Never Needed

I've struggled to make sense of the sadness and frustration I've felt lately....Life has been chaotic and emotions never seem far from the surface. Lots of really hard, personal things all came at once and my heart has struggled to find peace....

Can't you find something to do? Superman said after my second day of talk shows and donuts wrapped up in my duvet....

FINE.

I dragged my sorry-ass down stairs and stared at my sewing closet...Annoyed. Life's so unfair. Why is it always hard. 

Fabric caught my eye, I had set it aside months before....

Remembering the story behind it...

Almost twenty years ago, while Grant and I were in university with three kids under four, I worked part time at a maternity/kids wear store to make ends meet...one evening a young couple brought a little white satin tuxedo to the til to pay for it. "How old is your baby?" the store owner asked as I rang in the purchase.  The very young father replied " He would have been 7 days today" as tears rolled down the mothers cheeks... I have never forgotten those grief stricken faces or how bothered I was that they had to pay for burial clothes for their son....

Months ago after cleaning out all the cupboards in the Relief Society room, the faces of that young couple crossed my mind and I felt strongly that I should make some burial clothing for babies to put in our cupboards. I hadn't gotten to it ...

Well I guess I could tackle those gowns I thought, suddenly humbled.....

So the last two days I've hunkered down in my sewing room, stole a pattern of Pinterest and got to work...

Baby boy 2-4 lbs....

Baby girl 2-4 lbs...

Baby girl 5-8 lbs...

After doing some research...open back with ties was the easiest option for dressing....

I plan to make a few more in different sizes...

My hope is that these gowns are NEVER NEEDED and will stay safely tucked away in our RS cupboards forever....but if needed they are now there.

PS...if anyone is ever aware of a need for burial clothing for a baby I'm more than willing to give these away to anyone or make something suitable, so please let me know.

I'm still really struggling but grateful hard days haven't been totally wasted.

Sometimes They Leave.

I read the words slowly again and again, before dawn broke that morning. Sleep had escaped me most of the night my heart already hurting from a very difficult day as a Relief Society president. Tears came fast as the words and their meanings became clear through my tears. I felt an already heavy heart fall...

My kids were never supposed to leave the church. I took them every Sunday with bows in their hair and matching dresses and everything (well except the boy, he got a tie)...

But the words were right in front of me. Undeniable no matter how slowly I read them. 

Mom, Dad, I have something I need to tell you...I'm leaving the Church...and I don't want to talk about it.

 My heart ached for my child. And my children who have already left.

Through my tears my fingers slowly typed...

We love you, that will never change! We will always show you kindness and compassion no matter where you are in your journey and wish you nothing but hope and happiness. 
Love,
Mom

*****

If they had just said more prayers as a family or had family home evening or made their kids go to church longer or served more diligently or handled their trials differently....their kids would have stayed...active.

Surely no one thinks this way, that would be judgmental. But I know they do, because I did. Time will always be a funny teacher.

*****
With some time I am beginning to understand.

Yes my mama's heart is broken....but not for the reasons I first thought....It breaks as I think of the fear she must have gone through as she typed those words and how her heart must have ached as she waited for our response....will they still love and respect me? or will they turn away from me? That is what breaks my heart.

My love for each of my children will NEVER change, nothing could make me stop loving them. They are good and kind and loving, each of them, amazing. None of that has changed. I pray each day that I can be the mom they need and that I will always show them the love and kindness they deserve where ever they are in their journey.

Forty Two

It has always fascinated me how memory works and that simple, seemingly innate things seem to open the flood gates sometimes.... Forty Two, a number and a birthday.... I turned 42 while we were in Toronto, a lovely day with family, delicious food in a quiet tavern and cupcakes. A perfect birthday day. 

But that morning, memories of my mom flooded my mind... I'm the same age she was. 42 is the only birthday I remember of hers...which is so odd.

I remember Kelli and I climbing on our vinyl and wood chairs in our cluttered kitchen to tape up blue crepe paper streamers from the exposed beam between the kitchen and family room and me then taping rudimentary 4 and 2 with the remaining bits to that black beam... A hurried attempt to surprise my mom with something special ...

Mom came in the door moments later. I don't remember if she even noticed.  I do remember her putting on her threadbare pink mumu climbing on the couch and falling asleep within minutes. Same as any other day. There was nothing special about that day. So sad.

At almost 9 Kelli and I knew things were very wrong but it would take another decade until we could even start to understand the effects of her mental illness and addiction.

For years I was positive that any day I would wake up and my life would be a carbon copy of hers. And that thought terrified me. It took years to understand and accept and see  that things could and would be different for me.

I will always wonder what things could have been like for her, if she had the support and understanding and medical advances available now. My heart will always ache a little when I think about that. 

But I have found a place of peace, to set that aside knowing that some day those answers will come.

My life at 42 is very different 

Her love of musicals and the ocean and a meal out with family some of the good traits we share...but a life in turmoil I do not live. The lessons we learned from her and about her kept us from the same path. 

Memories bring gratitude and so do birthdays.

