Distraction.

I've been struggling so hard the past month and a half. Trying to distract myself with every little thing. Working out, reading, putting on my happy face online and with everyone I speak to. As the weeks have passed, it's becoming harder and harder to distract myself. Just sitting and watching television isn't enough if I have to sit through commercials. Sitting online isn't enough when I take a moment here or there to think. Reading and working out, provides a steady stream of distraction. But I'm flying through books too fast to keep it up. With this depression I have no desire, whatsoever, to leave the house, so exercise isn't quite doing it's job. And the pure laziness I feel when I get like this is keeping me from doing anything much at home.

I have no desire whatsoever to do anything besides the bare minimum. I don't want to leave my bed at all. Yet staying in it is even worse. So I make myself get up before the hubs and go sleep on the couch. It's the only way I've been able to get up and take care of the kids in the morning. The mornings, I stay in bed until they wake I fight the most intense battle. My mind tells me to stay there. Don't worry about anything, just grieve and cry and sleep. My heart reminds me I have three precious children I need to take care of. My heart tells me she wouldn't want me wasting time reliving the past, feeling guilty, feeling angry, feeling that low.

I know things would be easier if I just made myself do things. If I just made myself do the mundane household tasks, play with the children, work with the children, leave the house, things would be easier..

Lovely. Just lovely. As I sit here typing what is so hard for me to get out, so hard to explain, while I fight to get the words out, the song comes on. Her song. Stopped my trying, dead in it's track, mid-word. "Every little thing's gonna be alright."

You see, New Years Eve 2007, just 3 hours before 2008 would begin, I got a call. Nana had a heart attack. We were having a party at our apartment. Since I was just 18 days away from my due date with Collin, I had the only other sober person there come with me to the hospital. On the way there Bob Marley's Three Little Birds came on the radio. I thought nothing of it at the time. Nothing at all. Just a couple days later she had another heart attack. Again, the song came on. Again, it didn't phase me. I hadn't even noticed that I heard it the night of her first one. On January 19th, two days after my sweet Collin was born, I got a call while I was still in the hospital, "Nana's in surgery, her entire colon is being removed, C-dif, not sure if she can pull through with her heart still healing from the bypass." Just a few pieces I remember from the conversation... I called my doctor to rush the   discharge. I needed to get to the other hospital. When I climbed into the car, with my brand new baby boy and my husband, he was turning the radio dial and stopped on the same song. "This is my message to you-ou-ou, saying, don't worry, 'bout a thing"

I was too worried to think much about it still, but it did calm me down enough to stop crying. I never made it to the hospital that day. The song came on a couple more times during my visits to her. On her birthday, February 9th, we left our 3 week old son with a sitter, for the first time. With the c-dif and being in ICU, my boys weren't able to come. Tom and I parked pretty far from the hospital. Just as we were about to get out of the car, it came on. I immediately cried. We were being tossed around with the doctors words. Every other day it seemed we were being told she was strong. Was going to pull through. Every other opposite day we were told she was weaker, and wouldn't. After listening to the song, and crying my eyes out I had the most intense sense of calm. We walked the 8 blocks to the  hospital in silence. That night we were told she would be in the ICU for a couple weeks at most, then moved to a different floor, then moved to a rehabilitation facility, then could come home if she had help. Two days later my entire family made the decision to pull the plug. She was bleeding internally, the pneumonia caused her lungs to be 80% filled with fluid. Her kidneys were failing. All of the machines were living for her. She was in and out of it. While she was "there" she would shake her head no to every question, never opening her eyes. The 11th was such a long day. We had all, except my husband who stayed with my boys, been there with her. The hospital staff didn't dare speak against us for breaking the two visitors at a time rule. Finally a little after two pm it was time. The plug was pulled. We all crowded around her bed. Crying and watching. Struggling to catch her breath.. Finally a very, very close family friend, scratch that, a member of our family, went to her. "It's okay Betty-Girl. Go see Frenchie." She said a few more words, and we all cried more intensely. She looked around the room. Into the eyes of most, if not all of us. And that was it. None of us wanted to leave. I tried so hard that day to remain strong. So strong for my mother. I couldn't, absolutely could not let her see me upset. Finally, after hours I left. As soon as I started my car, it came on again. I laughed. What kind of cruel joke is this? Every thing is not going to be okay. It will never be okay.

