Thy Will Be Done...

I'm so confused

I know I heard you loud and clear...

Heather was my "surprise" from God. It took me all of 30 seconds to come to grips with the idea I was having another baby so soon. It was never any other options for me than to welcome this baby with open arms and an open heart. Heather was very stubborn and head strong; a quality she got from me I am sure. 

Heather mumbled and talked very low so you could hardly understand her. She could never be rushed; if you did try to hurry her along she would just go slower. The only two times she was ever in a hurry was her birth and her death. Both I am very thankful for. She even as a child was kind and tender hearted, although I am sure that her sisters might have a few different stories to tell. In school, Heather, had the desire and competition to excel in everything and be the top student. 

I will never understand why at the end of 1st grade a group of boys decided to beat her up on the playground at recess. She was crying and on the ground and the only little girl that came to help her was Ashley. The next day, Ashely was hit and killed in the street after school. I took Heather to Ashley's funeral and to my surprise she was a little colored girl. The purest part of Heather is that she didn't see color, ever, and she was heartbroken and never ever forgot Ashley. 

So, I followed through

Somehow I ended up here...

It is odd, that with each passing year as a mother our fears for our child begin to get smaller. The biggest ones when they are babies is that they will die from SIDS or some other illness. As they get to the elementary age we get a false sense that all is okay. Things can still happen but with each passing day you forget and just live. You are so busy with school and events that life just moves along quickly.

When Heather was in 5th grade she was being harassed by a fellow classmate that was threatening to harm Heather. She was scared and felt this to be a real concern. After meetings with the school and many others; no solution could be reached and I pulled her out of public school to begin homeschooling her in October, 1998. On April 20th, 1999 Columbine happened. Heather would comment over the years that she felt that could have been her. I think we as a nation began to take notice to the school violence around the country. (Who would have guessed Heather would die on the 10th anniversary of Columbine)

Then comes the teen ages and all the fear comes back. Everything from driving to drinking and drugs to random violence can happen.My false security that my girls were nearly grown and nothing could really happen began to take over after Heather learned to drive and got several jobs. She had made it! For all the worries and concerns she made it! She was kind, giving and tenderhearted. Heather was the type to give all her coworkers a gift for Christmas simply because she felt like it, or drop everything to go help a friend who was sick.

I don't wanna think

I may never understand

That my broken heart is a part of your plan...

April 10th, 2008 came and my world suddenly hit a brick wall. Somehow it has become a speeding train going over 200mphwhen it hit a solid rock mountain and came crashing down to the ground. We were put into an alternate universe I didn't understand. Words, procedures, hospital stays and cancer, cancer, CANCER invaded my safe, happy world. Heather was classified as stage-4 of two forms of very aggressive blood cancer, ALL-Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia and LBL-non-Hodgkin's T-cell Lymphoblastic Lymphoma. The cancer was consuming her daily. On that day we were told she had about 6 weeks if we had not gotten treatments. When we began we were not sure if she would go into remission. That would mean waiting for another 30 days to even know if the treatments were working.

On that day, I was prepared that Heather would die. I tried to prepare my heart to that fact my daughter was going to die. You can never prepare regardless of how sick they are. NOTHING prepares you for the moment when your child takes their last breath.

Then, Heather went into remission and all seemed right with the world. We had been hit with the worst and survived. Heather survived. Cancer came and we kicked it's butt and the world was different but right once again. 

When I try to pray

All I've got is hurt 

And these four words

Thy will be done

Thy will be done

Thy will be done...

Till my dying day I will NEVER, EVER, EVER understand why Heather survived 5 months of chemo, breezed thru 8 rounds of hyperCVAD with no compilations and not one single infection; to spike a fever, go into ICU and have the last 33 days that she did. My broken heart could not have been part of God's plan. Heather dying could not have been part of His plan. I wasn't prepared for the 33 days in ICU and I would give those back, every last one of them. During that time I prayed over and over and over and over and over and over for God to heal her, for God to make her whole and well, for God's will to be done and in the end His will was done. He did not seem to answer the way I wanted and begged and pleaded Him too.

I know you're good

But this don't feel good, right now...

I know God had a plan even thought I do not see it and I will never understand it. But this, Heather being gone doesn't feel good, right now and I doubt it ever will. Many people have told me to "move on," or to "get over it." Well, I can't and I won't. My daughter, Heather, lived and had a life and was a part of my world. So which one of your kids do you want to give back?

Lets play a game, imagine your daughter or son is just suddenly gone. The child you loved so much and you planned a future with. This was the child, lets say Ashley, Amanda, Sarah, John, Sam, Kris (insert your child's name here) that you had many fun vacations with and lots of past holidays and birthdays. This child is suddenly GONE! Not alive, not breathing, just gone and void. All you want to do is keep their memory alive, make sure that someone remembers that your child lived and was a human being on this planet. You have to talk about your child like any other parent would. Only you are different, your child is dead. When you are in a social setting and you mention your child's name the room goes quiet and suddenly you feel bad for mentioning your own child, remembering a fun moment or a treasured memory. The child you loved so much is now the one who must not be named or mentioned as it makes people uncomfortable. People are afraid you, as a grieving mother, will burst into a pile of sobbing mess not the floor and they are afraid. They also don't want to imagine what you have survived, because it down right sucks and is hard.

It hurts that I can't talk about Heather. I hurts that I can't mention her around people and certain groups. I am hiding the real me and pretending to be someone I am not. I have become very good at spotting the people I can be real with and the ones I cannot. I don't like putting on the mask and making small talk. I don't like being made to feel bad for simply mentioning my child's name who died. Heather will forever more be the elephant in the room.

