It's one thing to mentally think it through and entirely another to let the words escape my body and put them out there for the world to see.
It's been quite a month.
Miranda has become somewhat obsessed with the concept of Allie. She talks about her all the time. She had her first Girl Scout (well, Daisy Scout) troop meeting last month, and all the kids got together to create pottery. They were able to design their very own plate! It was pretty cool. From what I could see, most of the girls designed a plate with their name or with a single word like "love." Miranda wrote "Allie" on her plate. I asked her why and almost begged her to reconsider. She stood firm and said sometimes she forgets Allie, and if she had a plate with her name on it, she was less likely to forget her. How could I say no to that in a room full of strangers on a cold fall afternoon?On Halloween, about ten days after the pottery lesson and about an hour after I got to my office after being "homeroom mom" for the morning with Miranda at her school, the guidance counselor called my cell. She said Miranda started crying at lunch and saying that she missed "Allie the butterfly," so her teacher brought her to the nurse. The nurse then called the counselor, and the counselor called me.
I had not told anyone in Miranda's first-grade class about Allie for a few reasons. The main one was that how Miranda chooses to deal with her grief is entirely up to her, and it's not my business to tell people facts about her life. We have not yet had a parent-teacher conference, and there was no real way to bring it up anyway. Conferences are around Thanksgiving, and that would have been the first opportunity I had. Certainly not as I was helping change twenty-one excited six-year-olds into their Halloween costumes!
When the counselor called me, I felt like I had been punched in the gut. She reassured me that Miranda was ok now, and she was resting in the nurse's office. She was just about to go back to class. Over the phone, while choking back the tears, I explained that Allie was my first daughter, she was stillborn at 37 weeks, she would be two years older than Miranda and that when we see butterflies, they remind us of her.
The counselor was compassionate and warm, and all the things you need to be to have that job. She said she was so so sorry for our loss and that she could not imagine how hard that must have been for us. She commended us for sharing Allie's story with Miranda and said it was a positive thing that she will always grow up knowing about the daughter that came before her. She told me that if Miranda or even I ever needed to talk again, she would be there.
I hung the phone up and sat at my desk and just started to sob. I have never cried before at a job that I like!! I was so blindsided! My kid needed me, and here I was miles away. And my kid needed me because I had been open and honest to her about our family's history.
It took me a good twenty minutes of walking around my office parking lot until I could call Gary and fill him in. Always my rock, he calmed me down, and we decided we would talk to Miranda in-between trick or treating and all the other festivities of the day.
When we did have the chance to talk, Miranda asked if she could have lunch with her counselor. She said some kids do that and they really like it. It sounded good to us! I reached out to the counselor, and she was totally on board. Miranda and she would have lunch together and chat, and that way, Miranda could have a safe person at school to talk to if she ever felt sad again, and we would still be her safe people at home.
Lunch went great! It was on Tuesday of this week, and Miranda told me the counselor read a book to her about a little boy who was expecting his parents to come home from this hospital with a new baby, except they did not. They talked about how that situation was like Miranda's, and I think they also did some crafts. She loved it.
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| Allie is my sister who died when she was born. We love her anyway. |
I emailed the counselor asking for advice.
She offered to see her again but also suggested an outside therapist. One who deals with grief.
One that Gary and I saw back in 2011 when Allie died.
So here we are. Back in 2011, but this time with a live baby that needs our help.
We will do anything to protect her. It's our job. I just wish it did not hurt us so much to see her struggling.
I feel badly writing this all down because this is no longer just my story to tell. However, for me to be the best mom I can be, I can't hold onto it anymore.
We got in touch with our grief counselor on Friday. She would love the chance to sit down with Gary and me and make a plan (if we even need one!) for Miranda. So that's what we shall do.
Earlier today at a pool party, Miranda lost an earring. Without thinking, I gave her one of mine.
Why can't all our problems be fixed that easily??
To be continued...
