Breathe.

To draw in air and expel it from the lungs. To take in oxygen and give out carbon dioxide through natural processes.

Natural processes.

We do it from birth. The first sign of life. It sustains us.

As a young teen I can remember lying still in my bed holding my breath; and when I couldn't hold it any longer, I tried to draw the shallowest of shallow breaths. I wanted to breathe so shallow that it looked like I wasn't breathing at all. As if it would make me disappear and suddenly no one could see me. Like I didn't exist.

Because I felt like I didn't count. Faceless and insignificant. Lifeless.

Over the past 30 years I've actually retrained myself to breathe that way. Slow. Shallow. Minimal.

The first time I really thought about this was during my MBSR classes. It was the first time in many years that I would consciously draw a deep breath. This natural process was so foreign to me that it would cause a tingling rush throughout my body. It felt awkward and unnatural to feel my chest rise and fall as I inhaled and exhaled. I felt as though everyone was looking at me .... pointing .... laughing. I tried to be more mindful of deep breathing, but like most other things in my life, I wasn't very successful. As soon as I became angry or upset, I regressed.

Until today.

Today I start breathing.

Perfectly Beautiful.

Sir Poopsalot arrived today. 9 days overdue.

Monday February 28, 2011 at 11:59pm. All 6 pounds 1 ounce of preciousness. It was a blessing for me to be with Lou and experience his delivery. Gramma Chelle even got to cut the cord!

I am so proud of Lou, and there was nothing more beautiful then watching her cradle her son in her arms.

He is perfectly beautiful and his Gramma Chelle loves him with all her heart :)

UGHH, UGGHHH and more UGGGHHHH

Another one of those friggin days. I seem to be having more and more of them lately ... I've even named them: My pity party for one.

There's so much 'in between' that I haven't posted. I'm overloaded with teenage drama.

Playing the waiting game with Lou ready to deliver anyday now. Stressed over her health and the health of her baby with the news that Lou has a kidney problem which can not be fully investigated until she delivers. The OB ordered a Bio Physical Profile on the baby based on concerns that he has stopped growing. She moved back home in December, but she's a teenager in love and Kmaq still has considerable influence in her life. He refuses to go to school, and refuses to work. He's an unmotivated 16 year old with "no use for adults." His mother actually signed papers giving permission for him to marry Lou .... because that will make everything magically better, and will limit the control they apparently think I have over the situation. Thankfully, Lou doesn't see that as a solution and is in no big hurry to marry. He also thinks being married will actually increase the amount of welfare they'll be to collect. Dream big there, Kmaq. Set that bar high! Lou busted her ass, working 2 jobs while continuing to go to school to try and prepare for this baby. She does not want to go on welfare, an argument she keeps having with him. I'm busting my ass too, trying to do everything I can to help her so she doesn't have to. Before Kmaq, Lou was focused. She knew what she wanted in life and had a plan for how to get there. She was 'the one' out of my five children who I had no doubt would follow her dreams and achieve every goal she set for herself. When I found out she was pregnant at 16, one of the first things she told me was she was not giving up on herself and she didn't want me to give up on her either. She acknowledged that having the baby would mean she'd have to work harder to reach her goals, and it would take longer. But she made a promise to herself and to her baby that she would get there. Yet the immaturity of her age has her thinking she can change Kmaq. UGHH.

George is ALL drama, ALL the time. I love her dearly, but I don't like her much these days. At 19 years of age I expect more from her. She feels, as an adult now, there are no rules. No more household chores. No more curfews. No questions to answer. No one to answer to. Who knew? Oh, and respect? She'll have none of that nonsense either. Suddenly, she has the right to treat people however she wants. The right to speak however she wants; to swear at her sisters and I. I've given her 2 options ... follow the rules and continue to live at home ... or leave. She has until Friday to decide. UGGHHH.

And then there's Gingo. Now, I understand she's dealing with a lot right now. First, being a 13 year old girl and all the hormonal puberty shit and rebelliousness that goes along with that. I was there once, and I do remember what it's like despite what my kids think. In addition, our family really has been turned upside down and sideways dealing with a teenage pregnancy. There has been much fighting, many tears, family separation, disappointment, uncertainty ... I could go on and on and on. I know she's getting mixed messages from me ... I mean how do I show love and support to Lou without sending the message to the others that I approve of Lou's situation?

I'm tired. Goodnight.

Blessings for Daria

Blessings for Daria as she's laid to rest. Thank you for sharing your journey. May you finally be at peace.

Prayers for Daria's family and friends. May you draw strength from her memory, be embraced by her love and comforted by her spirit.

Today, I light a candle in her honour.

Remembering

Remembering a precious unborn life lost January 22, 2010.

your precious heart no longer beats;
your eyes, forever closed.
never will I kiss your cheek;
your tiny hand, I'll never hold.

I don't pretend to understand
the meaning in God's ways.
forever will I treasure you,
and in my heart, you'll always stay.

Love, Gramma Chelle

Long Distance Hugs and Prayers

Sending some long distance hugs and prayers to Ion and oldschool. Holding each of you and your families in my heart during this difficult time. May your precious memories bring you comfort in the days to come.

Letter to Lou: How I Feel

I love you.

I miss you.

I miss your smile. I miss your laugh; the sound of your voice. I miss your energy. I miss your spark. I miss your attitude. I miss your independance. I miss your enthusiasm. I miss your determination. I miss your love of life.

I miss talking to you. I miss your hugs. I miss your love.

I miss these things and more, not only because you're not here, but because you're not you anymore.

You have become a stranger to us in so many ways. The Lou you are now, is not the Lou we have loved and raised for 17 years. THAT Lou would not have settled. THAT Lou would not sacrifice her values; her family.

