September

September...football...the onset of fall weather...the beginning of hoodie season...evening firepit...the start of pumpkin-flavored everything...  This year, September has a new meaning for me...September is childhood cancer awareness month.  This has slipped by me in the past.  Sure, I knew October was breast cancer awareness month.  The NFL teams (and refs) wear pink, it's all over the Internet and media.  It's hard to miss.  And breast cancer awareness IS important.  Breast cancer can be very treatable, and can be detected early, thus awareness should be promoted.

Now, however, childhood cancer awareness is even more important to me.  It's something that I, an educated adult who works with children every day, hardly even thought of before it became personal.  And how many other "old me's" are out there?  People that have heard of someone whose life has been touched by childhood cancer, but otherwise thinks little of it?

We SHOULD be thinking about childhood cancer.  When a child is diagnosed with cancer, they are typically treated with methods that are 20+ years old, and were developed to treat adults.  These children suffer horrible side effects from the treatments, and these treatments can cause life-long problems (assuming the treatment is effective.)  And when a child is diagnosed, it turns the lives of that child's whole family upside-down.  Moms and dads become more educated in medical terminology than they ever thought possible.  Siblings have to learn to deal with having a sick sibling, and having emotionally and often physically absent parents.  Not because they choose to, but because cancer invaded their family.  Children diagnosed with cancer may face developmental delays, missed school, and multiple long-term hospitalizations.

In some ways, my family is lucky.  Henry's battle was fast and furious, he fought with all he had, but we did not have to watch him suffer for long.  At the time, those twelve days seemed unending.  But he was, in some ways, one of the lucky ones.  He is no longer suffering.  He is no longer being poked and prodded, stuck in a hospital bed, having poison pumped into his body to kill the cancer.  That is not a judgement against those who are still fighting alongside their children...we would be doing the same thing if we had been given the chance!  There is nothing "easy" about cancer in general, and childhood cancer in particular.

As we move through September, my mission is to educate...to remind people that we do have these children fighting for their lives...that we have families torn apart every day when they hear the awful words, "your child has cancer,"...and that we have families (of fighters and angels) fighting every day of every year to educate and advocate for these littlest warriors. 

Being busy and milestones...

It has been a busy few weeks in the Seretta house. For me, that means a little extra stress. I need down time...time to be quiet, by myself...time to process my emotions, thoughts and feelings. This isn't to say that I don't enjoy doing things with others. It just means that things start to get bottled up when I don't have time to myself.

We have spent the last couple weekends celebrating Carissa (Tim's sister) and Adam's (our now brother-in-law) wedding. It has been fun to see three years of thought and planning come together into a beautiful ceremony and celebration. I am truly happy to see Carissa and Adam so happy and in love. Like so many things, though, these festivities are somewhat bittersweet for me. Family weddings bring to mind the last one, when Tim's brother got married. For that wedding, Henry was the ring bearer. My day for that wedding revolved around Henry and keeping him happy and cared for. This time around was much different. Instead of chasing a toddling one year old around, I was chasing the bride as a back-up photographer. I saw Henry's basket of flower petals and lost it. Carissa had a dance dedicated to Tim and I, and I lost it again!

We always miss our loved ones a little bit more when milestone events come around. To me, although it is bittersweet, it also means that our loved ones are still remembered, still in our hearts. I am looking forward to a quieter week so I can process some of these emotions, but I am grateful to Carissa and Adam for the sweet rememberances of both Henry and Brady they included in their special day. Congratulations to Mr. And Mrs. Stowe, and thank you for including Henry and his memory in your celebration!

Getting Through Grief

When someone dies, you don't get over your grief by forgetting, you get through your grief by remembering." ~author unknown

I came across this quote yesterday, and it has stuck with me.  We never "get over" our grief, and those that ask us to have never truly grieved.  (Thankfully, I haven't had anyone suggest to me that I just "get over it.")  And forgetting, though it may seem to work for a time, will always catch up with you.

It's the second part of the quote, though, that truly spoke to me.  I feel like it is describing exactly how Tim and I grieve...by remembering.  As the school year has started, we tend to spend part of our morning comparing Timehop and Facebook memories.  This morning was especially fun...one year ago I went to Outdoor Ed overnight with our 6th graders.  This left Tim at home on his own with Henry.  I had no worries about leaving Tim and Henry on their own...Tim was (and still is) an amazing daddy and I knew he and Henry would have a grand time.  I was a little worried about me...I hadn't been away from Henry for more than a few hours up to this point, and certainly not overnight!  Tim, of course, came through and from the moment he picked Henry up from daycare he sent me pictures and videos.  I got videos of Tim telling Henry, "Say hi to mama!" and Henry breaking out in a big smile.  I got to see and hear Henry babbling at bedtime.  And so did all of the other adults at Outdoor Ed with me!

