The "New Normal" everyone always talks about....

   I just read an article written by another loss Mom, entitled "After the After"....and I find myself feeling I'm there now. 16 months after Gray's death, I'm there now. All the drama of his illness, his fight, his funeral, and the after-effects of our family finally reuniting and trying to make it through this horrible mess, things are slowly getting back to "normal", at least, OUR new normal.  And, I guess it's not what I expected at all.

   When I first got home after Gray's death, I felt like a zombie, completely out of my element for a very long time. Not only had I not been around both my kids at the same time very often in all those months, I'd not been the wife and Mom at HOME, running my life for a very long time either. For six months, nearly half of a year, I was basically on lock-down, living on adrenaline, groaning from my inner-most being to God to save my boy. I was like a horse with blinders on up in that hospital on the 5th floor.  Listening, taking notes, asking questions, meeting with specialist after specialist, getting to know nurses so I could eventually go 5 minutes across the street to the Ronald McDonald House every night to get sleep. And then I also had a husband who owned his own business and 2 older sons who I homeschooled and were missing school. We had to sit with a calendar that was sent to me by a friend, to figure out how to run our new life~ the life of parents with a critically ill child, while also running a business and caring for and living a life with our 2 very alive, healthy boys who also needed our full attention. I had to lesson plan, teach school in surgery waiting rooms, pack bags, do laundry,  coordinate child care and meals, find a sitter for my dog and make sure my grass was mown back home. It was the most difficult and bizarre feeling to live in both worlds and juggle it all. .It was exhausting. Everything else just fell away...I remember my closest friends calling me or coming to visit, and I'd fit two hours worth of conversation into about 10 minutes. I'm sure I wore them out...Because I was in survival mode. FIGHT mode. All I cared about was Gray, and him getting the best care, getting him well enough to come home, and eventually  getting his new kidney....A kidney I wanted to give him. That's all I wanted. Nothing, nothing, nothing else mattered.

  And, after 9 surgeries, months in an ICU, and watching my littlest boy go through things I hesitate to even let my mind dwell on after all these months, he died, just like that. Gone. All hopes for healing and restoration lost forever, at least on this earth.  All these months later, I still feel like I'm reeling some days. And other days, it all feels so very real. And the pain has become a familiar friend. I find myself sitting watching my boys in Tae Kwon Do practice, staring off into the distance, and it all comes back to me. There aren't words or even coherent thoughts really, just a numb hollowness sets in. And just like that,  I feel completely alone in a room full of people, as tears well up in my eyes as I watch my boys learn a new kick, or win a little paper "high five" award.  I'm so blessed. I just love these amazing kids of mine. All three. I'm so proud of all of them.  I want to just let the tears flow and run out to hug them and never let them go, but I just sit there, solid as a rock, with probably what looks like a very serious look on my face.  But inside, feeling like a soft breeze could bowl me right over.

  For me, just living day to day, and getting back out there and involved in my life again, brings so many things up for me. Simple day-to-day situations and conversations take on a new light and make me hyper-aware of my reactions and interactions with others.  You see, I've always considered myself a curious person. I'm a question-asker. I love to get to know others and find out about their lives and what they're about.  I have many different styles of friends, and appreciate them all, in their uniqueness.  I think I'm a bit like my Dad, in that I can get along with just about anyone and find something to talk about.  Okay, maybe the latter part comes from my mom, but still.  But now, I'm on the opposing end of these questions; questions that at one time made me beam with pride and open me up to new friendships and shared experiences.  They just don't have the same tone anymore.  Now, I feel fear creeping in.  The typical, "So, do you have children?", or "How many kids do you have?", is just an open door to more questions, and it's a struggle to know how to answer depending on the situation or person.  I've always claimed all 3 of my boys, and deep down, I love talking about all three, but it's still hard for me to get things out without a shadow washing over my face, or my eyes getting a bit misty, or maybe even my lip quivering....not every time, but many times.  It's just sad.  Saying one of your kids is dead, is just, well, SAD!!  There's no way around it.  Maybe one day I'll have it all nut-shelled perfectly, but for now, I run over different scenarios, and how I might answer appropriately while honoring all three of my boys without making others feel terrible, sad, uncomfortable, or sharing something too deep that's just not appropriate in a more salutation-type interaction. It's like trying to figure out an impossible puzzle, where nothing feels familiar or safe at all.

