sky now?" ..... "Ok, good. I didn't think you were, because I wouldn't be able to talk to you still if you were...." Cute and funny, but kind of let us know where she was at, and obviously kind of worried about what was to come.
Things progressed quickly, and Auntie Caroline was insistent that she see the kids often. She would pop over just to see them, smiling ear to ear, cuddling them and holding them and telling them how much she loved them. Norah would often pipe up, asking, "So, are you still dying?" and Caroline would just smile, telling her, "Yes, honey, but not right now."
It was at these times that Norah started waking through the night.
"Mom, can you talk?"
"Sure, hon, what's up?"
"Is Auntie Caroline still going to have a head when she dies?"
"Yes, honey."
"For real!?! .... Well, what about her feet? Will she still have feet??"
"I'm not sure... do angels need feet after they get wings??"
"Oh ya! I forgot that she will be flying!"
"Mom, can you talk?"
"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
"Auntie Caroline"
"Ok, what are you thinking?"
"Did you know that, after she dies, I'll still be able to feel her give me hugs and kisses?"
"That's awesome, Norah... she sure is special and she sure does love you. She always will."
"Yep. She IS special!"
The conversations would go on and on...
... and Caroline's cancer kept growing and spreading, no matter what she tried....
Too soon after, we found out that her liver was failing and within a week, our whole world came crashing down. On Monday, when I told Norah that Auntie Caroline would soon be leaving Grandma and Grandpa's house forever, she did not take it well. It was then that she realized that Auntie Caroline would not be getting better. It literally broke my heart to see her realize this.
She looked up at me with unmistakeable anger in her eyes, and a reaction that I did not expect.
"Well, obviously Jesus doesn't give miracles, so I'll just have to become God to give her one."
I told her that we can still pray, but, at this point, it just needs to be for Auntie to be happy. She has refused to pray ever since.
She became desperate and started to reach out for anything that she sees in movies that might help. Magic potions and spells... anything that might work.... (To this day a few weeks later, she still says that if she had only found the magic flower, then Auntie Caroline would still be here....)
On Wednesday, Caroline's last day home before going into hospice, we went over for family dinner. Norah played and kept giving Auntie Caroline a 'play' meal and had a tea party with her as best she could. She just smiled and watched Norah. It was awesome. When the time came to leave, Norah just wouldn't say good-bye. We didn't force the issue. We didn't want to say good-bye either.
The next day, Caroline received a couple pictures with kids via text from me, telling her that we can't wait to see her. On Friday, we called to chat... Norah took the phone and just plainly asks, "Auntie Caroline, WHY are you SICK!?" For the first time, I could tell that Caroline was emotionally tired. "Because my body is failing me." Norah said good-bye and ran off to play... leaving me and Caroline with not much to say. We both knew that she was in pain, and that it wouldn't be long. Tons of love between us, but no cure.. Norah made her a special sign for her door and sent it up to hospice for her door to her room. She was so proud of her sign.
We went up to visit on the Sunday, and Norah entertained her to the best of her ability. It was nice to see her come in and out of the room. Caroline was laughing and showing her how the remote for her bed worked and just enjoying the little bit of loving that a four-year-old can bring. She LOVED seeing her sign on the door. Again, she didn't want to say good-bye.
The next day Auntie Caroline passed away, which is something that I still can't write without tearing up!!! It was just too fast for us, but the timing was perfect for her.... Peaceful and beautiful, as always.
Since then, the emotions that have come out of Norah have been all over the place. It comes down to the fact that four-year-olds grieve similarly to adults. She is going through the stages just like the rest of us.. I've found that it's not predictable where she is at, but it is all happening nonetheless.
When she saw Caroline at the funeral home, she was relieved, as Caroline just looked like she was sleeping. Then, she believed that she would always be able to come visit her at the funeral home. Where she got this idea, I am not sure, but it was a hard one to have her believe otherwise. She refused going to the funeral altogether, which was fine. We had explained what would happen, and she wanted no part of it. She firmly believed that if she didn't come, then it wouldn't happen... but it did.