And I know you think

Of things I could never think about

It's hard to count it all joy

Distracted by the noise

Just trying to make sense

Of all your promises...

Sometimes I gotta stop

Remember that you're God

And I am not...

I know what my mind says that Heather was sparred the endless worrying that her cancer would come back, or that she would get a secondary cancer from the harsh drugs that were used. Heather would not have wanted to do treatments again, or a bone marrow transplant.

We had no way of knowing that the chemo drug used to switch her DNA was toxic to her. It damaged her lungs beyond repair and she would have to have a double lung transplant in order to survive. Heather would not have wanted to have been limited on her routine because of daily medications she would have had to take.

What if when she collapsed her lung for the third time, was down for an hour and deprived of oxygen, she had survived? She would be in a disabled state of some degree. I see young people in wheeled chairs that can't move or speak and I am thankful that is not Heather. Heather would not have wanted to live in a reduced state for the rest of her life.

I will admit that there are moments when I say that I would take her in any form. The selfish side of me wants her here in any way, shape or form. That is my side, I long to hear her voice, see her eyes and smell the sweet aroma of perfume for her skin. I want to hold her and touch her and kiss her again. My arms ache, hurt and long to hold her again. I dream of how different life would be if she were still here. All the family gathering would be different and her family, that should have been here, would be here.

I know you see me

I know you hear me, Lord...

Your plans are for me

Goodness you have in store...

So, thy will be done

Thy will be done

Thy will be done...

It is been just over 7 years I can say the hurt and pain has changed and it doesn't hurt nearly as badly as it did in the beginning, but the hurt and pain are not gone. It has changed and become something different. I am surviving but the "missing her" gets greater with each passing day. There are days when missing her is all I can do and my heart hurts so badly I swear it will break in two. I want Heather here, alive, happy, well and back to normal which I know can never happen. I don't know why I was chosen to have my daughter die at the age of 21 years old. I didn't ask for this and I certainly did not see this in the plan for my life. I know that all things work to His good but my heart does not see the goodness in cancer or Heather's death. 

I am in a discriminated group of people as I am not allowed to be me. I have to put on the mask that everything is okay and my heart has been mended and I forgot Heather and I am "over that little part" of my life. I am here to say I am not over it and I will not be getting over it anytime soon. Till my dying day I will tell stories about Heather and I will celebrate her birth and death days. No mother should ever bury her child. It is a heart ache that never ends. I just know very well now who I can share with and who I cannot. Sharing, my Heather is a gift that other people can receive if they allow it. Getting to hear stories about my Heather is a privilege, not a punishment as she is true a remarkable woman.

Can I still have fun? Yes, I can and I do. I still take vacations and we have fixed up the house and life is moving forward. I can talk about many other things too but there is a chance that Heather will be mentioned. I am not "stuck in my grief" and I don't need to break free of the "ball and chain of death." But Heather is a part of my life and world that is never going to go away. Not as long as I have breath in my body.

Like a child on my knees all that comes to me is

Thy will be done

Thy will be done

Thy will be done

I know you see me

I know you hear me, Lord

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp4WC_YZAuw

I implore you to watch the video and listen to the words and really let them soak in. This song has become hugely personal to me and my walk as a grieving mother.

"This is something that is still not talked about very often,” said Lady Antebellum's Hillary Scott. “I also feel like there’s this pressure that you’re just supposed to be able to snap your fingers and continue to walk through life like it never happened.”

However, she has chosen to cope with the pain through her music, in a heartfelt hymn that just pierces straight through the soul. In her song “Thy Will,” Scott speaks for all of us who have ever walked through heartbreak or tragedy when she says, “I may never understand that my broken heart is a part of your plan.”

“I wrote this song in the middle of experiencing everything that comes with a miscarriage, so it was my most raw place that I could have ever been when this song poured out of me,” she shared.

Father's Day...

Father's Day is a celebration honoring fathers and celebrating fatherhood, paternal bonds, and the influence of fathers in society. Many countries celebrate it on the third Sunday of June, though it is also celebrated widely on other days by many other countries.

Grace Golden Clayton may have been inspired by Anna Jarvis' work to establish Mother's Day; two months prior, Jarvis had held a celebration for her dead mother in Grafton, West Virginia, a town about 15 miles (24 km) away from Fairmont.

After Anna Jarvis' successful promotion of Mother's Day in Grafton, West Virginia, the first observance of a "Father's Day" was held on July 5, 1908, in Fairmont, West Virginia, in the Williams Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church South, now known as Central United Methodist Church. Grace Golden Clayton was mourning the loss of her father when, on December 1907, the Monongah Mining Disaster in nearby Monongah killed 361 men, 250 of them fathers, leaving around a thousand fatherless children. Clayton suggested her pastor Robert Thomas Webb to honor all those fathers.

In 1910, a Father's Day celebration was held in Spokane, Washington, at the YMCA by Sonora Smart Dodd, who was born in Arkansas. Its first celebration was in the Spokane YMCA on June 19, 1910. Her father, the civil war veteran William Jackson Smart, was a single parent who raised his six children there. After hearing a sermon about Jarvis' Mother's Day in 1909 at Central Methodist Episcopal Church, she told her pastor that fathers should have a similar holiday honoring them. Although she initially suggested June 5, her father's birthday, the pastors did not have enough time to prepare their sermons, and the celebration was deferred to the third Sunday of June. Several local clergymen accepted the idea, and on June 19, 1910, the first Father's Day, "sermons honoring fathers were presented throughout the city."

