Miss You

I'm missing Sam a lot today (and yes, there are tears).
So many things I wanted to do with him, talk to him about, see him achieve.
Love you, my beautiful boy.

Oliver

A lot of people have been asking me how Oliver is going. The truth is, I don't really know. He seems to be coping really well, but then will come out with a comment that makes me think it's playing on his mind.

For example, this morning Oliver woke up bright and cheerful as usual. We were talking about what I was going to put in his lunch and then out of the blue he said:
"How did Samuel fit in the box?"
I assumed he was talking about the coffin and explained that the coffin was the right size and Samuel fit perfectly. I reminded him that he had seen Samuel in the coffin. He then went back to talking about lunch.

He does this a lot. Last night when we were talking about going out on our bikes he asked, "how did Samuel stop breathing?". Of course I don't know the answer to this either, and that's what I told him. Once again he went back to the other subject.

Now if it was me asking thee types of questions out of the blue, it would be because it was constantly playing on my mind. But is it the same for a six year old? The few books and articles I read about children and grieving have said that it is fairly normal for kids to do this, especially kids Oliver's age, as they try to make sense of things. And I don't have a problem with the questions, I just wondered if it was because it's all he thinks about. I don't think so. Kids do tend to just blurt out what' on their mind, don't they. That's not such a bad thing I reckon.

Watch out for changes
When I went and saw the counsellor a few weeks back, she said that kids are pretty resilient and bounce back quickly. As a teacher, I can understand that. I've seen kids go through some pretty horrible things and come out the other side OK. But I've also seen kids fall apart or go off the rails, so it was a big concern for me. She also said to watch out for dramatic shifts in behaviour and that he might not even react to it until he reached 13. Wow.

Oliver has been amazing really, when you think about it. He was upset the first day, I think both as a reaction to the people around him as well as the initial impact of the situation. In the days that followed it was like he was overcompensating for the unhappiness around him.
On Christmas Day (which was three days after Sam died, so everyone was still pretty raw), he was going over the top with enthusiasm. Each present (we had tried very hard to do a 'normal' Christmas for him) was opened slowly and carefully and he raved about them, like he was trying to be happy for everyone.

For about a month, every time Oliver saw Anthony (or me) cry he would rush over and give us a hug. One day he must have heard Anthony crying outside because he raced out there to find him to give him the hug. It was so sweet to watch. He's kind of eased off a bit now, but if he's not doing anything and notices someone crying, he'll go and hug them. I've only seen him cry once. Last week, I think it was the night of his first day back at school, we thought he was asleep but then heard him crying. When I asked him what was wrong he said "Sam". Of course that set both Anthony and I off.

But, he's back at school and so far he's been OK. The school has been wonderful - so supportive and caring. They are really looking after him, and from what I can see so far, Oliver is responding with a good effort.

We'll see how he goes.

Thank you for the music

Not that Samuel would touch Abba with the proverbial barge pole...
No, Samuel had pretty good taste in music. It's a weird thing for a parent to be proud of, but there it is. And it's the subject of today's post.


Sam and I had a lot of things in common. But the thing that we shared the most was a love of music.

Sam started life like any other 'normal' little kid. He loved the Wiggles (I still remember taking him to see them when he was about 3. It was in this little hall in Queanbeyan and it cost about $8), Hi-5 (in their original form) and dancing at discos. They used to have this awesome kid's disco on every Sunday afternoon at the Lanyon Valley Club and he loved it! He'd be up there on the dance floor, having a great time, winning prizes, you know, disco stuff. I know, I know, you're saying "that's not the Sam I know", but I swear it's true. Once he hit about 5 he somehow got the message that this kind of behaviour was terribly uncool, and that was the end of it, but it was nice to see while it lasted.

But there were still some daggy moments
Mind you, this coolness epiphany was not final. At various times throughout his early years, Samuel developed a taste for: The BeeGees (particularly their 1997 hit 'Alone'), Hanson (yes, Mmmm Bop) and even **Cringe** the Hampton and the Hampsters.

Again dad, again!
When he was quite small, Sam developed a passion for the opening credits of "The Drew Carey Show". For a while he was content with seeing it each week, but after a while he'd ask for it specifically. So one week we taped it. Possibly a mistake, from then on he would often watch it over and over again. I think the tape (yes my young y and z genners, video tape) wore out before he did!




But things did improve!
Those of you who know me know that I am a big fan of music. Generally the louder the better. Anthony is pretty much the same. From very early on we used to play our music quite loud, especially on housework mornings or at parties. For a while we were a bit worried, as Samuel would often say 'it's too loud'. This coupled with his love for the above-mentioned daggies was - as you can imagine - cause for some concern.
We started to see signs of a more positive change when Samuel was about 4. About the time that The Offspring released 'Conspiracy of One', Samuel he decided he liked them. I was pretty happy, because I had a few of their albums. Thus began Samuel's education (under my expert tutelage of course!)