Kramers Take on Toronto

Some time in the middle of the chaos this Summer, Grant suggested we plan a trip to Toronto to see his brother...I think I mumbled. "sure, as long as you make all the arrangements and we have enough Airmiles"....within hours tickets were booked and plans were set....I would be spending my next birthday in the big city....

Nolan, the kid with Koolaid blue hair I met 25 years is now a Daddy with the sweetest wife ever and a two year old who instantly melts your heart....

They live on a street with tightly packed houses that share front porches, with a small store on one corner and a tiny produce market on the other, it's hassle and bustle had an almost familiar charm. It took me a day or two to place it...it totally reminded me of Sesame Street.

Nolan and Maggie were five-star tour guides and hosts. We need instantly felt at home.

The boys took in a Blue Jays Game....

Grant had a freak out in the elevator of the CN Tower....(instant Karma, eh Grant?)

But oh that view!!!!

The heart melter...

Maggie  and I saw Cirque du Soleil's Luzia....So so so AMAZING!!!!

We crossed Niagra Falls off our bucket list....

It's power and beauty took my breath away....

Toronto's food was out of this world....

Street Meat at the bottom of CN Tower.

Stockyards, this burger was the best I have had ever...still my mouth waters.

Latkies from Claplansky's Deli. 

But the absolute best part of Toronto was hearing this amazing two year old call us Uncle Grant and Auntie Robin for eight whole days and see his mommy and daddy love him to the moon and back. Family is everything.

What a wonderful time we had! We love you guys!

Weight of the World

Today we wandered into our favourite doctors office, the last five years hav made these appointments nearly routine now, well almost...

Superman has done really well lately.  These months of stability have taken a half decade to find, and we are grateful, so grateful for however long this gift is ours...

But our gratitude doesn't change our reality. The reality of a life long, unpredictable mental illness and it definitely doesn't change the fact that managing and treating that illness is sobering at best. Most will never know what it's like to sit in a psychiatrist office and have to make the decision to treat psychosis, even though the side effects are a 75 lbs weight gain, with a bunch of other too-difficul-to-spell one

Side effects thrown in for good measure...but that's less life threatening than the psychosis, so you make choice...

Grant's psychiatrist is one of the best. Kind, compassionate and honest. He makes sure we understand all that we have on our plates, no matter how intense or difficult that conversation is...

So there are moments even during stability that this illness feels like the weight of the world on our shoulders...even if it's just for a moment, I find myself blinking back tears and taking a breath or two to catch my own....

But then I remember we've come this far. And then we some how square our shoulders and lift again and simply carry on. Grateful for all those lifting with us and all the wisdom that comes from heavy loads.  :) <3

Beyond My Own

Occasionally my Superman says something rather profound in between making me watch the new Starwars trailer for the ninth time and his 17 hours into Star Trek marathon (dang you Netflix)....

"You know Robin all you have to be is willing and Heavenly Father will fill in the pieces and make it work."

Between Relief Society, Stake Girls camp prep, mommy-ing and and and and....I have often felt like that plate spinning circus act, except I keep dropping the plates....

And I may or may not have been whining about being overwhelmed at the moment Superman's surprise wisdom stopped me mid complaint...

Oh CRAP Super's right (shhhh we don't need to let him know that, kay?!)...

But in that moment I knew I needed to think differently.

This last week as demands only increased, I decided to watch for the miracles instead of the mountains. And on a particularly rough and ridiculous day I crawled into bed exhausted but amazed that every important demand had been met and in that quiet moment I understood the line from a beloved hymn "finding strength beyond my own" in a new way.

So often in these last six months I have felt strength I knew was not mine alone...the words to speak when I had no idea what to say...the feeling to reach out when no need was obvious..

Yup super IS right...Heavenly Father only asks us to be willing and he makes the rest work out...

Gosh I love my wise Superman.....but how many more times do I have to hear the Star Trek theme song before he runs out of episodes????

Still Bipolar Sundays

A Facebook memory scrolled across my screen this morning and the emotions of that very moment flooded back....

Grant had been rushed to the emergency room from his graveyard shift with breathing/heart issues and I in a moment of desperation had pleaded with Facebook-land for prayers on his behalf.

Oh how I remember the panic and fear of that moment...

My heart somehow knew what my mind would take years to accept, as I sat beside my Superman's gurney that night... I knew my Superman's bipolar disorder had relapsed.

It's a good thing I didn't know then, the journey these last five years would be. That time and time again we would be brought to the brink of hopelessness and fear as an illness raged. That nearly every thing I knew in that moment would change, that prayers would go unanswered and people wouldn't always understand.

I remember praying over and over that night and in the days and months that followed that He would just take it all away, that my Superman would be healed and we could have our lives back....

That never came...

Now there is an acceptance that it won't. Slowly those terrifying feelings of panic and fear have been replaced with education and support. 

I jokingly said recently  "you know he is bipolar on Sundays too, right?" When somebody at church asked why he wasn't there.

Today we are so much better at accepting limits and adjusting our sails. Today, Grant is still as bipolar as ever, but  life feels normal again (normal as in my husband is bipolar, normal as in we love our psychiatrist, normal as in mental illness is what it is). Kramer-normal.

Five years, wow. What a ride. Thank heavens for faith, friends and Seroquel.