A bill to accord national recognition of the holiday was introduced in Congress in 1913. In 1916, President Woodrow Wilson went to Spokane to speak in a Father's Day celebration and wanted to make it official, but Congress resisted, fearing that it would become commercialized. US President Calvin Coolidge recommended in 1924 that the day be observed by the nation, but stopped short of issuing a national proclamation. Two earlier attempts to formally recognize the holiday had been defeated by Congress. In 1957, Maine Senator Margaret Chase Smith wrote a proposal accusing Congress of ignoring fathers for 40 years while honoring mothers, thus "[singling] out just one of our two parents". In 1966, President Lyndon B. Johnson issued the first presidential proclamation honoring fathers, designating the third Sunday in June as Father's Day. Six years later, the day was made a permanent national holiday when President Richard Nixon signed it into law in 1972.

By the mid-1980s, the Father's Council wrote that Father's Day has become a Second Christmas for all the men's gift-oriented industries."

I honestly can't really remember doing anything for my Daddy, Jim Blake, for Father's Day till I was married. Sadly, I only had a few years before he died. This man was my whole entire world from the moment we met. It was a snowy morning in Farmington, New Mexico, December 18, 1965, when Jim received a phone call that would change his life forever. The lady on the other end was from the Colorado Adoption Agency, calling from Denver, Colorado. She asked Jim if he was sitting down as they had a baby girl ready for adoption and would he and his wife like to fly up to take a look at her. Jim, the jokester that he was, ask her if she was pulling his leg as the snow had been falling all morning and the town was shut down. He told her yes and that he would call around for flights, getting back to her shortly with when they could be there. Jim and Jo Beth flew to Denver on December 19, and were all set to see the baby girl the next morning at the adoption agency. 

Jim and Jo Beth arrived at 9am where they met with the case worker in her office to hear the specific of this baby girl. After a short amount of time, that Jim said he felt like it was forever, they were escorted to a door that led to the room where there was a crib containing a baby girl. They were told to go look at her, play with her and spend all the time needed to see if she would be a fit for them. Time was no matter they had all day and more meetings could be arranged. 

The story I have been told my entire life was that my Daddy walked over, took one look at me, turned around and told the case worker to "get my daughter ready to go!" The lady asked if he was sure and he told her 100% sure. My Daddy had picked out my name, Sherry Anne, he had picked out my dress and ironed it for the trip home. Then, I am not sure about when they were actually able to leave Denver, if it was later that same day or the next. Regardless, he didn't let me out of his sight for long. Jo Beth was not able to stand or walk and carry me because of her sickly nature. During the airport stay before the flight home I needed my diaper changed. My Daddy said he found two stewardess that were going to the ladies room. He ask them if they could change me and of course they fell in love with me. He said he stood right outside that door and took me the moment they came out.

some of our first moments together

The adoption records I received enlightened me to why my Daddy was my whole world. He took care of me from day one and I was his whole world. As a small child of 4 or 5, Jim, had been left with his younger sister on the train tracks to die in East Texas. It was thought that he would never be placed with a family because he was so sick. When he was about 6 years old he was adopted by the Blake family and under their care he thrived. He told me many times that if he never was known for anything other than being my Daddy then he had done enough and that was his only plan to be on this earth.

Sadly, I never got a chance to say good bye to my Daddy. He was in ICU and went downhill in 24 hours after being taken off the vent he was on. He was doing good till his body had enough and just failed. I was pregnant with Wendy and we lived in Colorado Springs, which was an 8 hour drive. When we got the news that we need to come as fast as we could it was right during a Colorado blizzard. I had been praying the whole time that he would survive till I got there till I realized that the next day was his second wife's birthday. I then prayed that he would survive till the day after or that he would die that night, that I didn't have to say goodbye. As irony would have it, my beloved Daddy died while we were driving home at almost the exact moment of me giving up the fact that I did not have to make it home. The good Lord knew, at that time, I was not strong enough to see him in ICU with all the tubes and machines. 

I went to the funeral home and my step mother's sister made me walk in and see my Daddy from a distance in the casket. He looking nothing like that same man we had left just 16 days before. My knees buckled and I grabbed the pew arm and immediately sat down. Of course with me being 7 months pregnant was a huge concern to everyone. I was fine, I just promised myself that I would never see that again and was not going to stay for the "family" viewing after the service. The day of the funeral it was the biggest snow storm Farmington, New Mexico had seen. It was so white and cold and the flakes were huge. My Daddy, because of later health issues, was not able to be out in the cold and snow. I thought to myself that it was a sign as he could be in any weather now. The girls did not go as they were too little and would never have understood. 

So in death, as in life, you need to find humor in the situation. So, one necessary thing I forgot was my dress shoes, so Bill took me into town to get shoes prior to the funeral. The next event happened right at the end of the service. So picture if you will we are packed into the second row on the left side of the chapel and I am the third person in from the aisle and the fifth or sixth person from the outer aisle. The service was over and the director misunderstood what we had asked him to do. There was not supposed to be a public viewing at the end so imagine my shocked thoughts as the men began to move the flowers to raise the lid. I absolutely panicked and had to leave right now. I could not get out fast enough and I was so afraid I would see what I didn't want too. I stood up and I leapt over the five or so people to get to the outer aisle and ran out of the chapel. I never looked back. Of course as people came out they all wanted to know if I was okay as I had made quite the show at the end. It is not every day you see a pregnant women do a superman impression.