A little bit later, I played Samuel a Public Enemy song (the only one I had at the time) He really liked them and bought a couple of their albums. This time he was teaching me. When he was about 7 he really got into Outkast (before Andre 3000 decided there was more money to be had in the acting game), and a little bit later, the Black Eyed Peas (around the time they released Monkey Business). Again, I was a little concerned, as he didn't seem all that interested in 'my music' at that time. But I needn't have worried.

I found this song on iTunes...
When Sam started year 6, I gave him my old computer. I had left all my music on there, but didn't really think he'd get into it. For a while he didn't, his friends were a big influence then, particularly in year six, and he got into bands like Fall Out Boy.
The first band he discovered in my old iTunes was The Living End. They have been his favourite band pretty much since then. I will talk about them another time.
After that, he'd come up to me every few days and say "I've found this song/band on iTunes that I really like", and we'd talk about the music. He'd tell me which songs he liked, I'd suggest more to listen to. They were some great conversations, and one of the things I'll miss the most (Woah, here come some tears).

The favourites?
By the time Sam died, he had a firm list of favourite bands. Led Zeppelin, Foo Fighters (those of you who are aware of my -slightly unhealthy- Dave Grohl obsession will know how proud that one made me!), Faith No More, Ben Folds and Powderfinger were ones he shared with me (among others), but there were also ones he went out and found on his own: Green Day (his other favourite), Metallica, Tenacious D, Rage Against the Machine, Wolfmother and Korn.

And a proud moment for me?
Samuel came home from school one day and told me his music teacher had said he had great taste in music. He said when she asked why he thought that was, he had said 'it's because of my mum'.

Sam at the Green Day Concert. A story for another day.

Crying

It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

Ok, so I'm going to tackle the subject of tears. I must admit that I have done a lot of thinking about crying and issues like what is the right amount, when is the right time, and who are the right people to cry around. But I haven't done much crying.

At first I thought there might actually be something wrong with me. I mean I'm the type of person who cries at a Huggies ad. Show me a good weepie and I'll be a mess. But tears for my boy? Not so much.

What is the "right" amount of tears?
Not long ago, I went to see a counsellor. One of the main things I asked her about was my lack of tears. Thankfully she told me that I was 'normal'. Other articles I read online (like this one, and this one) said things like "the tears will come" (which made me feel worse, because they haven't come yet, not in force anyway) and another said it was OK if I was dealing with my feelings in other ways (which I think I am).
Perhaps it's because Anthony cries a lot more than I do, but I just feel...I dunno...incompetent?

You mean you haven't cried at all?
No, I've definitely cried. On the day it happened I cried a lot. Today I cried. I had just finished an 'Aqua' class and was watching some teenagers muck around in the pool. I thought: Sam won't get to do that any more (or go to College, or have a girlfriend), and I cried right there in the pool. Just a few tears. And my face was wet, so nobody would have noticed.
That's something I should admit to, some of it is pride. When I do cry, it's generally alone, or with someone very close. Some it's definitely the fear of appearing weak, or not in control, some of it is not wanting to upset others, and some of it is doing it my way.
I definitely haven't cried as much as others, or, some would say, as much as "I should".
And sometimes I've really had to force (or prompt) it. I deliberately went and hired a bunch of 'sad' movies because I knew they'd make me cry. So far, so good - I've watched both "In Her Shoes" and "Marley and Me", and cried during both. Not normally movies I would seek out, but they were OK. The main reason I did that was because I was getting headaches every day. I know some of that is stress, but I had a feeling some of it was stored tears, and that I had to get rid of them. Perhaps it's quotes like these ones that got me started:

The sorrow which has no vent in tears may make other organs weep. ~Henry Maudsley

Tearless grief bleeds inwardly. ~Christian Nevell Bovee

And what would Sam think of all this?
I wouldn't say that Sam was an overly macho man in the making, but he was a typical teenaged boy and I reckon he would be decidedly uncomfortable with all this emotion on display. That thought is always in the back of my mind. He'd be saying "geeeez mum, stop bloody crying!" or try and tell a joke to cheer me up. That's the Sam I want to remember, the one who memorised half of The Family Guy (and could do the voices) and the one who said 'lol' instead of just texting it.


I said to my friend Ania today "I'd rather remember Sam and smile than remember him and cry". Hopefully it's as simple as that.


And finally, this is the lovely poem we received from good friends in a card in the days following Sam's death, which was read beautifully by Anthony's brother Christopher at Samuel's funeral (celebration of life). It's another nice way of looking at it.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

Mary Frye

How do you fill a hole?
Can you ever fill the hole left by the child you thought you'd see graduate from school, hopefully marry some nice girl, perhaps produce multiple grandchildren, and maybe even change the world?
When everything you've taken for granted (and not in a bad way, just in a 'nothing's going to get in the way of a normal life progression way) suddenly disappears, how do you adapt?

