My Millennial Baby

My Millennial Baby

Thirteen years ago, a little bundle of hope, joy and sweetness entered my life. I remember holding you in my arms and feeling more love than I could ever have thought possible. Today, Friday December 13, 2013 you turn 13 years old and I look at you and feel a new kind of love. My love for you has grown so deep over these past thirteen years as I have watched you blossom into this beautiful young lady. I remember September 11, 2001, you were sitting in your high chair as I fed you apple sauce. The images on the tv of planes crashing into the towers as I slipped a spoonful of apple sauce into your little mouth are still scorched in my memory. I remember the conversations at gatherings of war and weapons of mass destruction as you played with toys at my feet. You were so small yet already had such huge responsibility resting on your shoulders. You entered this beautiful world, at the right time, this I am most certain. I remember writing a journal entry after 911, the topics; questions and curiosity. There were so many good people asking thoughtful questions about the why’s and the what’s next and the bigger picture of 911, war, conflict and peace keeping. How could I, a novice, a new Mom ensure that I fostered a sense of wonder, curiosity, reflection and compassion in you? How would I protect you and teach you to think of others, be humble, learn from failure, take risks, dream big and always, always strive. 

I know now, that you my dear girl, you came with these qualities. I have, and I will always do my very best to nurture all of the beauty, talent and love that I see so abundant in you. It is you however who teaches me how to be more compassionate, how to LOL without care, how to dance to music that just begs you to move and how to listen more than I talk. You remind me daily by your own resilience and your humble nature that when I fail, which as a parent I do often, I must get right back out there! You show me, daily, with your hugs at night and smiles when you walk through the door, that your love is unconditional. I want all children and all people to feel such love.  

In the last thirteen years we have seen war’s, natural and man made disasters, political embarrassment in our own Country and many, many others. In thirteen years we have also seen a revolutionary wave of protests, demonstrations and people who have shown us that votes and voices DO count. You my dear child were born at exactly the right time. You bring what this world so desperately needs more of; compassion, love, reflection, wise and sober thought and a true belief that we are all one on this big beautiful earth.  

So on this very special Friday, the thirteenth of December, 2013 I wish you the happiest of birthday’s and I thank you for being who you are. 

Be brave, be fierce, be compassionate, learn from failure, laugh daily,  and be kind to yourself because YOU are one special young lady!

With love and admiration always, 

Mom

Where a book can lead you...

It has been a little over a month since we proudly painted and opened the 'door' to our free little library. We named it Winifred, to honour my Gram who passed away this August. She loved books, stories, theatre and her community. I know she would have loved our little library.

We all love to read in this family; Sandra Boynton, Dr. Seuss, Margaret Atwood, Chris Hedges, ah and my sons favorite, Mr. Robert Munsch and Alligator Baby (I may slip that one in the library, sigh!). The real excitement for this library is the chance to share our love of reading with our community and to have them share their love of reading with us. As soon as it was up I was snapping pictures, tweeting, face-booking and doing everything I could to spread the word. We have neighbours coming by the house to see the library and to drop off books. We met people who live only 6 doors down and yet we had never met until now, we have been here eight years.  A few days ago I came home to find a young girl, about 10 looking through the library. She looked disapoointed. I got out of my car and walked over to her as she was walking away. "Hey, did you find a book", she turned and walked back towards me "no, there was nothing new this week but I will check again in a few days". I learned that she comes every week, usually on a Friday. Sometimes she leaves a book, one that she has journeyed through already and wants to leave for another to enjoy and sometimes she just likes to see what new books have arrived. She even knows how many books are there! 

In late August I bumped into one of my neighbours and she asked me if I felt a free little library was really needed in a neighbourhood like ours. I was speechless. She continued, "don't get me wrong I think it's adorable but do you really think it is needed in a community like Sundance? I wouldn't think kids here need free books".  I was saddened by her comments and assumptions. There is no wrong or right community to share books and to encourage a place where people can gather. This little library has warmed my heart and has helped me connect with my community. 

This little library has done so much more than simply provide a place to share books. It has reinvigorated my love for this community, one that I distanced myself from for some time. Who knows, maybe the neighbour who was a little dubious about Winifred might even take a peak and share a story with me. I am hopeful. 

