Grieving Gracefully. Or not so gracefully.

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”

Lately I have been caught off guard by my grief. I thought I dealt with it. Ha.
Grieving is a funny thing. Okay lets be honest there is nothing funny about it. But it is odd. And gross and yucky- and I am trying to figure out how to do it as an adult. Because I have responsibilities. A job. Two kids. My kids have needs, and expectations, therapy sessions. And sometimes they need to eat. (Unless you are Shiloh, then ALWAYS you need to eat)
I digress.
So grieving. Yeah- I am trying to figure out how to do it gracefully. Is there a way? I find myself caught off guard by my grief often and it comes pouring over in the most untimely circumstances.
Our counselor suggested that I tend to wrap my grief up into a nice little package. (Yes We see a counselor- cause that's just good sense)
I wrap my grief up to end holding onto hope. However- he has challenged me to let go to Let God keep me afloat. To ride the waves of far enough to lose sight of the shore. And trust in the deep, that my faith, my Lord will carry me.
And I'm afraid.
I am afraid that in the deep I will be alone.
That the waves will pull me under and I will not be able to swim.
That when I cry out and the Lord will not redeem this huge mess. That he will not come to my rescue.

And I am trying to figure out how to do it in my daily life, without feeling so yucky. Because my grief is thick, it is sticky, and doesn't smell nice. It is heavy.

For a while we were extremely hopeful that she wouldn't have a "severe" case of TS. That brain surgery was her key- and she would be seizure free. That she would "catch up" or develop typically, or with just a minor delay. And as time progresses we are somehow surprised by the reality of where our 3.25 year old is developmentally. How our almost 14month old has passed her so quickly. And that with the return of seizures her development has haulted so quickly. And so we grieve.

So where do I even begin? Do I begin with her?

I should have a daughter who can talk, who can make up funny stories, and can sass me.
I should have a daughter who can articulate her needs. Who goes to preschool 2 days a week for 3 hours and then who can excitedly tell me she was the line leader, or that she made a friend. I should have to spank her butt for calling me a poop head- (I mean just just have heard this happens with 3 year olds).
She should want to dress up in a tutu, she should want to dance in the rain. She should be scared of the imaginary things living under her bed- and when she is scared of them, she should be able to tell me. My biggest concerns should be her bad attitude or how she treats those around her. I would worry about her having a runny nose, fever, and cough.

Or do I begin with Dan and I?
I shouldn't have to worry about missing med doses, and the consequences if I do. I shouldn't have to be sad we can't afford the school that is best for her. I shouldn't feel guilty that we don't have the resources that can give her the best. IE- Therapies, and classes that will help her learn to speak, use a fork, or pull up her pants.  I shouldn't have to feel bad for wishing she was typical. I should get to sleep with my husband more than once a week. And I should never have to say "We don't bite, hit or slap ourself" to my 3 year old.  I should get to enjoy sleeping in till 8am without fearing my child is dead. We shouldn't have to be awake more at night than asleep. We shouldn't have spent a nice downpayment on a house in the last 3.5 years on medical bills.

Because as our counselor pointed out this week, we not only grieve the disease Emmaus has. And the loss of the typical. But we grieve the life we do not have. And the loss of what "should have been".

I know this post seems yucky. And not so hopeful. But I think it is necessary to get through to the place of acceptance. And hope. And back to our reality- where pain & joy will always co-exist. They will always walk hand in hand. But I think this grieving is necessary to thrive there. And not just survive.

So for now please excuse  if this seems less than graceful. If it seems yucky. If it seems uncomfortably real or painfully raw. I assure you it is all of those things. And while our culture likes to sweep them under the rug. I will just continue to write honestly here.