I know it's early days yet, and really, I can't be thinking too hard about adapting to this massive change in my life when, like I said, I still don't fully accept that it has happened. But that hasn't stop me adopting compulsive behaviours which, in the long run, are probably not going to be very good for me.

Lie down on the couch now miss...
I've got one of those addictive personalities. Actually, I think if I tried to analyse my personality my brain might well explode, but I do tend to get wrapped up in things very easily.
When I was younger, I smoked. I knew it was unhealthy, but I did it anyway. I've always eaten too much, particularly when stressed (there's a story for another day), and have, at various times, gotten too involved in eating, shopping, exercising, drinking too much and spending far too much time on the internet.

So when I found myself in a new world of pain and suffering, I turned to some of my old vices. I honestly think it was because I was trying to fill this great hole that had suddenly appeared in my life. Perhaps because I'm afraid of what will happen if I let the grief take over? Is that somewhere I want to go? Would I be able to return?

I have tried a few different things, unconsciously I think, with varying degrees of success:

Food - old faithful
I know I'm not the only person in the world with an eating problem. My problem is that I like food. So it was number one on the list of things I used for comfort. Needless to say I've packed on a few kilos. But, I've recognised now that it's really not helping, and while I know from experience it will take me a while to get back into good habits, at least I've acknowledged it.
Stay tuned for another exciting episode of 'Mel goes on a health kick!'

Alcohol
Is never going to be a big problem for me. I can say that with absolute certainty. However that hasn't stopped me from hooking in just a wee little bit over the past few weeks.
In the first week, I couldn't go near it. I wanted a clear head and had no desire at all to drink. After the funeral though, I didn't mind a drink or two. In fact in the first few days after the funeral I found that a small glass of whiskey (beautiful, old, expensive Japanese whiskey given to me by my lovely friend Dallas) was very therapeutic. I was getting (and still occasionally do get) terrible headaches - I think from a combination of stress, lack of sleep and stored tears - and a small glass helped me relax.
I've also had a few drinks with friends and family. We have had many more visitors than usual, and many of these visits have involved some kind of beverage consumption. Not that I mind of course, I've enjoyed the fantastic company!

Retail Therapy
Like almost every other woman on the planet (forgive my generalisation, girls!) I take great pleasure in buying stuff. For some people it's shoes, for others it's movies or CDs or clothes, for me it's, well, anything! I dearly love buying things for other people, but I don't mind buying things for me either. Funnily enough I don't have a particular item, I can get excited about anything from a nice pen to tea towels or a new bike (one of which I did buy with some money I had received for my birthday, and a very nice bike it is!)
In the past, if I was stressed or unhappy about something, a trip to the shops would generally put it right, or at least make me feel a bit better. I've been out a few times now, and I've gotta say it's not doing it for me any more. I just can't get into it like I used to, and in fact while I used to wander around, or go from shop to shop checking for the best price, I've found myself adopting the 'get in-find what you need-buy it-get out' policy more often than not.

The Internet
Well it was going to be pretty hard for me to write a blog without going on the interweb, but I am actually pretty surprised at how much I have not been overdoing it. One of my other personality flaws is chronic procrastination, and I have always used the web to avoid doing stuff. During report writing time is when I'm particularly active on Facebook. Gotta do some housework? There's a few new blogs I simply have to check out. You get the picture. I doesn't help that I'm a massive NERD!
But, as with the shopping thing, it wasn't doing it for me. At first I stopped Facebook all together, but then found out about Sam's group, so I had to go back on. But I've been fairly restrained in my usage.

Someone to talk to.
One thing that I have done on the internet is a bit of searching for support groups and like-minded people to talk to, but the results haven't been overly encouraging. Mostly because I wanted to be able to talk to people who know what I have been through. Don't get me wrong, I love talking to my friends and family, and they have been immensely comforting and supportive, this desire is at a different level. And I don't actually mind talking to strangers. Some people have a real problem with it, but I never have, provided we have something in common, something to talk about.
Sadly, I have not had much luck on this level. Oh, there have been a couple I have found - but on the whole, there wasn't much out there. Well, not in Australia anyway. One site I joined was a Legacy site. It's OK, but way too many religious types on there. I am an atheist, more so since Samuel left us (once again, another story for another day), and the last thing I want to see or hear is "I'm praying for you" or "God does these things for a reason". PIG'S ARSE he does!!!
(sorry, I will compose myself now. I don't begrudge anyone else the right to take comfort in whatever they need to take comfort in, but by gum I'm going to exercise my right to NOT believe).
There are some very lovely people on Essential Baby, a website/forum I joined many years ago when Oliver was born, and I have found some comfort there, but on the whole there's not much out there.

