That's where I am and I guess unless you have been here before you are thinking I am some kind of crazy.
This blog is about to get a little less lighthearted, so if you aren't into it- I bid you farewell.
Two weeks ago I had our third child and every ounce of the experience felt like the first.
It was just as exciting, we had the time of our lives. He is amazing, I am recovering from surgery well- all seems fantastic. Really- well, it should be.
A week to the day, my Grandfather passes. This is news I knew was coming. It hung like an unfortunate mistletoe... I thought of him everyday and my last wish was that he could meet the one who will pass on his name.
We named our son Zeke Ole Wild Daly.
Ole is my beloved Grandfather- he was so much more to me. To everyone who knew him and that was many.
My last wish wasn't granted, and you know that is just par for the course for me.
My Grandfather was very predictable, this is something I didn't inherit. I am not- neither are my wishes.
Maybe I wish for the wrong thing. I should've wished for a cure for Parkinson's Disease?
A week has passed since we lost him and I have felt Ole with me more so than at any other point in my life.
I can't stop crying.
I am not a crier. Something I did inherit from my Grandfather. I never once saw him cry.
I am sad that my daughter will never remember him, through her own memories.
It devastated me to have to tell my 11 year old son, who will remember that day forever.
It's not fair that my Grandmother is now alone, although I am sure there is a weight lifted, she will hopefully be able to enjoy that at some point, when all the madness ends.
I am also missing my husband, who has just called to tell me he has landed safely in Sydney. He and my son left yesterday, the boy to visit Grandparents in Arkansas.
Initially I had thought it would be okay to have them both gone, as my Mother would be here with me and the little ones. She is a great nurse, housekeeper and all around Grandmother- but with the passing of her Father, she had to go home- leaving me and the babies, reluctantly but I of course, insisted.
Now I am sort of regretting the trips I said were okay to take, although being forced back into reality is a good thing. A blessing in a way- it is going to happen eventually. I guess I go kicking and screaming, but I go.
I'm at a crossroads of sorts. I feel abandoned and tired and irritated and happy. I miss my friends, yet I don't want to see anyone.
I want my husband.
Which is interesting in itself. I am feeling for the first time in a long time (ever?) that he is now the backbone of this house. Maybe all this time, he is the one who actually makes it run best.
I don't give him enough credit.
I am somewhat bossy and a know-it-all at times. I feel like doing it all gave me that right and for some reason, right now, that seems so stupid, I can't put it into words.
So where do you go when you are in between PPD and WTFN?
I don't know.
Write, I guess.
I am going to write about it, incessantly. It is dripping out of me and I never have the time to talk about it and you know I am not sure what talking about it would do. If I talk about my Grandfather, I can't stop crying and so that's sort of "off limits" but the whole feeling of PPD is vague- I am not depressed. I don't need to be hospitalized but I am feeling the let down, the "can I do this?", the "what the fuck now?".
This blog is about to get a little less lighthearted, so if you aren't into it- I bid you farewell.
Two weeks ago I had our third child and every ounce of the experience felt like the first.
It was just as exciting, we had the time of our lives. He is amazing, I am recovering from surgery well- all seems fantastic. Really- well, it should be.
A week to the day, my Grandfather passes. This is news I knew was coming. It hung like an unfortunate mistletoe... I thought of him everyday and my last wish was that he could meet the one who will pass on his name.
We named our son Zeke Ole Wild Daly.
Ole is my beloved Grandfather- he was so much more to me. To everyone who knew him and that was many.
My last wish wasn't granted, and you know that is just par for the course for me.
My Grandfather was very predictable, this is something I didn't inherit. I am not- neither are my wishes.
Maybe I wish for the wrong thing. I should've wished for a cure for Parkinson's Disease?
A week has passed since we lost him and I have felt Ole with me more so than at any other point in my life.
I can't stop crying.
I am not a crier. Something I did inherit from my Grandfather. I never once saw him cry.
I am sad that my daughter will never remember him, through her own memories.
It devastated me to have to tell my 11 year old son, who will remember that day forever.
It's not fair that my Grandmother is now alone, although I am sure there is a weight lifted, she will hopefully be able to enjoy that at some point, when all the madness ends.
I am also missing my husband, who has just called to tell me he has landed safely in Sydney. He and my son left yesterday, the boy to visit Grandparents in Arkansas.
Initially I had thought it would be okay to have them both gone, as my Mother would be here with me and the little ones. She is a great nurse, housekeeper and all around Grandmother- but with the passing of her Father, she had to go home- leaving me and the babies, reluctantly but I of course, insisted.
Now I am sort of regretting the trips I said were okay to take, although being forced back into reality is a good thing. A blessing in a way- it is going to happen eventually. I guess I go kicking and screaming, but I go.
I'm at a crossroads of sorts. I feel abandoned and tired and irritated and happy. I miss my friends, yet I don't want to see anyone.
I want my husband.
Which is interesting in itself. I am feeling for the first time in a long time (ever?) that he is now the backbone of this house. Maybe all this time, he is the one who actually makes it run best.
I don't give him enough credit.
I am somewhat bossy and a know-it-all at times. I feel like doing it all gave me that right and for some reason, right now, that seems so stupid, I can't put it into words.
So where do you go when you are in between PPD and WTFN?
I don't know.
Write, I guess.
I am going to write about it, incessantly. It is dripping out of me and I never have the time to talk about it and you know I am not sure what talking about it would do. If I talk about my Grandfather, I can't stop crying and so that's sort of "off limits" but the whole feeling of PPD is vague- I am not depressed. I don't need to be hospitalized but I am feeling the let down, the "can I do this?", the "what the fuck now?".
Hard to say "Congrats to your new born son" and the same time "So sorry to hear about the loss of your grandfather" ... Tough one! You wrote earlier about your grandfather and that he will die soon. Reading that made me think of my grandmother and that she died way too early (she was only 67 and my daughter was born 4 years later). You can't tell when is 'the right time' to die of course, but I guess you know what I mean.
ReplyDeleteSo I don't really have good words for consolation. Cry if you want to cry and be happy that your grandfather was able to see his third great-grandchild, that is wonderful.
For a different reason that's what I'm doing at the moment: Crying, cause I'm so sad, but at the same time trying to be happy about the great time. Guess it makes it so difficult, cause those are complete opposed emotions. Happiness and sadness. Does that sound precocious? Hope not, not meant that way. Just trying to find consolating words.
I really don't know what to say, just can tell you in my thoughts I'm with you and usually crying is relieving.
Take good care of yourself and I know what you mean when you say writing things down is your kind of therapy. Agreed!
All the best to you from bloody cold & rainy Berlin.
Cheers,
Stefanie Kelly