 "we read to know we are not alone"C.S. Lewis

A room with a view

I lay back on the lazy boy chair next to Gram, with my hand on hers and close my eyes. The chair leans  all the way back and I position it to the same height as Gram's bed, right next to me. I can hear the creek outside of her window, it is peaceful and reassuring. I imagine that it flows beyond where I or anyone on this earth can see, perhaps a path for Gram and others.  Up until a few days ago, Gram would look outside and say, "it's so still, nothing is moving, it's so still". Often there was a breeze and I could see the tall grass in the fields outside swaying gently and the daisies and potentilla would quietly dance with the breeze; to her it was still.  On a clear day if I look west I can see the mountains. It is breathtakingly beautiful. I cannot imagine a more lovely place to transition from this world to beyond. 

It has been a week since Gram was moved here. When we arrived at the hospice the nurse got us all settled and smiled at Gram and said, "welcome home".  For a few days Gram had enough energy to drink a small smoothie in a day and to stay awake long enough to have a conversation. She would smile at the little kids when we brought them in for a visit and then drift back to sleep. With the help of the nurses we could move her into a wheel chair and take her for a walk outside making our way around the creek and through the garden,  we could even sneak a raspberry or saskatoon berry for her. The past two days have left her still, like the stillness she sees outside. She cannot drink anymore and has no energy to open her eyes. She knows we are here, I know that she knows. 

Her breathing has changed, it is heavy and slow. Her color is gone, I have not seen anyone so pale. I notice that her eyes are unable to close completely now. For the past week we have managed to have her off all drugs, she needed nothing but our company, some water and a few sips of smoothie. Over  the past few days we have watched as she grimaces when she is moved, her slight body no longer able to handle this without a little pain relief. The nurses here are tender and caring. They brush her hair, hold her hand and treat her with such kindness. She has said many times this week, "I am fortunate". Today it is I who feels fortunate. The past few weeks, sitting with her has brought my family closer than I could have imagined. We have held each other while the other cries and then switched over, allowing the other to be strong while we each take our turn to feel and to let go. I have had conversations with my mother that I don't know if we would ever have had if not for this time together. I have laughed and cried with my sister as we remember our funny Gram stories. I have watched, first hand, a little frail 87 year old woman fight to stay alive. Her will has amazed even the medical staff. 

I have wondered over the past two days, why are you holding on Gram? Your body is shutting down but still you hang on. Today however I see her surrender. I know that we don't have long before she follows the creeks path beyond. I look out her window today and smile at her room with a view. One of Gram's favourite movies was, A room with a view. My mother and Aunt watched it years ago at Gram's recommendation and said they could hardly stay awake! Now it's my turn.

It is difficult for us to surrender and realize that we cannot control everything. We cannot set a time or predict how the story will end. It seems to go against all that this busy non stop world we live in has taught us. This journey is one that only she can control and maybe not even her? So tonight I have the movie ready to go on my laptop and I will snuggle up beside her and imagine us in Italy and England, along side Lucy Honeychurch. I let go of all expectations, worries and sadness and just be and enjoy our room with a view. 

my hand for your journey...

I don’t know that we can ever really prepare for watching and being with a loved one as they die. I have lost loved ones in my life; my Dad died when I was six, three months later his mother, my Grandma, died. There have been many to go since then but with each passing it brings a different experience; and it seems the older we get the harder it us for us to watch. Perhaps that is only our own mortality and selfishness coming in to play? 

My Gram is leaving this world now in no pain and is at home, surrounded by family and friends and wrapped in love. She is 87 years old and has lead a full and fascinating life. She is one of the strongest women I know. I have never heard the word regret leave her mouth. She has lived with intention, meaning, kindness and joy. She was a life long learner. Gram was an RN and up until a month ago or so she would tell you she still was a nurse (that was before she'd tell you to bugger off and stop tending to her); and, I love this one, she became a fitness instructor in her fifties! She used to drag us to her classes and we couldn't keep up! She is a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend and our Gram. 

I remember all of the joy and know she is in no pain, yet tonight,  I feel such sadness and helplessness as I sit at her bedside. 