We are so lucky to have so many people that allow us to grieve by remembering.  I've never had someone tell me it's time to stop sharing stories about my boys...I am able to tell stories through my blog...I can share pictures and videos through the magic of the Internet...our family is more than happy to share stories back and forth...my friends and coworkers don't cringe when I mention Henry's name yet again at lunch or mention him in a Facebook comment.  I am thankful to all who continue to allow me to grieve in this manner...thank you for sharing our memories!

Deep Dark Places

I have been working hard to see the positive, and find the good in my life and the world.  Overall, I think I've been doing a pretty good job.  Like this morning, I was cranky heading off to work...not really wanting to go.  Yet, as I stood outside (in the lightning, thunder, and rain) and greeted the kiddos and helped them out of their cars, I couldn't help but smile at each, "Good morning," "Thank you," and smile I got.  This turned my day around, and I found myself enjoying my classes, having fun being back in the swing of teaching.

However, I do still have my dark moments.  These are not moments I'm proud of, and I even hesitate to share.  But I started this blog as a way to let people inside...to put myself out there...and to deal with all of the emotions that go along with my recent life experiences.  Most of my dark moments lately deal with pregnancies and babies...and our lack thereof.  Tim and I have been trying for several months now to get pregnant, and obviously have not yet been successful.  The first couple of months we tried, I obsessed every day.  I obsessed over which days we needed to try.  I obsessed over when I could take a test, and I counted the days, hours and minutes until I could do so.  I analyzed every feeling...was my exhaustion because I was pregnant?!  Was that cramp the start of a baby?!  This took over my life for a couple months.  Then I realized that I could not live like that.  That's when I really tried to focus on what I DO have in my life that makes me happy...my husband, my fur babies, my family, my friends, my job.  And that helped tremendously.  Now I don't obsess all month long.  Yet each month when that stick shows just one line, I feel let down.  And then I read about others having babies, getting pregnant...even people who already have a child or more at home...and I start to go to the dark place.  Why do all of these people have what I so badly want?  Why can't it be me waddling down the hall?  Why can't I be the one who is a walking zombie, getting no sleep at night? 

The thing is we never know.  We never know what people have gone through to become parents, what losses or struggles a new mother has suffered, or what challenges they may face in the days to come.  Just because a couple has become pregnant doesn't mean the road ahead is easy.  Just because someone has kids at home and brings home a new baby doesn't mean they have the easy road.  And I have to remember there are many people who wish they could have what I already have. 

Everyone has deep dark places...but the trick is not to reside there, but rather visit briefly and then move on.  When I get to the dark place I let myself feel sad, and I let myself cry.  And then I let myself be happy and feel joy.  Although sometimes it's hard to imagine, God has a plan for us, and we have to be patient and know that everything happens in time and for a reason.  In the meantime, I lean on my husband (thankfully he has strong shoulders and comforting arms), snuggle my fur babies, and remember my angel babies. 

A boy and his dog...

Before Henry was born, Sebastian was our one and only "baby" at home. We spoiled him rotten, and he ruled the house. He kept me company through nearly 4 months of bedrest. People told us things would change once Henry came, and although in my head I believed them my heart felt differently.

I worried a little...even then Sebastian was a bit of a crotchety old man. He grumbled, didn't like being disturbed, and wanted to do things on his own time. I wondered how he would respond to a newborn...that may not know not to disturb the dog.

Things did change. Sebastian no longer ruled the house...that became Henry's role! But as far as worrying about Sebastian's reaction to this "furless" puppy, I needn't have. Sebastian, crotchety old man-dog, sat patiently as Henry's not-fully-controlled hands "petted" him or yanked his fur. He would sit without even making a move. (Of course then if I tried to pet him, he'd start grumbling!) Sebastian would even jump up in my lap as I rocked Henry, always careful to land on my legs and not the baby.

Dogs are perceptive animals. Sebastian felt our protectiveness over Henry, and he took on the very serious big brother role. He knew that this strange creature was an important new member of his pack, and he let him in. So in honor of National Dog Day, here is our monster and his dog.