10th birthday, Easter, 1986-Jenn

My Daddy was the first and at the time the most significant death of my life. It had really just been me and my Daddy for so long I was lost without him. I have spent 27 Father's Day's without him and that is just too many. I was too young and my girls were too young not to have Jim in our world. One of the most amazing things was that Heather was 2 at the time of her Grampaw's death but she remembered playing with him during christmas when we were home. I honestly thought that she was simply remembering something I had told her till she enlightened me one day. We had been talking about my Daddy and Heather was asking some questions. She told me she remembered him, she remembered playing with him. I told her she was too young and there was no way she could remember him. Heather asked me about several questions about that event and told her yes that was there or happened. I was shocked when she told me she played boogie boogie with Grampaw. I stopped and asked her what she was talking about. She then gave me in great detail about Grampaw trying to tickle her and saying "boogie boogie" to her as she would get close to him. I had never told her about this game. I was given a small gift that somehow in some way Heather did remember her Grampaw.

The Bag in the Corner...

Each time Heather went into the hospital or the ATU for blood products I had my "crochet bag" with me. It always had a current project along with the baggie of Jolly Ranchers, Starbursts and gum. This was to help Heather with the nasty taste in her mouth during saline flushed in her PICC line. There was nothing really special about this bag other than it was a Disneyland bag I had purchased several years before. It was a simple black bag with Disney characters stitched it but it came to be known as the ready bag. It was always packed with supplies and by the door so we could grab it and go at a moments notice.

Disneyland bag with my crochet projects in it. The last one in this photo

This is the same bag that I took to the hospital during Heather's last stay and it sat in the corner behind my chair in her ICU room for several weeks. I had finished a baby blanket during the beginning days and I began another afghan with no one in mind for it. I had thought that I would make the staff in ICU afghans like I had done for the 6 South staff but for some reason I was never able to follow thru with making "thank you" afghans for them. Not, that I wasn't grateful for what they had done for Heather, it was just it didn't end happy. I did make baby afghans for our special, Racheal, when her girls were born. But no one else and I have no real idea why I didn't.

So I began a very simple ripple pattern that I could drop off and then pick up working on it again with no issues. It was in a dark eggplant, with a variegated seafood green, lavender, blue and cream and then a solid cream colored skeins of yarn. For days I worked on this and Heather watched me crocheting. This would be the last afghan I started and worked on while she was alive. The days turned to weeks but when I had moments alone in the room with Heather I would work on this afghan. Sunday, when Dr. Zachariah told us there was no hope, the bag sat in the corner for the next almost two days. Monday night, April 20th, I packed up Heather's ICU room. I took down the photos off the door, placed her gifts she had been given into a box and picked up the Disney bag in the corner with my afghan in it and took it to my Xterra. When I brought all the things home I placed the Disney bag in the closet and didn't touch it for over three years.

I was cleaning out things in one of my "lets go thru things and purge" phase when I came across the black Disney bag. I took the bag out and thought I would look to see how much more work was needed to finish the afghan I had begun a lifetimes ago. I was shocked to figure out that only 12 rows were needed for it to finished. I had all the yarn so why in the world could I have just left this and let it sit for over 3 years. This wa snot like me to allow projects to go unfinished. So, I picked up the bag, brought it downstairs, took out the ripple afghan, hook and yarn and began working on this once again. It was painful but also healing to finish this afghan. 

This is how much 12 rows is...

I thought I was crazy in the fact that I really didn't have any desire to give or gift this afghan to anyone. I didn't have a use for it myself, as it really wasn't my colors and I had no one, absolutely no one in mind for this afghan. So I placed it in the blanket closet along with the other two afghans I had made Heather and just let it sit. I had talked to Jenn and told her I didn't know if I could give that afghan away to anyone. She had a project she worked on during ICU and she felt the same way. Not that Heather would have wanted it, it was just the last thing I began when she was alive. It had meaning to me and I just didn't want to let go of one more little piece of Heather, so it sat.

Here is the afghan all finished

Last year, 2015, Bill and I took a 10-day Disney cruise to Hawaii, with a couple days stay at Disney's resort, Aulani. I had joined a Facebook group for the cruise and had met some really wonderful people. We had been "chatting and posting" with each other for almost a year before the cruise that began in September. One of the posts, on the curse page, was a video from Maryanna and David. I watched the video of David ringing the bell to announce his completing his treatment for cancer. I was mad and angry and hurt and mad. I was so mad at that video that I could not post a comment and I didn't the "like" button either. I had never met Maryanna or David but I had very strong feelings of jealousy. I wanted it to be Heather that rang the bell and Heather that survived. It was nothing personal, just I wanted the good ending and not the one I need up with.

Maryanna and David ringing the bell in Cleveland

The port hole to the Disney Wonder on sailing day

A few weeks later someone had commented again on Maryanna's video and the post had come up fresh in my newsfeed on Facebook. This time when I saw it I had a "feeling" I needed to private message Maryanna and explain why I didn't comment. It wasn't like this was a small group and I have no doubt that Maryanna and David had no idea who I was or if I commented on their video. I began a message and then deleted it thinking I would sound like a crazy woman. But, I had a small voice that kept telling me I needed to message Maryanna. So one evening I messaged her, but little did we know that how that one message was soon to build a bond between us that no one ever dreamed possible.

The Princess is ready to set sail...

Our cabin door decorated and our FE gift extender

I began by saying I was happy for their video, but that I couldn't post because my daughter had died from cancer. Maryanna messaged me back and immediately began asking me about Heather. She told me she understood my feelings and we began messaging back and forth. The cruise got closer and I could hardly wait to meet all these people and new friends I had made on Facebook, but I especially wanted to meet David and Maryanna and we wanted to give hugs and just meet face to face.

