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Thursday, February 7, 2013

Sometimes Breathing is Harder Than It Seems



Change. I’ve written about it over and over again. There are all types of change, some good and some bad. Some are inevitable and some are carefully controlled. I don’t care what kind of change it is, if it is happening in my life then I am uncomfortable to the point that I feel weighted down.

I am weighted down due to much change, all self-inflected.  I hinted about it in an earlier entry. Well it’s here and I won’t say I am overwhelmed, but I will say I am so uncomfortable that I just feel blah.

Before Christmas, we decided that we wanted to move. We searched and found what we feel is the place for our family. Good neighborhood, good school (it’s new so the germs haven’t taken hold. I know I’m kidding myself). The yard is big and we will be able to safely watch and play with our kids. It is a home that I think will feel like home. I hope to feel settled. 

All of December we worked to de-clutter our house and organize. By the way, if anyone needs help de-cluttering, I am really good at it. Our goal was to put our house on the market the first week of January. We had already put a down payment on the new digs but the construction was held until we had a contract on our current place. Ninety days was the time frame in my mind. To say I was stressed would just be silly. I was a complete wreck but I think I held it together. 

Our house went on the market on a Friday. No appointments to look. I know this sounds silly but I viewed it as a catastrophic failure. Saturday morning my phone started ringing. For two days it didn’t stop. We were cast out of our home and relied on the generosity of family and friends to entertain two adults, two kids and a Chiweenie. Sunday night we received the first of four offers. Our house sold in two days. (I don’t know how to type a scream, but imagine me screaming). OUR HOUSE SOLD IN TWO DAYS!!! A true blessing, but the beginning of change. Good change, but for me all change is hard and mostly unwelcomed.

In less than a week, we are moving to an apartment. I have nothing against apartments, I’ve lived in a few. I have never had to live in one with kids. I have never had to figure out how to stuff a whole house in a 1200 square foot space. This will take all of my creative skills. We will manage because it is temporary. It will make the new home feel big for sure.

Change.

For the longest time I didn’t realize that I had a problem with change. When it would show up in my life, I either lost weight, cried or felt out of place. I would have to say that within the past ten or so years, I have come to realize that I detest it and I avoid it. Who am I kidding, I can’t avoid it. I do try.
My mom’s diagnosis was the biggest shocking change. Still is. Since then, change means more. Nine times out of ten, it means that it occurred and my mom wasn’t here to see it.
She has missed a lot.

This week I’ve cried. I’ve wondered why because in my mind I have progressed to a point that I don’t have consecutive sad days. 

Now I know.

I am moving. My mom is missing it. I am building a house. My mom is missing it. She has always been there to help pack, put shelf paper in or just make a small space work. My mom is missing it.
On Tuesday, my son lost his first tooth. He pulled it himself. My mom missed it. My mom is missing it all. Really that isn’t true and I just figured that out. My mom isn’t missing a thing. She is where she is and I am where I am. We aren’t together to share. My mom isn’t missing a thing, I am missing my mom.

My son still prays for her at night. He also prays for snacks, games and toys. He says he remembers her. Time will tell. I remember her and I talk about her. I am her voice.

I’m guessing that life without her will never be easy. Every change, every first will remind me that she isn’t here to share. I miss her.

The last month my mom was here wasn’t easy. Ironically, one specific day was very eye-opening to me. We looked alike but we didn’t see it like others did. On this day, she went to the hospital for a scope of some sort. She started having chest pains. My dad called and said he didn’t know where they were but to come find him. I did. I saw my mom sitting in a hospital bed. She had a sad crocheted blue hat on. There was a big tube coming out of her nose with green stuff flowing. She was coughing, she was in distress. She looked at me and said in a very scratchy voice, “don’t come in.” I didn’t. I sat outside listening. Change was happening and all I could do was listen. It was suspected that she was having a heart attack. I knew better. She finally allowed me in but her oxygen level was low. Nurses, doctors, my dad were all beside her. She was coughing, she was dying. Intubation was suggested to help her breathing. Before she could answer, I spoke up and said no. I said, “no, Mom, you are having a panic attack. All you need to do is breathe. So I am going to stand here and we are going to breathe together.” I looked into her eyes, her sad dying eyes. She looked into mine. In that little room, we started to breathe. It helped a little. A nurse walked in looked at my mom and then looked at me. I will never forget her words. “You have your mother’s eyes.” 

I have my mom’s eyes. 

I never saw it until that day. I pushed it away after and then last week I was getting ready for work when suddenly I saw my mom’s eyes. This time they belonged to me.

No I don’t like change and I guess I never will. It’s going to happen and for the most part I won’t be able to stop it. When my mom left, my life changed forever. I won’t get used to it and I will never like it. But now, I think that when I feel low, when I feel like too much is happening, I’m going to look in the mirror. For the rest of my life, when I look at my eyes, I will see her.

Lots of changes in my future. I guess I need to remember to breathe.

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