Life Goes On…

Hello there! Where have you been, friends? Okay, okay. The better question is where have I been?

I’ve been doing the best I can.

The pandemic has been rough on all of us and I am no exception. Just as we were being introduced to Covid-19, my mother’s health challenges intensified. I wasn’t even confident that visiting her in Saginaw was safe until the diagnosis came; Multiple Myeloma. She needed my help to navigate cancer treatments on top of her volatile Type 1 Diabetes.

I was subject to ever changing hospital protocols, doctor appointments, and navigating the medical system. Again. I put on my take-charge, caretaker hat with the insight of a seasoned infertility warrior. Many of you know exactly what I mean. We ask questions that offer insight, follow up with more questions exploring alternatives to proposed action plans, and evaluate the likelihood of success.

My Mom was a trooper through it all; a quiet storm giving Multiple Myeloma a run for its money. She attended my brother’s wedding, which I officiated, June 2020. I relish the photos of us from the beautiful backyard event; each of the ten of us masked and seated at sweetheart tables for two.

By the holidays, my mother’s strength was waning. Her second series of treatments had to be delayed because she just wasn’t strong enough to endure it. We quietly celebrated the arrival of 2021 while her hospital stays became more frequent. My mother ended January in the hospital and met her end before February did.

February 22, 2021 my mother took her place among the ancestors. What has followed has been an unwelcomed invitation to do the things I never wanted to do, telling my mom goodbye and grieving having said it. I’ve learned that grief and all its stages can be an undesirable gift.

Denial protected me from being overwhelmed while taking the lead on funeral planning, anger makes it hard to drive past the nursing home where she caught Covid-19, bargaining made it hard to forgive myself for supporting to decision to go this same nursing home, depression pressured me to seek a place for my pain, and acceptance is still calling me forward through all of this. Infertility taught me the value of support groups. So, it was an easy choice to find an outlet for my grief and the 13-week grief class offered by GriefShare was just what I needed.

Grief does not progress through it’s five stages in a linear pattern; it’s more like waves retreating back and crashing forth. Sharing in that safe circle provided the place to release the feelings I needed to mask in my day to day life. For those few hours each week, I was only a daughter grieving the loss of her mother. Not a wife, sister, friend, teacher, of a wife substitute for my Dad.

I’ve been comforted by knowing that the end of life is not the end of love. I love my mother and she loves me. Still.

I’ve also found comfort in accepting that I will never be the same and the world will have to adjust. I will only give what is available yet I’m so much more compassionate. I recognize that some view grief as something we process with the final arrangements for our loved ones or complete with the realization that we’ve suffered loss. This could not be further from the truth.

We are all grieving. Constantly. We need to normalize grief and its lasting effects. I hope to be a safe place where it’s acceptable to be honest about the task that is too great and emotions that simply don’t have the capacity to weather the storm of conflict and incessant demands. I can hold space for the truth that needs to be told, demands to be told. I will listen to your heart break. I am available for hurt until the healing comes. I’ve been called to grieving hearts.

Tending to grieving hearts is what inspired the Detroit, MI Walk of Hope. I knew there was a purpose in my infertility pain and partnering with RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association has been one the highlights of my life. My Co-Chair, Sue Johnston, and I are hosting the 4^th annual event and finally returning to Tolan Playfield as the pandemic is finally allowing us to. My mother opened the event with a welcome greeting in 2019 and going back is bittersweet. It was important that she was a part of it then as I knew that now was coming. There would be a time when we she would not be able to participate; a time when the walk would outlive her. That time has come.

I’ll be there next week to welcome you with a smiling face and open arms. And if you see me shed a few tears, offer me tissue. Being in the presence of infertility warriors is a safe space where we feel all the feelings and normalize grief.

Where have I been? Walking a new path on this journey to wholeness and healing. Thanks Mom!

HOPE-filled thought: My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever. Psalm 73:26 NLT

Prayer: Thank you Lord, for mothers everywhere. I honor them and pray that my life glorifies Your Name. Continue to lead me to grieve in a healthy way that inspires acceptance and peace and help me to help others find this gift for themselves. I receive it all with the joy that only comes from You. And it so. Amen.