Two Weeks

Today marks two weeks since Owen passed away.  I have composed many blog posts in my mind since then, but have not been motivated to type one out until now.  Two days after losing Owen, we moved.  This was actually really helpful for Pete and I- we were consumed with the stresses of packing, moving, and unpacking (and ripping up questionable wall-to-wall pink carpet).  We only slept in our Clinton Street house for one night after Owen died and it was very obvious to me I had emotionally moved on from that house.  My dining room-turned playroom-turned-Owen's room felt empty without my boy sleeping within sight of the living room.  I turned my head to check on him many times on the last Thursday in the house.  I was happy to leave- the neighbors are dearly missed, but that house is not.

I am less confident the timing of the move was helpful for Ellie.  She has struggled with Owen being gone.  We have a wonderful family therapist and my best friend is a psychologist.  They have both been very helpful in explaining the level of understanding Ellie has of everything that has happened at a 3.5 year old level.  She misses Owen, she initially asked frequently when he was going to come back from Heaven, but seems to have now accepted he will not return.  She then decided that she was going to Heaven in two weeks to be with him.  She also expressed concern about who was next to go to Heaven.  She has now moved on to making 'wishes' such as: before I eat this piece of candy I am going to make a wish: "I wish that Owen would come back from Heaven." It is heartbreaking.  We work hard to speak concretely to her about what has happened.  When Owen was living, we often pointed out the ways Owen's body was different from hers and how it did not work properly for him.  We have continued this conversation with her now that he is gone.  We speak plainly about how his body stopped working for him, that he died, that no one did anything to make it happen, that we miss him, that Mommy and Daddy are not going anywhere, and that he is in Heaven.

The concept of Heaven is a bit abstract for her.  You can see how her mind is working to understand where Heaven is located, what exactly constitutes an angel, and will gobble  up any nugget of telling regarding these subjects.  A few days ago, she asked me, "Mommy, do you think sometime if we look up at the clouds, we will see Owen poke his toes down at us?"  I can only hope- I really miss those long, pale stinky feet.  They were some of the cutest toes I have ever encountered.

For me, it has been far more difficult than I anticipated.  Loving Owen was an exhausting endeavor.  His need of round-the-clock care, round-the-clock medication, and unpredictable moods left Pete and I with very little reserve after two years.  I do not miss those parts of Owen's life.  I sure do miss holding my boy.  I miss dressing him, bathing him, I miss calling to check on his day when I am at work, kissing his face until he would grimace, I miss listening to him breathe and hearing him clang his toys on his toy bar, I miss feeding him bottles and having him pee on me almost daily, I miss putting lotion all over his body as he would wiggle and protest, I miss rubbing Aquafor on his face and telling him he wasn't going to be a crusty boy, I miss putting gel in his hair to make those red curls look adorable.  I could continue this list for a long time before I ran out of all the things that made Owen such a blessing in my life.

I do not miss the making or dispensing of medication, the constant trips to CVS to pick up medication, the cleaning of syringes piled up endlessly next to my sink, the long phone calls to insurance and pharmacy companies for supplies, the stress and planning required to take him out of the house for a simple trip, or watching him have seizures, cry out in distress, or struggle to breathe.

I am thankful that his body is now at peace and his soul is in Heaven, but I know it will be a long time before I will be able to get through my day without feeling like a large piece of me is missing. The grief I feel comes in waves and unfortunately it seems to be harder two weeks later than it did in the days after Owen passed away.  I remember the dark days after Owen was diagnosed as a two month old.  I was deeply depressed and did not feel  I would ever be capable of feeling joy again.  At some point, I came out of that place and was able to live life and love my two kiddos as any mom does.  I know the overwhelming sadness I feel right now will eventually dissipate.  A dear friend, who lost her son a number of years ago at the age of twenty-three, shared with me she still has days where she cries over the pain of him being gone.  It is daunting to know I will forever have these dark days of sadness and ache for Owen.  If this is the return for the two years that I got to love my boy then I can accept that exchange.