Heartache

Every time I read about another tiny cancer fighter being diagnosed, or gaining angel wings, my heart aches.  Every time I read about someone's mom or dad fighting for my life, my heart aches.  Every time I see a picture of Henry, my heart aches.  Although I work hard to notice the good in my life and in the world, I think I also take more notice of the sad.

It reminds me a bit of the movie Inside Out.  In that movie, we see inside the head and heart of a little girl.  We see how her emotions interact to make her who she is.  (I'll try not to spoil the movie for anyone who hasn't seen it...but if you haven't seen it, you should!)  In the movie, Joy likes to take charge.  And she likes to keep Sadness suppressed, along with Anger and Disgust.  Through the movie, though, we find that all emotions have their purpose, and that we are not fully whole without feeling all of our emotions.

What I take from this movie is this...in order to truly feel happiness, we must also feel sadness.  Had I not known true joy with Henry, I wouldn't be as sad that he is no longer here.  However, I wouldn't want to trade that joy I had felt...even if it meant that I wouldn't feel such sadness.  The joy, sadness, anger...all of the emotions that I have recently felt have made me a more compassionate person...a more positive person...and even a more feeling person.  I am more accepting of all my emotions now - I let the sadness in, because I know that sadness isn't permanent...that I will feel happy again.  And even though I feel heartache looking at this picture, and other pictures of Henry, I also feel joy that I was chosen to be his mama.  I feel joy that I got to, and still get to, love him.

Stress

The start of another school year has arrived. As teachers, we never feel quite fully prepared for those bright-eyes kiddos to walk through the door. Whether it's our first year or our twentieth, there are always things left undone on the list. This year's start has seemed especially hectic, yet I know it's like that every year.

It's easy to feel overwhelmed as I see emails going back and forth with stress pouring out of every word, or see colleagues in the hall with panicked looks, or as I look at my pile of things to do without knowing where to start. But then I need to take a deep breath and remind myself of what's really important.

Will these kiddos know if I don't have a checklist finished yet? Will they know that my plan book is not fully filled out, or that my desk isn't organized just so? Probably not. Will they remember what we did on the first day of class...or the second or the fiftieth? Not specifically. But will they remember coming into an inviting library, where they felt safe and cared for? I hope so. Will one of those kiddos remember our library as the place they fell in love with reading? That would be wonderful.

Life is full of stress, and a lack of adequate time. We can't control the outside stressors and we can't create more time. What we can do is control how we react to the stress, and what we choose to focus on. Do I get stressed on crazy days at work? Absolutely. But then I (try to) take a breath, think about what really matters, make a plan, and move on. Let's focus on what matters...and try not to let the everyday stress get in the way. It's not easy...it takes work of its own, but I think it might just be worth it!

Hangovers

Many of us have experienced a hangover or two in our life...those times when we pay the price for overindulging...those times when, if the hangover is bad enough, we swear that we will never drink again. And yet, a day, a week, a month or perhaps more later, we often find ourselves overindulging once again.

This morning it occurred to me that grief, in a way, is a bit like a hangover. I had a rough day (well, a rough weekend), and as I sat with my coffee I physically felt as though I were hungover.  When hungover, I wake up exhausted, as though I haven't slept.  I wake up with a feeling of emptiness.  I may briefly feel a bit better, until I roll over or turn my head or move suddenly, and then another wave hits me.  These same feelings come with grief.  I wake up exhausted nearly every morning, regardless of how much sleep I have gotten.  I feel a constant emptiness in my heart and soul...at the center of my being.  And there are days when I feel a bit "better," only to be harshly reminded that I am not, in fact, "better."

Yet there are differences between hangovers and grief.  Hangovers are a consequence of choice.  We choose to overindulge, and consequently suffer a hangover.  Grief is a "consequence" of deep love.  We choose to love deeply, and thus we grieve deeply.  Hangovers are a reminder of poor choices we've made, while grief is often a reminder of the good in our lives.

I would never wish that I hadn't had Brady or Henry in my life.  Grieving their loss means that I loved them...that I had and still have something worth grieving.  I have the memories of their faces, the sound of Henry's giggle, and the feeling of both of them wiggling around inside.  And those memories are more than worth the emotional hangover of grief.

