Choices

Hey there-

I was driving Arthur to his guitar lesson recently.

We got into one of those random conversations that happen in a car with a seven year old. Somehow it came up that I had only wanted to have one child and that after a while his dad and I had changed our minds and how lucky we were to have changed our minds because,"what would we do without you, Arthur?"

"Yea," he said enthusiastically from the backseat, "and I wouldn't have been able to go to San Antonio, or Yellowstone, or New York, or Florida......."

(I found it interesting that the trips we have taken were first on his mind of what he would have missed.)

In my usual fashion of giving too much information I tried explaining my belief that if he had not been born to Bob and I then his spirit would have gone to another family and maybe they would have gone on even better trips.

At this point we had arrived at our destination and were walking across the street towards the guitar shop. He looked up at me wide eyed after I said this and adjusted the guitar on his shoulder.

"Well, I would have had to run away from that family and find YOU mom," he said shaking his head and looking back down at the street.

A few days later I was washing dishes when Arthur started asking me some specifics about the time frame of Bob's death. He wanted to know how old he was when Bob died and the like. I didn't think much about it initially because this is not an unusual line of questioning around our house. But then he surprised me-

"Well, it's a good thing I wasn't born to that other family because you really needed me."

That statement made me pause.

I thought back to being early in my pregnancy with Arthur and the knife in the belly fear I felt when Bob was first diagnosed. I remembered Arthur being a newborn and Bob dying and the hazy exhaustion that consumed me. I remembered the many times I thought that I didn't need Arthur. As a matter of fact, I often thought about how much easier life would be without an infant to care for.

And then I thought about my friend's belief that children choose their parents. And my sister's belief that children come into the world knowing what their parents need from them.

I don't know why Bob and I changed our minds about a second child when we did.

I don't know why Arthur would have chosen to come into the situation he did.

But I'm glad we did and I'm glad he did.

Because one thing I do know is that Arthur was right, I did need him.

Thanks for checking in-

 Irene

Regret

Hey there,

I have been a bit of an emotional wreck the last few weeks. Mike will certainly back me up on this statement.

Not sure what it is about.

Could be the final steps of the book publishing have not been going smoothly and I am being constantly reminded of my ineptness when it comes to all things technological.

Could be Henry's birthday on the 23rd and Bob and my wedding anniversary coming up on the 10th (would have been #14). These milestones can still throw me into a bit of a grieving relapse, momentarily throwing me back to square one. Thank goodness that after six years square one doesn't last too long.

Could be the presentation that Mike and I are doing next week in San Diego. Putting together a power point on the unique struggles of remarriage post widowhood has my mind going in all different directions. Plus, as noted before, technology and I are not exactly friends. (do you think the group would be OK with a facilitated discussion? Maybe there will be lots of questions....)

Could be the summer and all the kids being home and the level of chaos in the house not being very conducive to any focused work getting done. Not to mention they keep needing to eat and have clean clothes and get to track meets......

Could be the angst that has been involved in planning our "family" trip this summer to Yellowstone and the Tetons. The teenage girls don't seem to find it the trip of their dreams as we and the boys do and are opting out this year.

Could be the recent email and Facebook postings from two close friends of Bob and mine from our Portland days. One family shared pictures of their trip to the Galapagos Islands and the other family is on practically the exact same vacation we are taking next month only all their children are with them and seemingly having a grand time.

Considering my emotional response to the last "could be" I am thinking this might be the straw that is breaking this camel's back. When I received the picture album from the Galapagos and saw the front picture of the three of them with their arms around each other smiling I was unable to open the rest of the album, seriously. And don't get me started on the Facebook postings from our friends in Wyoming. Throwing the computer across the room came to mind.

Regret has come running out of nowhere and kicked me in the stomach. Ouch!

That was supposed to be us, Bob and me and our little family, happily travelling the world smiling out at cameras from exotic ports. Or headed off on camping excursions to wild and wooded places with our children wide eyed and communicative in the back seat. I never imagined having a child who didn't like to hike or camp or worse yet, not travel at all.

I never imagined so much of what has come to pass.

Now, would any of these imagined joyous trips happened if Bob were still alive? Some most likely, but not all. I am sure behind the smiles toward the camera we would of had our share of grumbling and slouching and arguments about electronic device use. Bob and I would have had budget troubles and gotten annoyed at each other because we were lost and didn't have enough food with us, the kids might have whined to be carried along the trail or worse, just wanted to go back to the hotel and watch TV.

Bob and I never had the chance to be disappointed by a family vacation or the fact that Arthur complains if we walk the dog for more than a block. We never had to decide on rules regarding electronics or whether or not the child has to go on the vacation because it is a family vacation gosh darn it! We never had much of a chance to find out what our family vacations would have looked like. I just know I never imagined them to be involving a six year old with ear buds connected to an iPod hanging out of their ears, or children who didn't like to camp (which I can at least wrap my head around)or travel at all (which I can't understand in the least)or me learning how to play Monopoly on an iTouch and thinking this could be a brilliant way to make it across South Dakota and still have some sanity left. (hey, it beats having one of the kids repeating "I'm Babba Wawa and I'm weally weird" all the way across the state--I really did that by the way, when I was about 10. My poor parents and brother. I am sure if an ITouch would have been available back then they would have happily had me stare at that thing for a while)

All this emotion I am feeling, this regret, it's OK. Regret is sorrow over something you can't change, it's part of life. Sometimes your kids don't turn out how you imagined or your job or your vacation or your life. It doesn't mean it is bad, just different than you imagined. It means you're still living!

As my Italian teacher once said; "You just must accept".

Easier said than done I'm afraid.

Thanks for checking in-

Irene

Haiku

Hey there-

Our church had their annual "Lessons on Loss" this morning during religious education for the children.

Today the teacher asked Henry's class to write a poem about someone, or something, that they had lost. Henry chose the Haiku. With his permission I am sharing some of these below. I think he was excited at the idea of the poems being "published", although when he heard there was no money involved his enthusiasm did wane a bit.

I am very sad

My father passed away

I cry every day

When she said he's dead

I didn't know what to do

I had no idea

She is very sad

My mother mourns away now

She is very sad

I had no idea

So I tried to cheer her up

It did not work well

(that is my personal favorite)

In the past I have approached this series with some trepidation. Mainly because my kids are the only ones in their class to have lost a parent. Most children talk about a pet, maybe a grandparent, and one child mentioned his dead iPod. I kid you not.

Henry proudly marched up to me in the sanctuary to show me his poems. I happened to be talking to the mom of the dead iPod at the time. As I teared up reading Henry's poems I heard her gently remind her child that some people had experienced much more significant losses. Henry seemed unfazed by the difference between the two boys losses and, in fact, told me the story of how the iPod had died on the way home. (it involved a soda and Mentos)

I can learn so much from the children. While I worry and fret about my poor son having to talk about his dad's death while others talk about lost electronics, my son seems to find sympathy for every one's loss, no matter how small.

My lesson for the day was all loss is significant.

But come on.....an iPod?

Thanks for checking in-

Irene

PS- I can't seem to make the computer do a space in between each haiku? So you will just have to pretend it is there. Sorry.