Pirate night, AAARRRRRR!

One would think with 5 days at sea that you would get to meet and chat with everyone on the ship, but that is not the case. All to soon we were heading into ports, did some island hopping and then the cruise was over. I knew that this cruise was special and I had gained so many new, wonderful friends. When I call these people my friends, I mean true friends. The kind that drop things to call or send a card, the kind that think of you and send packages of things they "saw it and thought of you" sort of friends. This group on Facebook still have a very active page and many of our group have met for dinners, gone on other cruises together and still chat on a regular basis.

King Kamehamehaon, Hilo

Oh yeah! Helicopter ride over the island of Nawiliwili

A beach at Kahului

Let me begin by saying that Maryanna and David are two of the kindest, nicest, sweetest people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I wanted nothing but blue skies and smooth sailing for them as they celebrated David's retirement, but the happily ever after only lives in fairy tales and not in the real world I am sad to say. My dear friends were an hour or two away from setting sail on a Panama Canal cruise when their world was turned upside down. They received a phone call with the news that their daughter, Marysusan, had cancer; and that major surgery with treatments need to begin right away. Maryanna and David were not able to get a flight that day but some great cruise friends were right there to pick them up and take care of them till they could change their plans and get home.

Hawaiian sunset at Aulani 

Maryanna and Sherry

Let me begin my saying the worst words in the world are "your daughter has cancer!" and it doesn't matter the age. In that moment this dear sweet family, both their daughters and their 6 grand babies became survivors. Their life is forever changed and turned upside down. NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING is small or simple anymore. Suddenly, Maryanna and I were living the same mother's worst nightmare. We needed to fight for our daughter's lives. Things with cancer are never simple and straightforward. Mothers have very basis protective instincts about our babies and with cancer nothing is in your control. You stand by and watch and so desperately want to take all the hurt and pain and sickness away. You would gladly give your life to save your child's life.

Marysusan, was diagnosed with ovarian cancer that had spread. The surgery that she had ended with complications and chemo had to be postponed. She has been in and out of the hospital with multiple surgeries, complications and chemo. Not only is she given chemo thru her chest port but she also has a port in her abdomen and currently is receiving chemo thru both. Words cannot begin to describe how cancer in its most basic form effects a whole family, let alone a major form of cancer with not so routine complications that come up.

In the very beginning all I knew was David and Maryanna. I was and still am determined to show my love and support for them the best way I know how. To say that Maryanna and I are "connected" doesn't even begin to describe the kindred spirit we seem to share. I have tried at every turn and twist to be a support and encouragement to Maryanna and the whole family. An example of our connection happened right before Christmas. I was supposed to be cleaning off the dining room table for Christmas dinner when I "got a feeling" I needed to make something for Maryanna. I sat down at my embroidery machine and created a teal ribbon lace angel. Teal is the ribbon color for Ovarian cancer. I made one and I thought I was done for the night when the "feeling" told me I need to make one for each family, so a total of 3 ribbon lace angels. As I begin to make the second angel the "feeling" came to me that I needed to make everyone in the family one so a total of 12. I had no way of knowing that very night Maryanna was having a bad night dealing with friends that just don't understand the journey. 

Teal Ribbon lace angels-when in warm water the angels stand alone

I know some people who don't believe in "heavenly visits" from our loved ones that have died. I have experienced three such visits and each time they were very clear with the message and it involved Heather each time. I had one such "visit" concerning Marysusan. I shared this with Maryanna and she didn't feel me crazy. Marysusan was sitting on a park bench reading under a shade tree. I was watching from a distance when Heather comes closer to the bench towards Marysusan. I make eye contact with Heather and ask her if she has come to take Marysusan. Heather shakes her head no. I repeated this visit nearly the exact same way three times during the same night. Since that moment I have felt "connected' to Marysusan in a special way. 

Then I was standing in Walmart looking at yarn and another " feeling" came over me and I had to make Maryanna an afghan. I am not sure why the colors came to me as I feel it is a stretch for the color makeup of her house. But the feeling never wavered. I then began working on an afghan for Marysusan. I didn't really have a "feeling" but i liked what I was making. I am about 2/3 done with this afghan and I really like it. However, another feeling "came over" me and this plan was changed. My special" connection" with Marysusan was about to leave no doubt in my mind.

Maryanna with the afghan I made her-a long distance hug

Last week I decided to print this blog. I create a book to have a hard copy of the posts just in case something every happens to the blog. I had not printed a book for 3 years and I forgot the format of the other two books I created. I happened to pick up the second book and was thumbing thru the pages looking at post blogs. I passed the blog where I wrote about the bag in the corner of the room and the afghan I had begun. In that moment the "feeling" HIT ME! I had not been thinking about this afghan and honestly had not seen it for a couple of years. I had to send this to Marysusan. I put the idea out of my head with the thought that "I was already making her one and this was crazy." I went that whole afternoon and the thought never left my mind. I talked to Jenn about it and told her what I wanted to do with it and she agreed it was meant to be. I thought I was crazy but I decided to take a photo and message Marysusan and ask her if she liked the colors. I was surprised when she told me those were her all time favorite colors in the whole world. I told her a brief history of the afghan and told her I wanted to send it to her. 

Yesterday, this afghan, that was begun over seven years ago, is snuggly in the arms of the new heart to love it. It makes my heart fill with joy that as Marysusan heads to the finish line of chemo she can wrap up in that afghan and hopefully feel like it is a hug from me. For years to come this afghan will be used on cold nights to wrap up sick babes and help heal broken hearts from that first school crush. I needed to find just the right place for this ever so special afghan to go and I know within my heart this was where this was meant to be.