Music

Music has always been an important part of my life.  I grew up listening to all kinds of music, from folk and bluegrass to Top 40 pop.  My first concert was The Statler Brothers at the state fair, and I remember loving it!  Since then, I've seen many concerts, musicals, and performances.  My iTunes library has it all...classical and instrumental, rap and hip-hop, country and bluegrass...music for every mood.  I even have playlists for Brady, Henry, and my mom...music that reminds me of each of them.

Once in awhile, though, a song that I haven't heard in awhile, or have never really listened to, catches my ear.  That happened tonight.  I've been crafting most of today, trying to create a new bulletin board for the library.  (What else would a school librarian do the weekend before school starts?!)  And as I was working, I had my iTunes playing.  At one point, in between cutting and gluing, this song caught my attention...You're My Angel by Brooks & Dunn.  I honestly can't remember listening to it before.  I caught the phrase "you're my angel," and then listened to the rest of the song.  It was this verse that hit home:

Pick me up when I'm feeling down
When I stumble on shaky ground
Oh you're my answer when I can't tell
You're my angel

I was comforted by this song, and by these lyrics.  How lucky am I, to have so many angels watching out for me...when I'm feeling down, when I'm weary...lifting me up and carrying me when I can't seem to move myself forward.  To be honest, some days it doesn't feel so lucky, but tonight it did.  And I think that was all of my angels looking out for me.

https://youtu.be/v1p3nJlaJPQ

A letter to Henry

My Sweet Henry,

Here it is, the start of another school year. What a difference a year makes. Last year, I was dreading dropping you off at Carrie's. Not because I worried you wouldn't be okay, but because I worried I wouldn't be okay! I had to go from spending every moment with you to just having evenings, weekends and days of to play, snuggle, and watch you grow. 

How I wish I had the same dread this year...the dread of missing that special time with you. Instead, I dread returning to work in a world without you in it. Your picture is everywhere at work...my desk, the window, even my computer background. I tell everyone who will listen all about our special monster...even if they've heard the same stories time and again. I think about you as I interact with students...and how each one of them are as special to someone as you are to me. But I still wish with every fiber of my being that you were here with me, rather than in my heart and my memories.

I love being your mommy-it's the best job I've ever had. In your short time with us, you taught me more than I could have ever imagined. You taught me about love, strength, patience, perseverance, and joy. You showed me how strong I can be, and how I can use that strength to help not only myself but also others. You have helped me understand so much more about myself and this world we live in. You are now and forever my monster, and my hero. I hope that I can make you proud as we enter another school year. I love you, Henry. Give your brother and Nana a hug from me.

Love ALWAYS,

Mommy 

Journeys and Paths

There have been many times in my life when I thought I had my path mapped out. I had a goal, and I had my path to get there...or so I thought. I planned to graduate high school and go to a small liberal arts college in Minnesota. But due to available scholarships I ended up at UNL. I planned to graduate in 4 years as a genetic scientist. Yet six and a half years later I graduated with a degree in education. I was pretty sure I wanted to teach 3rd grade or younger in Lincoln, but accepted a job teaching 5th grade in Papillion. Even better, when I was a young teenager, I assumed I'd be married and have children by the time I was 20 or 21 years old...

Looking back over my life, my goals, and the sometimes crooked paths I've taken,  I'm reminded that life doesn't always (actually rarely) goes as planned. I am thankful that I ended up at UNL where we could somewhat better afford my multiple changes in major. I loved teaching older kids-they have a much better understanding of my sarcastic humor. And if I hadn't ended up in Omaha (or had I been married by age 21) I never would have met Tim. 

At this point in my life, I have a "goal" to be a mother. Yet I already am a mother. I'm a mother to two beautiful angels, and I'm a mother to three crazy dogs. I hope to have more children, but who knows what that path will take. It may be a straight line, or it may be a crooked path. But whatever path this journey may follow, at some point in the (hopefully not toooo far future) I will again have a child at home to mother. In the meantime, I will nurture my puppies, my students at school, and even Tim!

Underlying Emotion

On the surface, I've been feeling okay lately.  The start of a new school year is looming, just a few days away, and I'm not even actively dreading it.  I feel like I've taken full advantage of my summer freedom...I've taken a few trips, done several projects, watched a LOT of series on Netflix, read a bunch of books...  I've also taken advantage of my relatively responsibility-free summer to prepare for the upcoming school year.  I have my library objectives for each grade level plotted out for the year, and I have the first several weeks of lessons planned.  This is quite a change for me, as I'm usually making my first-day lesson plans at about 8:00 on the day before the first day.  So, on the surface, things are good.