She still asks where Auntie Caroline is and why she isn't at Grandma and Grandpa's. She can recite the answer, but she still can't believe it. ... I guess it's hard for me to believe sometimes too.
She saw the sign up in Auntie Caroline's room, and I think it really broke her heart. "That's NOT supposed to be here! It's supposed to be for Auntie Caroline's room, WITH HER!" ...
There are so many moments that I have been able to sit and talk with Norah about life and death. We are blessed that we can come back to so many wonderful memories about Auntie Caroline. ....
.. and the kicker is that she is a smarty-pants. When talking to the children's social worker at hospice, she warned me that some children will know how to manipulate situations. .... and Norah thought she might have that one nailed, but we were prepared.... She does pull out her grief in the moments when she knows she is misbehaving. The crocodile tears start and the "I miss my Auntie Caroline" comes out.... we take a moment and talk about Auntie Caroline and how awesome she was and how nice she was... and then Norah still gets her little 'kick in the pants' for whatever she was up to...
... and then we remember some more that life must go on, but we can always smile through our grief and enjoy the memories that we have of Auntie Caroline.
I could literally write conversation after conversation of Norah talking through her grief... maybe I will add to this in the future, but, for now, I'll let it simmer. It's actually been nice to write it out finally.... and I know that Caroline would be happy to see me write again, as she always told me to keep it up cause she loved reading about Norah and the boys (and she told me it was fine to write about her, as well). :)
Miss you, girly!
While navigating through life without my sister, my children's Auntie Caroline, it has been rough to say the least. A part of it that has been the toughest, yet at times the brightest, is when I'm discussing issues about her death with our daughter.
Not only has she asked quite the interesting questions, both before her death, but also after... and she is a smarty pants, so she knows how to use it for her benefit...
Here's some fun and heart-wrenching stories from the last few months. I do try to keep this blog light-hearted. I do feel that I need to write about these things. I want Norah to be able to read this later. I've been on hiatus since we found out she was ill again. It's been a long few months, but it's time to let everyone back in again. :)
At first, when we explained to Norah that Auntie Caroline was sick, she didn't quite realize the severity of it, as any four-year old likely would not. She started praying for her every day to be healed with a miracle and to be comfortable and happy. She prayed fervently and with her whole heart every day. It was very important to her. With such a dire prognosis, we began the process of explaining that Auntie Caroline was very sick and wouldn't be getting any better - that she would soon die and go to Heaven. Tough times all around......
About a month in, Caroline was hospitalized at Christmastime, and it seemed then that Norah became obsessed with what was happening. I remember vividly, as I handed her the phone, the fear and questions in her eyes.
"Hi. Auntie Caroline??" .... "Are you in the sky now?" ..... "Ok, good. I didn't think you were, because I wouldn't be able to talk to you still if you were...." Cute and funny, but kind of let us know where she was at, and obviously kind of worried about what was to come.
Things progressed quickly, and Auntie Caroline was insistent that she see the kids often. She would pop over just to see them, smiling ear to ear, cuddling them and holding them and telling them how much she loved them. Norah would often pipe up, asking, "So, are you still dying?" and Caroline would just smile, telling her, "Yes, honey, but not right now."
It was at these times that Norah started waking through the night.
"Mom, can you talk?"
"Sure, hon, what's up?"
"Is Auntie Caroline still going to have a head when she dies?"
"Yes, honey."
"For real!?! .... Well, what about her feet? Will she still have feet??"
"I'm not sure... do angels need feet after they get wings??"
"Oh ya! I forgot that she will be flying!"
"Mom, can you talk?"
"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
"Auntie Caroline"
"Ok, what are you thinking?"
"Did you know that, after she dies, I'll still be able to feel her give me hugs and kisses?"
"That's awesome, Norah... she sure is special and she sure does love you. She always will."
"Yep. She IS special!"
The conversations would go on and on...
... and Caroline's cancer kept growing and spreading, no matter what she tried....
Too soon after, we found out that her liver was failing and within a week, our whole world came crashing down. On Monday, when I told Norah that Auntie Caroline would soon be leaving Grandma and Grandpa's house forever, she did not take it well. It was then that she realized that Auntie Caroline would not be getting better. It literally broke my heart to see her realize this.