My Mom called four days ago and with a shaky voice said, “I think her time is coming Eryn, things are changing”. I arrived at Gram’s care home the next day to find her curled up in her bed, looking more pale than I had ever seen and so very fragile; I was hesitant when I bent down to hug her afraid I may literally break her but so wanting to just touch her. She weighs about 90lbs now and her skin is changing by the day. Her cheeks have begun to cave in and her eyes droop when they are open. 

Doctors and staff have been preparing us for this for many months. Gram is in stage five kidney failure and we knew this day would come. Her body is shutting down. Her blood pressure is down to 75/30 at times, she drinks very little, eats nothing and has not been out of bed in four days other than to go to the bathroom. Now, that is a wonder to watch. She can barley move in bed and is asleep most of the time but still has this will and determination to get up and go to the bathroom on her own. My Mom and I tried to get her to use her walker yesterday to help with the short distance to the bathroom (about 6 feet from her room) and she pushed it away saying “oh fiddleydee to that”! Why would I think that her independence and stubbornness would change now?

We had hoped to have a palliative caregiver here with us for these last days but alas, there are no staff to be found due to ‘cuts’ and this being a long weekend. Strangely, I am grateful for that right now as our family takes shifts and I am here with her, maybe the way it is meant to be right now. The staff here at her supportive care home have been empathetic, compassionate, knowledgeable and truly outstanding. They have honoured our wish to keep her here in what has become her home since January and a place she now loves and feels comfortable and safe in. Pictures of her family surround her and she rests in her own bed, with a blue blanket with pink ties, made by my Great Grandma, gently around her little body, wrapping her in memories and love. 

The RN has been up to sit with us and tell us what to expect and sure enough, we now watch it happen. It is not her dying that has me feeling such heaviness in my heart tonight, I know it is her time and I know she is ok. It is this helplessness that I feel as I watch her. We can help with any discomfort but I cannot help her let go. Her body is dying but her mind seems to be moving in and out of two worlds right now and I cannot help her with that. 

My Uncle, her son, comes tomorrow and I wonder if this is what she waits for? She has some dementia so it is difficult to know how aware she is right now. We explain what is happening to her body and she says, “really”? I take comfort in the words of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, who said,  “I say to people who care for people who are dying, if you really love that person and want to help them, be with them when their end comes close. Sit with them - you don't even have to talk. You don't have to do anything but really be there with them”.

So we sit and play her favorite church hymns quietly in the background letting her know that we are here, with her until the end. 

It's not just about being happy...

I zipped up my suitcase and lugged the 54 lbs sucker (full of text books) downstairs and looked at it with some dismay. I had mixed feelings about heading back to Victoria for my second residency.  My seven year old daughter was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a frown on her face, "Mommy, I am going to need a picture of you cause you are gone so much now and I might forget you!" Indeed, the mommy guilt set in and I  felt torn for being a 'busy working mommy'. I started a new job 4 months ago, which has required some travel, I am in my second year of a Master's program (this is what takes me away for 2 weeks), I am trying my best to be a good Mom to 4 small humans and well all of the other wonderful things that I get to be a part of. 

So, back to the Mommy guilt;  it went away when I reminded my lovely little lady why I am doing all of these things. I thought back to what a mentor said to me years ago...it went something like this; "parents have it wrong, we all hope that our children will be happy, no matter what but really, if we are to solve the challenging problems of our time then what we must nurture in our children is the ability to think critically, feel deeply and act wisely. Tough decision will not always make us happy although they may be what is necessary". 

This made a lot more sense to me then... I just want my kids to be happy... My best leanings continue to come out of situations that often did not make me happy at the time but I was where I was meant to be at that time.   

In seven year old language I told her; "I love you kids so much and I am so lucky to be your Mom. I also love working with other people who may need my help and who teach Mommy new things everyday. When we learn and share with others we get better at making our world a kinder safer place.  Mommy goes away sometimes so that I can come back having learned and experienced new things so that I can then share with you kids and with others. The world is about so much more than what goes on in this house kiddo. Be happy for Mom and know that I will miss you too!". 

She looked up and said, "hmmm, ok then". I don't know how much of what I said sunk in but it certainly reminded me that, 

“You are here for a purpose. There is no duplicate of you in the whole wide world. There never has been, there never will be. You were brought here now to fill a certain need. Take time to think that over.” Lou Austin