Well.. once again I strayed away from my virtual sanctuary. For good reason though I promise... we are understaffed at work an therefore there are more hours to be filled by all others. What does this mean? Mucho overtime.. on top of the 60 hour work weeks I'm taking 2 online classes. Oh and raising a husband *wink* did I mention keeping the dog from eating the cats head? So yes.. at the end of the day--rather then study the nutritional values of this that or the other.. or solve for x,y or z I have decided to blog! So i'm just gonna give y'all an update on what's going on. And that same instant hopefully sort through the cluster of thoughts rummaging through my extremely flooded brain.. sooo bear (or bare?) with me...
PS prepare for long winded-ness run on sentences and crappy grammer.. there's much to tell.. and as always its raw and real and my reality
Lately I have been having a lot of dreams. Not just any dream though. Dreams about Savanna. Most would say.. well that's wonderful! But in one moment I love that I dream of her, and in the next I hate it. Or do I just hate that I have to wake up to the shitty reality? Hmm.. maybe a bit of both? Anywho, after she died I prayed and I prayed for a dream of her. I begged God to allow visions of her to come to my mind. I was having so much trouble at that time remembering all the good, instead I had the terror images of tubes and caskets and marker stones in my minds eye. (in afterthough I think He knew I wasn't quite ready to handle the dreams yet) I'm not sure how long it was before I finally had a dream about S, but it was always the same. She started off dead in my dream, then she would come back to life. It was a miracle, but in my dream it was some what of a norm. I remember that in each dream I would run to her, someone else would be holding her.. but it was like we were in one of the fun houses with the wacked out mirrors. Only this wasn't fun. She was always just out of reach. It was always different people, in different locations at different times of the day. She was always wearing the ducky pj's we buried her in.. so I'm guessing this was subconscience bringing to the forefront of my mind my reality. She would always be as close to my heart as could be, but never in arms length any longer.
Eventually those dreams stopped. Part of me was grateful.. waking up with the voided bleeding hole became emotionally draining. that same feeling of knowing she was so close but out of reach brought back the moments of when I first saw her laying in her casket. Her casing, but not her.
Fast forward to several months later. These last couple weeks Savanna has sparkled her way back into my dreams. but this time much differently. Again she starts out gone in the dreams, but somehow a miracle happens and she's alive. In one of the dreams I think out loud.. I wonder if she remembers me. And in the same moment those thoughts dribbled through my mind I look down at the dining room floor and there she is. Sitting there playing in the dirt from the plant.. (go figure.. it's totally how she was!) I called her name, fingers crossed, breath held, body filled with tension hoping she would remember who I was.. she looks up at me and I see those beautiful blue eyes, and slowly her lips spread into a wide and toothless grin. The recollection and connection that only a mother and their child can share. I was able to scoop her up and I remember just holding her so tightly. Kissing her all over her little face trying to remember all her little details and then in my dream I realize I'm only in a dream. So I squeeze her longer and as hard as I could and then I wake up. This dream has happened several times.. sometimes she's in her crib, sometimes on the floor, sometimes in her bouncer. But always she will smile at me, I will scoop her up.. and then BAM the realization that it's only a dream.
I'm not sure if it means anything or if my subcon is just pulling forth what I've wanted it to for so long. And now that I have it.. I'm not sure I want it anymore. I wak up feeling empty and sad. Just wishing for one more moment with her. Wishing I could wake up and walk into her room and see her curled up in her bed. For now, I guess, I will take it for what it is.. I will ry to cherish these moments.. even if they're just imaginary.. for now that's all I got.
PACKING IT UP
Savanna's stuff. Her clothes. Her bibs. Her shoes. Blankets. Burp cloths. Diapers. Wipes. Toys. Bouncer. Boppy. Bumbo. Diaper bag. Hats.. etc. etc. et-freaking-cetera. It's all been piled up in her room since the day she died. The Friday that she passed, I asked one of my friends to come to the house and put all her stuff in her room. I couldn't bare to look at it. The thought of just coming into the house without her was painful enough. I didn't think I could look at the high chair she just sat in and ate breakfast a mere 10 hours earlier. Or the Pack N Play she peacefully napped in the day before as she spent a day off with daddy. The blankets sprawled on the floor she first learned to roll and crawl. The thought of that.. seeing that.. remembering those memories but only having a purple box and not her with us? It just didn't seem bearable.
Then her room just started to become a storage. As we collected things from her funeral.. they floated their way into her room. I hardly ever went in there unless I absolutely had to. And sure it killed me to walk in there knowing she wasn't there, but more then anything I wanted to savor her smell. It was the only plausible thing I could physically 'grab' onto besides a picture. It was a way I could still feel like she somehow lived on. It was also a reminder through those trecherous waters that she was real. It took me 3 months before I even took the dirty diapers out of the diaper genie. Call me weird or gross.. but anything that made me remember she was real, I kept. All her bears and stuffed animals, bows and ribbons from her funeral and memorial service were all tucked away into her room. Dirty clothes still in the hamper, bows hanging on the walls, her indention from her head still on the pillow. Besides the things added to the room, nothing had been changed. The last sheets and blanket she slept on still tucked away at the crib. The baby monitor still in its place. Clothes hung in the closet, clothes still in the dresser, diapers still in their specific spot. All where it should be. Everything where it was supposed to be had she still been here. Only she isn't here.
We hope to continue to grow our family again one day. And in order for me, myself and I to feel like I could really grasp the concept of possibly having another child one day.. I felt that I had to pack up. It was something that had been nagging at me, heavy on my heart. A piece of the puzzle that needed to be sealed. There is no time frame, no right or wrong way to do it. But for me in my personal journey I felt like this is what I needed to do to try and somehow continue to move forward. To somehow maybe slow the quaking ground a little more and possibly shy the shadows even further into their darkness so that the light may be able to shine just a tad bit brighter.
So I went to Wal-mart and bought pink storage bins. I saw them and immediately thought they were very fitting. My very best friend T came over to assist me. I knew I couldn't do it alone, J was at work. I wasn't sure what to expect or how I was going to react. I imagined myself curling up into a very small ball holding all of her things and bawling. Only that didn't happen. Instead.. as we went through the clothes that she had grew out of, I was able to share memories. As I pulled out her little shoes and hats, happy times came to mind. I pulled out the hat that she wore the day she died, and instead of picturing her lifeless in the ER room, I was able to picture her that morning with her sweet smile. And as i pulled all of the things off of her crib and finally took the blanket and sheet off a wonderful and glorious thing happened. The room that had started to fade of her smell.. had an instantaneous blast. It was as if all the things sitting atop the covers had held in her scent. T and I both looked at each other and just smiled. I knew this was her, cheering me on and supporting me. Letting me know it was OK to move forward. It doesn't mean I'm moving on without her. Even in the smallest of movements, the teensiest of an action she is somewhere nearby. It will never be in the way I desire or want, but I'll take what I can get. So we finished packing her things up, I placed it all in the closet. And closed the door. I dusted off the empty dresser, ran my finger through the spokes of the empty crib, and took down the pillow off the vacant diaper changer. With eyes filled with tears, a heart breaking once again, I was somehow filled with hope.
I had made it this far. And I will keep on going. Because I've said it before and I'll say it again... she is SO worth it.