the dead moms club

Six months. 184 days. 4,416 hours. 264,960 minutes. That's how long mom has been gone.

For some reason, today felt like a significant milestone in this never ending grief journey that's been thrust upon us. I'm an unwilling member of the dead moms club. Most of us end up becoming a member eventually. But I never imagined it would be this soon or under these circumstances.

When I woke up this morning, I was conscious of the date but wasn't focused on its significance. I got up ready to get to work early and tackle my to-do list. I fed Zoey, made myself a healthy smoothie, and read my scriptures.

Then I made the mistake of looking at Instagram before I got into the shower.

surviving my first christmas without mom

2018 will forever be burned in my memory as the year we lost mom too soon. Stuck in the sterile environment of a ghost town ICU. Absorbed by sorrow, disbelief, and horror. Mom slipped away in the wee morning hours mere minutes after the machines turned off. Spencer and Ian made it just in time to say their goodbyes. We each held her hand and told her how much we loved her. And then, just like that, she was gone.

Typing these words over five months after that dreadful day still makes my chest tighten and stomach turn. I'm glad this first holiday season is over. One less first to face in the future.

grief day 98

At my therapy session last week, we focused solely on the passing of my mom and the grieving process that's followed.

About midway through the session I started to breakdown and cry as I relived the harrowing hours we spent in the ICU. Immediately, I tried to stop and quickly brush away the emotions I was feeling. My therapist forced me (in a good way) to sit with it instead.

It was only a minute or two that I lost my composure. But honestly, it sucked. I hated it. I'm usually good at feeling my emotions and processing things but not this. I don't want to feel my mom's death or this new normal I'm living. That makes it real. And I don't want it to be real.

grief day 55

I'm at a stage in the grief process where some of the initial shock has worn off. Most of the adrenaline that's been keeping me going the last two months has also dissipated. Getting up every day and moving forward feels harder right now.

She's not coming back. That's actually starting to sink in.

I've been pushing to navigate life at the same capacity I was before mom died. Almost two months in, I'm realizing that might not be possible for the next little while as I continue to work through my grief and figure out some other major areas of life related to work and family.

365 days of grief

Last week I met with my therapist for the first time since we lost my mom. Most of my session was spent recounting the events of my mom's final week on earth. Much like us, my therapist had no idea that something like this was going to happen. He said that with significant losses like this that you are in a period of grief for at least a year.

365 days and a lifetime without her. That's a hard reality to swallow.

what do you like to do for fun?

Asking someone "What do you like to do for fun?" is a fairly common question. But to be perfectly honest, it's a question that used to terrify me. What do I say? What's the right answer? I don't do anything that's cool. What hobbies do I have? 

Paralyzed by the fear of being judged I didn't know how to answer. I felt trapped in a corner unable to breath every time the question was posed to me. My perfectionist tendencies made me think that I had to "be good" at fun. Whatever the hell I thought that meant.