I'm also missing the experience of my daughter's first baby. My first grandchild. I don't get to share in that "pregnant glow." Your excitement at feeling the baby move. I don't get to hear your dreams for your baby; for your future. I don't get to hold your hair back when you're sick; or rub your back. I don't get to touch your tummy and talk to the baby ... tell the baby Gramma Chelle is here, and I can't wait for him/her to arrive. I don't get to share my stories of my pregnancy with you. I don't get to share the excitement of shopping for your first baby. My first grandchild. All those firsts, that I have been forever shut out from.

Like the enemy.

Like someone you needed protection from. Like someone my grandchild needs to be protected from.

And the very people who Kmaq professes to hate, are the same ones who you are surrounding yourself with. The ones who Kmaq told me spent his entire life telling him he was a "screw up" and "would never grow up to be anything" are the ones who are going to have an influence in my grandchild's life. The dysfunctional people who filled Kmaq's life with anger, hatred, violence and alcoholism.

And your family, for whatever reason, is excluded. Isolated. You can't spend time with us. We can't take you shopping. He refuses to contact you on the phone your Aunt bought you for your birthday. You can't even tell Kmaq that we bought you a new shirt. The minimal contact you do have with us in done on the sly. Hidden. Lied about.

Like it's wrong.

I can't pretend to understand. I can't pretend it's ok.

I spend hours awake at night when I should be sleeping. I spend a lot of time crying. I'm sick to my stomach. I go from starving myself to gorging myself. I go from sadness to angry so fast that I don't even know where one starts and the other ends. And the cycle continues. I try to figure out how things got this way. What did we do wrong? What can we do to fix it?

I don't even want to go Christmas shopping. I get out into the stores and I'm drawn to the baby section ... only to be smacked in the face with the reality that I'm not involved. Not allowed. It makes me sad, and I just want to go home and crawl under the covers. Hide from everyone. Hide from the choices you've made. Hide from the way you make me feel.

People ask about you all the time. All I can do is fake a smile, take a deep breath and swallow my tears ... and tell them I don't know. I guess you're doing well. I assume things are ok. I feel like an idiot. What kind of mother doesn't know how her daughter is?

I ask Gingo if she's heard from you. It's clear from her reaction that she has. She gets uncomfortable. Tells me she hasn't and then will do anything she can to avoid the subject. To get away from me. Clearly she doesn't want to betray the trust and confidence of the big sister who she absolutely adores and admires. But she also doesn't want to lie to her mom. I don't want to make her have to choose. So I avoid Gingo.

I feel like a monster. Like a terrible person who doesn't deserve the love of her daughter, and doesn't deserve to love her grandchild. I ask myself what have I done to deserve to be treated this way?

I've "adopted" a family for Christmas. A young single mom. I will shop for her and her child in lieu of being able to shop for my own daughter and grandchild. I will hope she appreciates the love that my gifts come with. I will hope it brightens their Christmas and puts a smile on their faces. I will hope my love and support is welcomed in the lives of strangers, where it's not welcomed in yours.

And I hope with every ounce of my being that it makes me feel a little better about myself.

BIG Hugs.

So, here I am more than a week since my last post. Wow ... almost 2. Guess I have, yet again, failed NaBloPoMo's post a day :( I have been very busy with school, with Spring, with family issues.

Today, especially though, I need to take a few minutes to honour the memory of my best friend on the 4th anniversary of her passing from metastatic breast cancer.

Dear Donna,
I can't believe 4 long years have passed. I miss you dearly. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've glanced around my living room, and could swear I see you sitting there with me over tea. I miss our walks, our long conversations and our laughs. Often times my first reaction is still to pick up the phone to call you. I do talk to you; I hope you can hear me. You've inspired so many aspects of my life, including my recent trip back to the classroom and my desire to make a difference in the field of palliative care. Thank you for your friendship, your support and your unwavering belief in me. I hope I was as good a friend to you.

BIG plans for the garden mean a big job ahead.

What a gorgeous day! We were blessed with sunny skies and temperatures above 20 degrees Celsius.

I was up and out early this morning to do my weekly cleaning for Mom and for Wee. When I got home Peach was just finishing raking and sweeping up out front. It's so nice to get rid of the 'dirtiness' of winter. Earlier in the day I had planned on taking advantage of the beautiful weather to get some work done outdoors, but couldn't decide whether to start in the back yard or the front. Peach getting the work done out front was so much appreciated, and took the decision out of my hands about where to start.

After making a cup of tea I headed out back. Peach had already moved our new patio set out there and I couldn't wait to get it set up. Unfortunately I didn't do any work outdoors last fall which means I have even more to do now that spring is here. We have major renovation plans for both the front garden and back garden this year. We became sidetracked from some of the cleanup work this afternoon discussing the garden plans. Of course, I also had to move the patio furniture around a half dozen times until I found just the right spot for everything. Or should I say just the right spot for today .... tomorrow may be quite a different story. I tend to not know if I like something until I leave it overnight and then look at it with fresh eyes the next day. We did accomplish quite a bit today, although there is still so much work ahead.

Thankfully, we'll be blessed with the same beautiful weather for the rest of the weekend :)

BIG month.

So the theme for April is BIG. Fitting, since I am apparently about to begin one of the biggest phases of my life. BIG changes. BIG decisions. BIG adjustments. And no doubt BIG compromises.

Didn't plan it this way. Wish it wasn't this way. But it is what it is.

I read something today that is also quite fitting:

Healing is a coming to terms with things as they are, rather than struggling to force them to be as they once were, or as we would like them to be.

Let the healing begin.