My hero, Marysusan with her new afghan

I had no idea that a random afghan I began over seven years ago, would be a gift of love to a special family, that I met her parents on a Disney cruise, that they happened to decide to go at the last minute. Because I listened to that "feeling" and messaged Maryanna so many months ago. It just goes to show that if you are listening priceless moments and relationships are waiting if we just open our heart and mind to them.

ROCK ON MARYSUSAN! YOU ARE MY HERO AND ONE OF THE BRAVEST WOMEN I KNOW. YOU HAVE NEVER GIVEN UP AND FACED EACH CHALLENGE WITH A DETERMINATION TO BEAT IT! 

Always on my heart-Aulani Resort beach

Genetics, What is Yours is Mine..

Heredity is the passing of traits from parents to this offspring, through asexual or sexual reproduction. This is the process by which an offspring cell or organism acquires or becomes predisposed to the characteristics of its parent cell or organism. 

In humans, eye color is an example of an inherited characteristic: an individual might inherit the "brown-eye trait" from one of the parents. Inherited traits are controlled by genes and the complete set of genes within an organism's genome is called its genotype.

Your direct maternal lineage is the line that follows your mother’s maternal ancestry. This line consists entirely of women, although both men and women have their mother’s mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA). This means that fathers do not pass on their mtDNA to their children. Your mtDNA can trace your mother, her mother, her mother’s mother, and so forth and offers a clear path from you to a known or likely direct maternal ancestor. An artificial reproductive process known as Three Parent In Vitro Fertilization (TPIVF) results in offspring containing mtDNA from a donor female, and nuclear DNA from another female and a male.

Mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) is not transmitted through nuclear DNA (nDNA). In humans, as in most multicellular organisms, mitochondrial DNA is inherited only from the mother's ovum.

Every single person on this planet has a mother and a father. Regardless of their birth, in order to begin you have to have parents. Regardless of how I feel, I have a mother and I have a father, both of which are still alive. I also have half siblings that I share my genetic DNA with. Many times I have said that I don't have a mother, blah blah blah. But the truth and hard reality is I DO and regardless of how my siblings feel Jane IS my mother and I AM her daughter. This is something that can never be changed. I have my mother's mtDNA in my cells and so do my half siblings, of which we share a whopping 25% of the same genetic DNA.

It was made known to me that I have no right to talk about MY MOTHER the way that I do. Well, I am sorry to inform everyone, she IS my mother and I can actually say what I want to about her. I had a sort of relationship with her after I found her in July of 1993, but my entrance into her world shattered the false existence of her and of her family. The fact that a person can  and will lie to her family for their entire life is  probably willing to lie or tell half truths about anything.

So, because of this genetic DNA thing, I felt compelled to call my mother when Heather got cancer. No,our doctor did not have the medical genetic DNA testing available to see if the blood cancer was inherited. I just knew at that moment, regardless of the circumstances, that I never wanted one of my siblings to experience what I had. I know that every time one of their kids gets sick or gets a bruise they wonder if this might be something. The fear of them actually having a child with cancer might just come true. I have no way of knowing if this came from my mother's DNA. But, blood cancer has been linked to auto immune disorders which my mother has. I have no way of knowing how Heather got two forms of blood cancer.

I am sure that my friends get tired of seeing the same posts about my mother and my feelings. The truth is that I was the one that made my mother, a mother, regardless of the fact she gave me away. I was the first to grow inside my mother, kick her and then have her labor to give birth to me. Nothing changes that fact, ever! My daughter, Heather, taught me that even death doesn't end that love between a parent and a child.The amazing thing about mothers and pregnancy is the fact that it is proven that the babies DNA or genetic material stays within the mother's body for the rest of her life. A piece of that pregnancy goes with the mother for the rest of her life. The body remembers even if the mind tries to forget. SO try as she might my mother's body won't let her forget the fact that I am her child.

I have to express my deep appreciation for messages I received from two of my sisters on Mother's Day. It is heartwarming to see that I get under your skin and irritate to the point that you have to contact me after 5-6 years with no contact. You did give me the information I desired to know; that when my mother might be dying, she did think about me. So thank you very much for that. It is good to know that there are regrets and still feelings there on my mother's part and yours; as hate and love are the same emotion just one level apart. 

Toxic People...

Mother's Day in the United States is an annual holiday celebrated on the second Sunday in May. Mother's Day recognizes mothers, motherhood and maternal bonds in general. 

Organized by Anna Jarvis, the first official Mother's Day was celebrated at St. Andrew's Methodist Church in West Virginia, which holds the International Mother's Day Shrine. Previous attempts at establishing Mother's Day in the United States sought to promote peace by means of honoring mothers who had lost or were at risk of losing their sons to war.

In its present form, Mother's Day was established by Anna Jarvis with the help of Philadelphia merchant John Wanamaker following the death of her mother, Ann Jarvis, on May 9, 1905. On May 10, 1913, the House of Represenatives passed a resolution calling on all federal government officials (from the president down) to wear a white carnation the following day in observance of Mother's Day. On May 8, 1914, the U.S. Congress passed a law designating the second Sunday in May as Mother's Day. The next day, President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation declaring the first national Mother's Day as a day for American citizens to show the flag in honor of those mothers whose sons had died in war. In 1934, U.S. President Franklin D Roosevelt approved a stamp commemorating the holiday.