However, I'm pretty sure I have some unresolved emotions underlying the "good" surface.  Over the past couple of days, I've had mini- and full-blown meltdowns over inconsequential things.  Yesterday, when Charlie peed on the bed, I got overly angry.  (To be fair, I should have been a bit angry at him...he did it while looking at us!)  But that altered my plans of getting other things done, and I couldn't quite get myself sorted out after that.  And today, when Tim asked me a question about mounting a projector in my library, I ended up in tears.  I thought that all of my preparation over the summer was going to be for naught, and instead of thinking things through and coming up with a reasonable solution (which I eventually did) I broke down and cried.

In both of these instances, once I gave myself room to breathe, I realized that I am okay.  But it has reminded me that although I have worked hard and made progress, my grief journey is far from over.  There will be days when, for little or no reason, I burst into tears.  There will be days when something little sends me into a rage.  What I have to remember on these days is to breathe, and give myself permission to break down.  I would imagine that I will have more of these moments in the coming weeks, as the beginning of the school year is exhausting all on its own!  But the beginning of the year also brings anticipation, excitement, and a fresh start.  So I will continue to seek out the positive, allow myself to feel all the emotions I'm feeling, give myself space to breathe, and live and enjoy my life as it is now (while also enjoying memories like this one from one year ago...)

Perspective & Realities

As the start of school gets closer, I've been struggling a bit. Not with getting myself or my library ready, or the short number of days of freedom left. Rather I've been struggling as I see moms (and dads) lamenting about their babies starting kindergarten. In fact, I was getting a bit angry. How dare these parents be sad that their child is growing up and moving through life? How dare these parents want time to slow down, for their babies to stay babies?

As I stewed, though, I came to a realization, or several. First, if I were the one sending my baby to kindergarten, I'm sure I would have mixed emotions, and may shed some tears. Even in Henry's short life I remember regularly wishing time would slow down. Second, mixed emotions are the reality for these parents, and that's okay. Just like my reality is missing my boys, and that's okay. Just because I wish for someone else's reality doesn't make them wrong in living it. (If that makes any sense...) My own reality may even be something someone else wishes for...a happy marriage or an enjoyable career. 

One thing (of many) that I've learned over the past several years is that I cannot base my happiness on someone else's reality. If I do that, I'll never truly be happy. So to those mamas and daddies sending babies off to school (whether that's kindergarten, high school, or even college), feel away! To those mamas and daddies wishing they had babies to send off to school, feel away! Whatever your reality is, live it and feel it fully. But also try to find the good...to enjoy the life you have, even if you do so while wishing and hoping for a different future.

(Here is a picture from my "reality" last year...my first day back to work last August!)

Fur Babies

Our life has turned upside down once or twice over the last couple years.  I'm reminded of that today, which has been designated as Sebastian's birthday.  We celebrate our dogs' birthdays as the day we adopted them.  So that means that two years ago, Sebastian became part of our family.

That summer two years ago was a pretty rough one.  We were supposed to be making final preparations for Brady's arrival in late July.  Instead, we were partying and drinking (probably too much), and trying to convince ourselves that we could be happy.  It was after attending an engagement party for Tim's brother and then-fiance (now wife) that I decided we should have a dog.  We already had a cat at that time, though she was not much for cuddling.  In fact, she preferred to violently attack rather than cuddle or do any cute cat things.  At the engagement party I got to play and cuddle with Catherine's Pomeranian.  I told Tim about our dogs we had growing up - Australian terriers named Buddy and Mac.  Then I told him I wanted to look for an Australian terrier.  I hardly believed it when the next day he sent me a link to an Australian terrier mix that was available for adoption at the Humane Society.  Tim got off work early, and we headed up to meet Sebastian.  As soon as I heard the click of his paws down the hallway, I knew I was in love, and Tim knew we were bringing a dog home!

All of our fur babies have provided comfort, support, unconditional love, and given us something to take care of when our arms and hearts feel most empty.  It may seem a little crazy to have three small dogs, and honestly it probably is, but they have been some of the best therapy for our grieving hearts.  They don't replace Brady or Henry, but they do give us something to love.  Sebastian kept me company during the long days, weeks, and months of bed rest, Murphy has stolen Tim's heart (and mine, too), and Charlie just keeps us on our toes.  We haven't quite figured out how we'll manage all three dogs and a baby, once that day comes.  But then again, we weren't sure how we'd manage one dog and Henry, and like so many things, we just figured it out.