The day of her funeral, I was in a daze. I couldn't cry. Nana wouldn't want us to cry over her. She'd much rather us gossip, and be nosy. To laugh at our memories of her. And I did. Well, when we weren't in the car anyway. When leaving the funeral home to head to the church, Bob Marley played on one of the radio stations. When leaving the church for the cemetery, again. When leaving the cemetery, again.

She was never told she had her own special song.

It's been almost three years since her death, and this year has been the worst since it actually happened. Maybe it's because my mind is clearer now than it was the last two years. I don't know. I just know I'm really struggling. This battle is continuing deep in my soul. Half wanting me to give up. To do anything to soothe the pain, even if it causes more in the long run. The other side keeping me from diving into the deep end again. Fighting to keep me strong. Fighting to keep me here for my family. For myself. Fighting to keep me safe from myself. Fortunately, I know that side will win. It's only lost one battle and has gotten strong over the past couple of years. But it doesn't make it any easier to know that I will get through this. It doesn't make it any easier to know things will get better once I start doing things again. Once I start seeing some sun.

All I have to do is remind myself one small thing: "Every little thing, is gonna be alright."

I guess this post turned into a completely different one from what I intended, 

all because this one little song started on the television behind me.

I saw this video for the very first time after arriving home from the funeral. 

This take on the song perfectly shows my view on the song. 

Us parents need to hug our children more often. Tell them how much we love them, how much they mean to us, how grateful we are to have them in our lives more often. After this afternoon, I can no longer understand how some parents, myself included sometimes, can take their children for granted.

I experienced the most frightening 5 minutes ever this afternoon. Stuck feeling heartbroken, upset, angry with myself, and yet also so grateful it was just 5 minutes and even more so, so grateful other people, complete strangers, men, women, and children, were able to come to my aid.

This afternoon, I lost my son. As we were re-entering the Town Green, the group we were with including myself, and two younger children stopped at the Christmas tree as it was going to be lit soon. Thomas kept walking. As soon as we got the three strollers lined up, I did my usually counting of the children, coming up short by one. That one was Thomas.

I immediately asked if he went off with a few others to the obstacle course. No one knew. I ran over their and those people has not seen him. Pure panic set in. With out a care who heard, I began screaming, "Thomas" as loud as I could. Immediately, an older man asked me what he was wearing, what he looked like, and his age. More and more people asked as I searched the crowd, screaming for my son. Tears began streaming down my face, just as they are right now as these short 5 minutes replay in my mind again. Within moments many others were searching for my precious baby boy.

Just as soon as the panic set in, there he was. In a police officers arms. "Is this your son?" he started to ask, but before he could finish I had snatched Thomas out of the officers arms thanking him over and over again. I ran my hand down Thomas' cheek, I hugged him and kissed him, and told him how much I loved him. I told him how frightened I was and how glad I was to see him. Then he began crying, "I didn't know which way you went, Mommy!"

He told me he told some kids he lost his mommy, and needed a policeman, something we have gone over before. Just as one mother was going to the mic to make an announcement Thomas had told the policeman my name, his, and our address and phone number.

As Thomas and I walked back to the group we were with, who were watching Collin and Bailey, person after person came up to us, so happy Thomas and I found each other. Strangers hugged us. I thanked each person for helping me, and just held on to Thomas so very tightly. I did not want to let him go.

I hope this scare is enough to remind others, that a child getting separated from his or her parents in a crowd can happen to anyone. Even a so-called "helicopter parent" who is constantly keeping their children within an arms reach, the parent who is always telling their children to stay close.

Please, fellow parents, teach your child what to do if they ever get lost. Teach them to search for a peer or someone in uniform. Teach them their full names, your full names, address, and your cell phone number. Please.

Though he was only gone for 5 minutes, those 5 minutes were long enough for us to lose each other and anything could have happened in such a large crowd at dusk.

And please, keep your faith in people. Though it doesn't always seem it, most people are willing to help, offer a hand, scream out a child's name, and be just as happy as the parent in distress, when the lost child is found.

As for me, I am just so grateful for the help I received and to have my son here with me.

Don't ever take your children for granted, in a split second they can be gone, and many others are not found. Give those children extra hugs and cuddles. Let them have that sweet when they ask and it's still hours until dinner. Let them run with others. Let them have fun. And have fun with them. Before we all know it they will be too old to enjoy the kisses and hugs and I love yous. They will be too old to play with us. Enjoy those babies, I know I will.