Carnations have come to represent Mother's Day since Anna Jarvis delivered 500 of them at the first celebration in 1908. Many religious services held later adopted the custom of giving away carnations. This also started the custom of wearing a carnation on Mother's Day. The founder, Anna Jarvis, chose the carnation because it was the favorite flower of her mother. In part due to the shortage of white carnations, and in part due to the efforts to expand the sales of more types of flowers on Mother's Day, florists invented the idea of wearing a pink carnation if your mother was living, or a white one if she was dead.

The commercialization of the American holiday began very early, and only nine years after the first official Mother's Day it had become so rampant that Anna Jarvis herself became a major opponent of what the holiday had become, spending all her inheritance and the rest of her life fighting what she saw as an abuse of the celebration. She decried the practice of purchasing greeting cards, which she saw as a sign of being too lazy to write a personal letter. She was arrested in 1948 for disturbing the peace while protesting against the commercialization of Mother's Day, and she finally said that she "...wished she would have never started the day because it became so out of control ..." She died later that year.

However, Mother's Day is now one of the most commercially successful American occasions, having become the most popular day of the year to dine out at a restaurant in the United States^[ and generating a significant portion of the U.S. jewelry industry's annual revenue, from custom gifts like mother's rings. Americans spend approximately $2.6 billion on flowers, $1.53 billion on pampering gifts—like spa treatments—and another $68 million on greeting cards.

Every year it is the same thing going from holiday to holiday but shortly after Easter, begins the hunt and advertisement for Mother's Day. I get emails, entitled "see some of mom's favorite gifts," FTD ads boast about the "perfect" flowers that Mom will love, TV commercials begin and all the greeting cards and candy come out. But Mother's Day is not the "perfect" holiday for everyone. While it is true that we all have a mother, not all of us are blessed with good mothers or even a mother that will acknowledge or accept your existence on the planet. Not everyone has the "June Cleaver, let's bake cookies after school" mother. While there are all different kinds of mothers and children and each one is different, to the adopted child, Mother's Day takes on a whole new meaning,

As soon as you figure out what the words "you were adopted" mean, you begin to wonder why. Why did my mother carry me for 9 months and then give me away. Was this her choice/ Who was the father? How did she feel being pregnant with me. How long was she in labor? Did she hold me? Did she look at me? Did she wonder what happened to me? Did she ever think about me? How did it feel when I was kicking in her belly? Did she love me? Did she have any regrets? Then comes in all the other questions, like do I look like her? Do I have her eye or hair color? Do I have anything that I do that is like her? When you look in the mirror, you don't know who you look like.

One of the most amazing things to me is the fact that everyone tells me my three girls "look so much like me." Now, that I have 2 GRANDgirls, I can see they look like their moms and then in turn they look like me. How amazing to grow up in a house where you look like the people in your house. You have photos of past relatives that you may resemble. This is something I never had. I never had anyone tell me I look like my mom or my dad. Now of course I know who I look like and all the genetic traits that make me who I am. It was and still is amazing to me the amount of things that are genetic and not learned behaviors.

So I can say with a clear conscience that I 'broke up" my relationship with my mother. Yes, it was my choice and it has been the healthiest thing I have ever done for myself. For some reason greeting cards don't have a traditional card that reads " thanks for giving birth to me and not aborting me, but it is the best thing that we don't have contact with each other" card. I can say that "breaking up" with my mother was not something I did without thinking long and hard about my decisions. It was a relief and heartbreaking at the same time. For my own sake I could not have this toxic person and her family in my life. Not that they had been much of a force in my world to begin with. Of course there are three sides to every story; mine, my mothers (not her daughters as they were not even around during most of our time together) and then the truth.

I kept trying to engage in the "mother/daughter" relationship but I seemed to be the only one trying. I naively thought that she would change or meet me halfway. I kept trying and hoping for a different outcome. I had expected a relationship that she was not capable of giving to me. I felt this was my fault and somehow if I was better or if I tried to love my mother more it would make everything all right. I knew for myself I had to stop caring and expecting a relationship that was never ever going to happen. Imagine the shock when I came to realize that my thought "that birth mothers have to love their babies" turned out to be a horror story and I was one of the key players.

So now, I have a mother that is living and I her child, am living but no relationship. People tell me to forgive and forget. I say there are things that you simply cannot overlook and sweep away. There are things that people do that are unforgivable. I will state clearly that I reached out to my mother while Heather was still alive and in ICU. My mother did not respond to me. My daughter was dying. Her granddaughter was dying and there was nothing. At that moment things were done and there would be no turning back. Choices were made and I am okay with mine.

I appreciate my mother for not aborting me, but lets be truthful abortion was not legal then. She did give birth to me and gave me away. I can say that I am the person I am today no thanks to her at all. I have three daughters and two GRANDgirls that did not have her as a toxic influence in their lives. It is my mother's greatest loss that she never had a relationship with Heather. I am glad that she doesn't share my memories of Heather. The second greatest loss is she never had a relationship with me. The problem is I am someone who stands up for herself, I don't take the backseat to anyone and I don't allow toxic people to stay in my life.

Mother's Day or Something Like That....

I can't remember when or how Mother's Day became such a heartbreaking and sad holiday for me but it was sometime during my childhood. I honestly don't remember any Mother's Days celebrated with Jo Beth. I was 9 when she died and I have very early memories but none of anything I ever did for her for Mother's Day. I am sure that her lack of care or concern for me added to the feelings that I never thought of Jo Beth as my mother. I had been told all my life by her mother, my Gran, that I needed to be thankful that I was adopted by such loving and caring parents. She would tell me I could have spent my entire life in Foster care and I needed to be grateful. Really? Who says those words to a child? All I knew is that when Jo Beth died, I was free! I was free from bondage and free from abuse. After finding my adoption records, I now know that Jo Beth never wanted or bonded with me. The report stated that Jo Beth was extremely self centered and introverted. They did not think that she was capable of loving anyone other than herself. This is never qualities that a mother can have an be a good mother. I can honestly say today that I don't feel bad when I say that Jo Beth was never my mother and I am thankful that she died and was no longer in my life.

