GPA

My name is Cindy Hansen and Im a "Grieving Parent."

Sometimes I feel like I am/ should should be in "AA" grievance style, "Grieving Parents Anonymous." It's something we will carry forever. We lost our son. Pretty powerful words. 

You know in movies, particularly kid movies, where the main character is faced up against a tough decision and is visited by an angel on one shoulder and a little red devil on the other? That's what I feel like is going on in my head. A constant ongoing battle. Always. 

The little red devil is say, "You can't do this. How on earth can your survive without Atticus? How on earth can you forget that YOU felt his heart stop beating. YOUR hand was on his bare chest. YOU felt the coldness settle in. YOU heard is last rattling congested breaths. How on earth can you forget him seizing in your arms. Being told he was going to die in the ER. How on earth can you get over your heart ripping into a million tiny pieces every time you see a picture of him. How? How? How...?"

The little angel is saying, "You CAN do this. Of course your hearts aches. You LOVED. Of course your brought to tears every time you look at his picture, you loved. He will ALWAYS be yours. That sweet baby of yours is happy. He is out of pain and anxiously waiting to see you too. Of course you can do this because Heavenly Father will never abandon you. You had the tender mercy of loving your child to the very last second. You had the blessing of holding him and comforting him a way that only a mommy can do. YOU can do this."

Some days are better than others, but I know I can. It's just the hardest thing I have ever and will ever do. It's like I have two lives. The life where I completely avoid and the life where I "lost Atticus."  Atticus had two lives too. Life without cancer and life with cancer. They don't mix. It's better that they don't, emotionally speaking. At least for now.

Tears are streaming down my face as I write this. Im a sobbing mess. I miss him. SO much. What I wouldn't give to hold that sweet boy. To kiss him. To hold his hand. To watch him make my favorite "fishy-face." To hear his contagious giggle. To hear him say, "Sure love ya!" To tell him Im sorry for the mistakes I made. Im sorry that he had to suffer but so proud of him for being the "brave soul." That as hard as I tried to be strong for him, in the end, it was him who was strong for me. What I wouldn't give to tell him I love him one more time.

Oh Atticus, I miss you. I really really do.  I miss you so much my head is spinning. I don't know what to do without you. How to be a mom without you. But as much as I don't want to, I will try. I will try for your brother and for your daddy. I will try to put one foot in front of the other. I will try for you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

I have got to get a grip. This is ridiculous. It is 2:57am and Im a bawling mess. 

~~~~~

Ok. Back on track.

Trying means venturing out and going out of my comfort zone. Risking being asked questions and exposing myself to the raw emotions. Trying, means facing those raw emotions head on and it hurts.  For instance, I was grocery shopping, something I hadn't done for at least a month. Probably two. Family always did that for us... so don't go worrying that our kids starved:). Anyway, I was at Walmart going down the water bottle aisle and my heart started racing, my face started getting hot and I immediately started to cry, "What is that sound?" I thought. I looked around, tried to get my tears under control, and found the source of the anxiety. It was the water jug refill machine... it sounds identical to Atticus' IV pump in the hospital. I have never left a store so fast in my life.

I can't go to Target without getting emotional or crying. Atticus loved target and LOOOVED their basketball shorts and toy aisle. I have to completely avoid the children's clothing and toys.

I now hate the sound of firetrucks and ambulances (sorry Sunnyvale firefighters and EMT's, still love you all). Every time I hear sirens or see an ambulance pass me with flashing lights, I get a pit in my stomach and on occasion, burst in to tears, remembering the night Atticus had his seizures and later being told he would most likely die. Sending the text to our families to "Get here ASAP." One particular time I was on the freeway and had to pull over I was crying so hard. Thankfully Isaac was not with me.

Church is a bitter sweet. I of course want to be there and love going to church, but our way of "surviving" is basically avoiding. We push thoughts of Atticus out of our head, not because we don't love him, because let me tell you, there has never been a kid more loved than him, but because we loved him so much and miss him so much, we are attacked with such intense emotions we don't know how to handle them. Monday through Saturday that methods seems to work pretty good, avoidance... (yes we are going to therapy and yes we realize that this is probably not the most healthy way to deal with it). Sunday is dooms day. I know in time I will find it a place of peace but as of now, I get anxiety driving there, remembering how nauseous I was driving there the day of his funeral. As I walk in the chapel, I can't help but picture his casket. In the Relief Society room, the classroom where the women meet and have a lesson, I can't help but remember that this is the last place I was able to kiss my child. The place where I said my final goodbye to his mortal body. The place where I literally almost lost it. The place where I truly felt like my life had ended. I watch Atticus' friends and think, "I don't love my child any less than they love their. Why did I have to loose mine?" Not that I would want this to happen to anyone ever... it's just hard watching cute Noah and Emery. 

When Atticus was in the PICU and we knew he was going to live, I remember in one of my posts saying that we, "had a taste of death and it is very very bitter." I was right. This is our bitter reality.

Just for the record, as Im sure it may seem like my faith is waivering, it is not. I KNOW that my Redeemer lives. I KNOW that I will see my sweet Atticus again. I know that somehow and although I don't know how yet, the atonement of our Savior will help me find peace. I know that we have not been left comfortless. I KNOW that my sweet 4 year old was a true missionary of the Lord. I know that  if I gave up, turned against the church or got angry with the Lord, I would be diminishing the importance and purity of Atticus' mission. That although this is ridiculously hard, we can and will get through this. Because of the Lord. Because of His mercy. And because of our knowledge that "Families can be together forever." 

This has been eye opening, as far as my personal testimony goes. It has intensified my beliefs and love of the gospel but also made me realize that I am not nourishing my personal testimony. It seems like I am willing to pour my heart out to anyone who is willing to listen to me except the Lord. And I need to change that. We are great at blessing our food, having family prayer at night, and having prayer with Isaac before bed, but I am totally lacking in my personal effort while conversing with the Lord. I need to pray to Him as though I was talking to a dear friend. Because He is. Truth be told, it's pure laziness. It takes effort to verbally pray rather than pray silently. It takes effort to really think about what I am grateful for and what things I need comfort in. But I can honestly say, that when I verbally pray and put forth effort, I have never gone wrong and never left a prayer without peace in my heart. I also need to get back on track with reading the scriptures. Even though I don't always understand what's going on, I always am glad I read. My goal this week is to read one, just one scripture every day this week. 

I can see how loss, especially the loss of a child could be a testimony breaker. It's tough. But for me, it creates a new type of urgency. I don't want to do anything that will jeapordize seeing Atticus again. I want Isaac to see that when given a tough road to travel, it is Heavenly Father and His gospel that will see you through. 

~~~~~

Becky (mom-in-law) left Sunday night so today (Monday) was my first day of my "new life." It went better than I had anticipated. I only had two panic attacks and only cried twice. Isaac and I went grocery shopping. We played outside: swings, bubbles, checked the mail. I made dinner... I did it. I made it through my first day. I had hard moments. Tender moments. "Isaac is the best kid ever" moments. And, "This feels really weird and unnatural" moments. We're back to one child and it is really bizarre. But I did it. 

We see our grievance therapist tomorrow, well, I guess it's today now, and Im glad. I think she is going to be really helpful. 

~~~~~

Miss you sweet boy. I love you.