Swallowed Whole

tears

This morning I spent 45 minutes composing a blog entry about a happy memory. I decided that after baring my Soul, I would give myself, and you, a break from the Grief. I think that’s important to do every once in a while. It was a fantastic piece of writing, if I do say so myself! Considering I’m not all that impressed with my writing, that says something! I laughed while remembering the great Slim Jim War. I planned to finish up and publish the piece, get dressed quickly, and spend my day in my new favorite place, Castine Candle Company. ( http://www.castinecandle.com ) Carrie and Micah, who own Castine, have become so dear to me. Their shop is my safe place to go and just Be. They let me help with whatever they’re working on, and most importantly, they make me laugh. I love them.

My writing was going so well, I decided to include a short video of Nolan being funny. I wanted you to hear his voice and his laughter. Inadvertently, I clicked a link which navigated away from the page. Yeah. Bad move. Everything I had poured my heart into, everything I laughed about, everything that made me feel good in that moment was gone. Simply and irretrievably gone.

The floodgates opened. I called DH to come help. I posted for help on Facebook and stepped away from the computer. I tried to hold off the panic, but it came full freaking force. So, trying to stay rational, I went and took a shower. I thought I’d just go about my day and not let it get to me. It’s frustrating to lose all that work, but it’s not the end of the world.

I found myself on the floor of the shower crying so hysterically you couldn’t tell which was water and which were tears. I couldn’t breathe. I was trying to tell myself that it was only a bunch of words and I could write them again but it didn’t help. My emotions didn’t match the event. Then it hit me. Nolan’s gone. Just like that. Simply and irretrievably gone. And I can’t get him back. There is no “undo” button. I poured my heart and Soul and every fiber of my Being into that Boy. I laughed with him, at him, because of him. I enjoyed everything about him, and as simply as I clicked away from a screen, he was taken from my life.

I don’t even know how I managed to get out of the shower or upstairs. It’s all a blur. I was having a full-blown panic attack. I have no idea how DH knew to come check on me, but thank God he did. Well, good for me, not him. He found me on the bathroom floor, in the very spot where we lost Nolan. I couldn’t stand and was hyperventilating severely. I had taken a half pill (under the tongue like you’re supposed to in an emergency), but my bottle was empty. No help there.

I don’t know how long I was on the floor. I remember almost calming down and my head spun so quickly, I passed out. I know I stop breathing when I pass out. I heard DH’s voice from what seemed like far away telling me that “This is not good for me. Get up. Get in bed.” It roused me enough for him to get me out of the room. God, it broke my heart all over again. I was the one on the bathroom floor with Nolan when he went into cardiac arrest and stopped breathing. DH was on the phone with 911 and came in to start rescue breathing, and then when we lost his pulse, DH was the one to start CPR. I grabbed Little N and tried to get him out of the room so he wouldn’t see. I can’t get into all the details of that night right now or even just the events of that room. I was in and out of the room and have those visions that replay on a constant loop 24 hours a day. It’s nothing compared to what DH has visions of. And there I was, in the same spot, on top of Nolan’s blood stains still marking the carpet, unconscious and not breathing.

I let DH get me to bed, and there I stayed all day.  I managed to get up long enough to pick up Little N from school and take him to the doctor. My head was still spinning so badly, I was nervous to even drive. I pretended like nothing was wrong, but Little N knew. He looked at me a little sideways and asked if I had remember to pick up my pills today. Little Bugger is quite an intuitive young man. As soon as we got home, I climbed back into bed where I remained right up until I decided to just let the words out, which was about 7:30pm. I cancelled my plans at Castine. I didn’t answer my phone. I watched bad reality tv all day. And I cried an ocean of tears. Instead of the respite from Grief I had given myself permission to enjoy, it sneaked right up and swallowed me whole.

Some days that happens. Tomorrow is 3 months “Since.”

11 thoughts on “Swallowed Whole”

  1. I will read every blog you write. Forever. At the risk of sounding like all moms who loves her babies, I too, admire your strength. I have not said this before to you because I cannot imagine my life without one of my own creations and I cannot know what I would do, except that I have always feared it since the day I laid eyes on them. But I know you would be my light. I love you. And your family. And all of your fabulous friends.

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  2. If You are brave enough to live it and even braver to write it, and braver still to share it, we are surely able to read it and send some light your way

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  3. My heart breaks for you. I have been and will continue to read your blogs. I don’t know what it must be like for you as a mother to have to go through this and still function for your family that is still here with you. I know that they claim crying is supposed to be cleansing, but anytime I have sobbed and cried, I have been exhausted. I can only imagine what it is like for you. You are a strong woman who shows a great deal of strength on a daily basis. You deserve to have a good cry and to have love and support from all of us. My thoughts and prayers are with you often. May you find some peace in writing this blog.

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  4. Sobbing…. Thank you for bearing your soul…for having the strength to get up off of the floor … for having the unimaginable strength to function daily … I cannot even begin to imagine… I love you my friend .. Xoxo. … Tomorrow…. I will pray for all of you… And that still won’t be enough:(

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  5. Your writing reaches out and grabs me. I get it. I can feel your words. I get how the loss of a happy story compares to the ultimate loss you have suffered. I get how losing ‘only words’ could be your undoing. Give yourself another chance to take a break from that grief. Every day – just try to give yourself a little break. Sending you love and hugs.

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  6. Amy my heart is breaking for you. I cannot even imagine the pain you have to endear. I hope writing about it helps you. Tears are streaming down my face as I read this and feel your pain. I know it is hard for you to keep going but you need to be there for the other family members. Will continue to keep you in my prayers that you find peace and strength to carry on.

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  7. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but you have made great progress already. I knew writing would help you work through things. Sometimes it’s like walking through barbed wire, trying out get to that other side… And you are going to make it. Keep going and keep writing, and I’ll keep painting ❤ So glad I have you as my mother, too! It is all because of you, you know. You started me on my spiritual path, the very same one that has cushioned me during this traumatic ordeal of losing my brother. That same strength still resides in you ❤ ❤ ❤ Call upon it! Use it!

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  8. Oh, Amy…I am so sorry you had to live that all again. I am thankful Ray can work from home. That is such a blessing right now. When you and I took that CPR class, I remember both of us saying we wanted to learn it but hoped to never need it. I assumed, but did not know for sure, that one of you probably tried that. I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been for Ray. I pray for some peace to envelop you both. I hope your writing helps to release some of your anxiety, and I am sure there are other parents out there who will find comfort in knowing that your emotions (and perhaps theirs) are perfectly normal. Hugs to you, Jen Cram

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