She looked up at me with unmistakeable anger in her eyes, and a reaction that I did not expect.
"Well, obviously Jesus doesn't give miracles, so I'll just have to become God to give her one."
I told her that we can still pray, but, at this point, it just needs to be for Auntie to be happy. She has refused to pray ever since.
She became desperate and started to reach out for anything that she sees in movies that might help. Magic potions and spells... anything that might work.... (To this day a few weeks later, she still says that if she had only found the magic flower, then Auntie Caroline would still be here....)
On Wednesday, Caroline's last day home before going into hospice, we went over for family dinner. Norah played and kept giving Auntie Caroline a 'play' meal and had a tea party with her as best she could. She just smiled and watched Norah. It was awesome. When the time came to leave, Norah just wouldn't say good-bye. We didn't force the issue. We didn't want to say good-bye either.
The next day, Caroline received a couple pictures with kids via text from me, telling her that we can't wait to see her. On Friday, we called to chat... Norah took the phone and just plainly asks, "Auntie Caroline, WHY are you SICK!?" For the first time, I could tell that Caroline was emotionally tired. "Because my body is failing me." Norah said good-bye and ran off to play... leaving me and Caroline with not much to say. We both knew that she was in pain, and that it wouldn't be long. Tons of love between us, but no cure.. Norah made her a special sign for her door and sent it up to hospice for her door to her room. She was so proud of her sign.
We went up to visit on the Sunday, and Norah entertained her to the best of her ability. It was nice to see her come in and out of the room. Caroline was laughing and showing her how the remote for her bed worked and just enjoying the little bit of loving that a four-year-old can bring. She LOVED seeing her sign on the door. Again, she didn't want to say good-bye.
The next day Auntie Caroline passed away, which is something that I still can't write without tearing up!!! It was just too fast for us, but the timing was perfect for her.... Peaceful and beautiful, as always.
Since then, the emotions that have come out of Norah have been all over the place. It comes down to the fact that four-year-olds grieve similarly to adults. She is going through the stages just like the rest of us.. I've found that it's not predictable where she is at, but it is all happening nonetheless.
When she saw Caroline at the funeral home, she was relieved, as Caroline just looked like she was sleeping. Then, she believed that she would always be able to come visit her at the funeral home. Where she got this idea, I am not sure, but it was a hard one to have her believe otherwise. She refused going to the funeral altogether, which was fine. We had explained what would happen, and she wanted no part of it. She firmly believed that if she didn't come, then it wouldn't happen... but it did.
She still asks where Auntie Caroline is and why she isn't at Grandma and Grandpa's. She can recite the answer, but she still can't believe it. ... I guess it's hard for me to believe sometimes too.
She saw the sign up in Auntie Caroline's room, and I think it really broke her heart. "That's NOT supposed to be here! It's supposed to be for Auntie Caroline's room, WITH HER!" ...
There are so many moments that I have been able to sit and talk with Norah about life and death. We are blessed that we can come back to so many wonderful memories about Auntie Caroline. ....
.. and the kicker is that she is a smarty-pants. When talking to the children's social worker at hospice, she warned me that some children will know how to manipulate situations. .... and Norah thought she might have that one nailed, but we were prepared.... She does pull out her grief in the moments when she knows she is misbehaving. The crocodile tears start and the "I miss my Auntie Caroline" comes out.... we take a moment and talk about Auntie Caroline and how awesome she was and how nice she was... and then Norah still gets her little 'kick in the pants' for whatever she was up to...
... and then we remember some more that life must go on, but we can always smile through our grief and enjoy the memories that we have of Auntie Caroline.
I could literally write conversation after conversation of Norah talking through her grief... maybe I will add to this in the future, but, for now, I'll let it simmer. It's actually been nice to write it out finally.... and I know that Caroline would be happy to see me write again, as she always told me to keep it up cause she loved reading about Norah and the boys (and she told me it was fine to write about her, as well). :)
Miss you, girly!
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