Then came my step mother, Norma. I thought at first that she was the mother "I had always dreamed of." Boy was I ever wrong. For the second time, I was placed into the care of another woman who never wanted me. All she ever wanted was a daughter that would be her slave; to clean the messes she would leave behind and never be a self thinker. I look back and realize I was a modern day Cinderella. Each night Norma would fix crappy meals for our family of 5, everyone would eat and all the dishes were left for me to clean the next day after school. I was to come home and get the kitchen cleaned each day before Norma got home from work. Then, on the weekends I was required to vacuum and dust the house while her two sons did nothing. One was seven years older than me and one was three years younger than me. This was truly a Cinderella story. I had ratty clothes and shoes and the house was a mess as the three of them were horders. As I grew into a teenager our relationship went from bad to worse. It was my Daddy and me against Norma and her two sons. We were five people living under one roof but we barely spoke to each other.

Then one of the biggest mistakes I have made in my life was finding my birth mother, Jane. Wow, what a special kind of psycho is she. I was the product of a two and a half year long affair she had with a married man even though she lied to me and told me she only knew him for about 6 weeks. She knew he was married and had kids even though she lied to me and told me she didn't know. My birth father's wife got pregnant again, so Jane got pregnant with me to trick him into leaving his wife and marrying her. When her plan backfired she dumped me. I was now the baby she no longer wanted. She never saw me and signed over her rights the moment I was born. Jane made choices and honestly I am glad I was not raised by such a cold-hearted, deceptive woman. She never ever mentioned me again. She never told her husband, whom she married when she was 3 months pregnant a little over a year after my birth. Imagine this poor man's shock when he comes in and finds her crying one day with my letter in front of her. For 29 years, I had been the secret she had forgotten about. I tried to have a relationship but I was a huge reminder of her lies and decent and she could never have a relationship with me. I did try once again when Heather had cancer but....my mother, who carried me in her body and gave birth to me, could not put she selfish heart aside and reach out and be a human being. Jane sent me a generic sympathy card, then she and her five children managed to make a whopping $25.00 donation in honor of Heather. Really?? Keep your money and buy food. What an insult. Jane to my sisters is the perfect saint of a mother and they say that she loved her kids and grandkids with her life. Really? You watched how she treated me, her first born child and her granddaughter, and you can still say that.

I recently found out that Jane was in the hospital battling for her life. She is currently in a nursing/rehabilitation facility. I of course got no call or word from her family that anything was wrong with her. Did on her near death bed, she think about me? Did she want to say anything to me? Did I cross her mind at all? Or was I the child that she never wanted and never loved and never really gave a second thought too! My question still remains how can a mother love 5 of her children but not the 6th? As a mother who had my beloved daughter die, I would give my life to have another moment with Heather. But then again, I was her Momy.

I can only remember one Mother's Day that I was glad to be celebrating and that was 2008. This was the Mother's Day about a month after Heather was diagnosed with cancer. We had no idea if she was in remission not but for that moment I was ever so thankful that she was here and alive and with me. Her gift to me that year was a pair of teardrop shaped peridot earrings. She picked these for two reasons; one was that was her Grandma Coombe's birthstone and it was the color of Lymphoma. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that was her last Mother's Day. It makes me wonder if she knew. Did she know her time was short? Mother's Day, 2009, was 20 days after Heather died. Wow really? I wasn't even out of extreme shock and I went right into Mother's Day.

Please don't tell me I am strong or brave. I am not strong or brave, I am surviving. I wasn't given a choice. Cancer invaded and didn't ask me. Heather died and didn't ask me. I got a life makeover without my consent. I am forced to live without my child I don't have a choice. I am surviving.

Please don't tell me Heather is "always with me." Actually my child is never with me anymore. I can't visit her. I can't hear her phone call or receive her text messages. I can't ever get another gift from her for my birthday or Mother's Day. I won't get flowers from her anymore and she won't bring me another caffeine free diet coke from Circle K. I always carry her with me. I will picture her face and her smile, but no, she isn't here. She isn't married and living in Disneyland. She is dead and she is gone.

Please don't tell me Heather is in a better place. Yes, she had cancer and the last 33 days of her life she was suffering. I know she isn't suffering anymore, but I can't visit her. I can't call her. I have no new memories made with her and there are no new photos. She is missing, gone, away from every single family event that happens now. She is permanently gone for the rest of my life and that hurts, It hurts big time!

To everyone who had a great mom, or even an average mom; count yourself blessed. This is a treasure that some never know. I have never ever known the love of a mother. I know the love as a mother to her child, but I have never had a mother's love. I don't have a mother to hold me when I cry and grieve the death of Heather. I have no mother to share her bond with me as her child as I journey without my daughter and her granddaughter. Being a mother to Jenn, Heather and Wendy, I cannot imagine allowing my daughter to grieve the death of her child alone. The saddest words my daughter ever told me was she prayed she didn't grow up to be like me-a grieving mother. Think about that statement for a moment...my daughters don't want to have one of their children die and be a grieving mother. I don't blame them as I never ever ever ever ever ever want Jenn and Wendy to be like me, their mother.