Which brings us to...
And so it's me out here in blogland, spouting my (whatever it is) out into the cyberverse, in the hope that if it doesn't mean something to someone else, it will at least make me feel better. So far, so good.

The first time my life changed

Bet you were a beautiful baby...
As you can see, Samuel was a cute baby. In fact, in the hospital they picked him to show to childcare students as an example of a perfect baby.
This is because he had a normal shaped head. Most babies that are squeezed out of a woman's nether regions are a bit squished around the skull when they come out, but because Samuel was delivered by cesarean (how on earth do you spell that word??) section, his head was perfect.

Whoops!
All the people that read this (so far) are likely to know this stuff, but I wanted to start at the beginning. Knowing me, things aren't likely to follow sequentially, but it's always good to start at the beginning don't you think?
Anthony and I met through a mutual friend (in fact I think it might have been my ex-boyfriend). We hung out for a while and then one day in late November 1994 we 'hooked up'.
At first I was a little resistant, but he wore me down, and by my 21st birthday in December, we were 'an item'. Being the talented woodworker that he is, made me a beautiful clock for my birthday, which would still be hanging on the wall if the hands hadn't fallen off. Ah, we'll get around to fixing it sometime...
Anyway, one of the very first things Anthony said was that he was not going to have any more kids. He'd just come out of a difficult breakup involving a child (one that we do get to see now and then, which is nice), and was hurting. I was happy with that, I was 21 and still a party animal. I had plans to travel and make lots of money before I even began to consider children.
Early in 1995 I had my wisdom teeth out. One thing I didn't pay much attention to was the warning that anesthetic and anti-biotics could interfere with the effectiveness of the contraceptive pill. So before you could say "what's a good test of a relationship in its early stages?", I was pregnant.
I remember the day I found out for sure. I went to the local clinic because I didn't want to face my GP. They confirmed I was 11 weeks pregnant while Anthony sat in the car waiting for me. Needless to say I was nervous about his reaction.
"Oh well, we'll just have to give it a go then," he said. No freaking out, no screaming, just wonderful, supportive Anthony.
Thankfully my parents had a similar reaction. A little freaked I guess, but they hid it well.

But you weren't going to make it easy
(warning, gross descriptions of birth and labour to follow)
The pregnancy went pretty well, considering we were young and dumb and, well, broke. We moved in together and started putting together a home. We got along well, and it all seemed cool. I was a little worried that Sam was due on the 29th of February (how do people deal with having a birthday only every 4 years?), but I needn't have been.
I started my labour in the evening of the 4th of March. I rang the hospital but they said I didn't have to worry. I went to bed and endured my contractions. Not text book contractions that start 30 minutes apart and get closer together, but strong pain every 5 minutes.
Early the next morning I got up to go to the loo, then my waters broke. That was when we went to the hospital. Sally arrived not long afterwards.
I knew it wasn't going to go well when they gave me some nitrous oxide and I barfed. It wasn't long after that they decided I needed a c-section. There was some fetal distress and I wasn't dilating, so they decided to put me under. I gave Anthony strict instructions not to tell anyone about the baby until I knew, then went to the operating theatre.
When I woke up a couple of hours later, Anthony handed me a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. I assumed that it was a girl (how conditioned are we??), but soon found out it wasn't. That was the day I fell in love.

Parenthood and making a life together
I wasn't a soft, fluffy earth mother. Not by any means. I had a bit of PND and was generally not nice to be around, but Anthony stuck around anyway, giving up his job to stay at home with Sam. I went back to work at the cinema, and he started his business (making and restoring furniture) between nappy changes and bottle feeding.
We eventually got fed up with the rental thing, and went to live in the granny flat behind my parent's house. It wasn't too bad (if not a little squishy), and it did give us a chance to save for our first house. Two days after Sam's 2nd birthday, we moved into our current home. We've been there ever since.


On reflection?
I think it's safe to say that we weren't ready for parenthood, but instead of turning tail, we had a good go at it, and made a life for ourselves. I often wonder (frequently out loud to anyone who'll listen) where I would be now if I hadn't had Sam. There are two possibilities:

• I would have pursued my ambitions to make movies and become a rich, famous movie star/director (or perhaps bit-part actor in a series of terrible Aussie TV shows);or

• Failed to make anything of myself and ended up a burnt out, dope smoking, hard drinking party animal, working as a roadie for some obscure band (or perhaps still in the cinema industry).

Either way, I probably wouldn't have been nearly as happy and fulfilled as I was being a parent. It's hard, it's draining, it's expensive, dirty and heartbreaking (especially at the moment), but it's wonderful.

So thanks to Samuel I grew up a bit quicker than I might have, changed my wicked ways and bought a house (luckily when house prices were much lower).
There are other great things I did because of Sam. But that's a story for another day...