   And, dang it, I miss getting to know others.  Asking questions.  Feeling open.  I've seen friends I've had for years fade into the distance and say nothing to me for over a year.  I have no idea what to do with that.   And I don't know why.   I feel they've missed out on something very beautiful and personal to me. Painful? Yes, but absolutely profound too.  It sucks. It hurts.  Losing a child isn't just a tragic thing that is super painful, you deal with it, and then it's over and you're all better....It's a pain that is always beneath the surface at different levels, dependent upon many things.  Silly things like changing a calendar can knock me down and make me cry for days, but walking around a cemetery with a close friend who just lost her Mom feels like home. It's so, so strange.  I don't even know what to do with it on many days.  And now, many days, I feel fine. I get up, take care of my boys, teach them, run my house, and meet up with friends for playdates.  I'm living my life, and some days, I don't have zeroed-in thoughts of Gray.  Sometimes I don't really think of him much at all, yet, he's always there.   He's the turned down page in my House Beautiful magazine when I see a Benjamin Moore gray paint color, or a highlighted "gray" I see in my son's Language Arts manual.  He's a teddy bear brought to me by my boys, or a box of minion crackers I see while grocery shopping. He's always there, even as a passing thought....He's just not every single thought like he was for so many months..... It's changing over time. Ever changing.

  So yeah, the new normal is different.  In many ways I feel more free, because I've faced one of my biggest fears, and heck, I live it every day.  So I don't really fear too many things like I used to.  I rarely focus on what others may think of me, or fear looking silly doing things. I'm more free in those areas.  But the thought of introducing myself in a new group and talking about my kids, or meeting a new friend and seeing her reaction and what she does with my story...those are scary moments.  They're scary because even in this new normal, I've never been here before, and I don't really know what to do with it.  And I'm still grieving.  I'm still in pain.  I'm still missing my littlest, most amazing boy so very, very much.  And I'm still so proud of him.  I not only cry thinking of how proud of my boys at karate, but I cry thinking of how proud of Gray I am. And my heart is still so broken.  I just want him here.  I want to kiss him and hold him, and tell him how very brave he is.  I miss everything about him.

   I still have so much to work through. I feel like I'm living in the present more now than ever, but I still have to look back to Gray's life and his fight and deal with my feelings regarding all of that frequently, as new issues arise and bring me pain.   I have to then stop and rehash.  Cry, and talk things out. I have to look at pictures and imagine back to those scary times where I had no control, and ask God to mend those broken and weak spots, and God, there's a lot of those. It is endless, tiring work.  But, it's also freeing.

   So that's what the new normal feels like. Completely unpredictable, beautiful, and painful, depending on the day or moment.  I'm learning more about myself and what I want in my life, and am learning how to explore this newfound freedom in knowing I am not in control at all, really.  God knows the master plan, and I'm trying to figure out how best to react and shape my character in light of His final say.  It's a struggle, for sure, and somedays I'm so depressed or angry.  I didn't ask for this, and He knew this was my greatest fear, yet He gave it to me.  I will probably never understand this side of Heaven, yet, I still haven't questioned His sovereignty.  I don't like His plan very much at all, regarding Gray's death,  but then I'd rather have my son in Heaven than to not have had him at all.  He was worth all this pain.  All 247 days with Gray was worth every bit of this.  "Though he slay me, yet I will trust in Him." "Though outwardly I am wasting away, inwardly I'm being renewed day by day."---loose translations.  I'm in the furnace, being fired, being refined. It's painful, but I'm praying I can hold on through the pain so God's finished product will be more beautiful than I ever imagined.  I'm so thankful for God's good and perfect gift from above, my sweet Gray.  He's teaching me so much through that little boy of mine.  I love you, my sweet boy.  I hope you have sweet dreams in Heaven tonight.  I'll see you soon, okay?