I Just Feel.... Empty

As I sit down to write this post, I'm still not 100% sure I can even put it into words, let alone share it with the world. But I'm going to try, because this is my therapy. This blog is my couch and counselor. I've always sworn to be honest and real when I'm writing, and since this is something that has been weighing on me for some time, I feel compelled to release it, or it will most definitely eat me alive. 
So here goes...
Ever since losing Zach, I've discovered feelings that I never knew existed within me. Emotions that it has taken me quite some time to identify. Maybe they've always been there, just below the surface, but until recently, I couldn't quite put my finger on them.
Let me start at the beginning. Not too long before meeting my husband (Dan) I was diagnosed with some female medical issues. I won't get into the details, but after several procedures and doctors, I was essentially told that having kids was probably not going to be an option for me. It could happen, but the likelihood was low. At the time, I was 18 years old. Fresh out of high school, and the only future I was concerned with was the weekend ahead. I'm not even sure the news fully registered with me. I barely gave it another thought. Fast forward about a year, and I met Dan. This amazing guy that I instantly connected with. And if that wasn't awesome enough, he came complete with a miniature version of himself that I also fell head over heels in love with immediately. Zach was four years old, and damn near the perfect child. Sweet, funny, adorable, loving, and buckets of fun. Sure, we had challenges along the way, but he and I formed a bond that was stronger than anything I could ever have fathomed. By 20, I was living with Dan and Zach, and we were a regular family. I was even a stay at home mom. At this point, the idea of not being able to have kids was something that I had begun to think about from time to time. Especially when Zach would ask for a baby brother or sister multiple times a day. But aside from my medical issues, there was another issue with adding to our family. That was Dan. You see, Dan was a teenage father. Not the ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. Add to that the fact that Zach's mother had a change of heart, and had all but abandoned him by the age of nine months, and the fact that Dan had very strong feelings about NOT having any more kids, well... it made sense. He had made it very clear, right from the beginning, that he was a one and done dad. Being only 19, and believing I couldn't have kids anyway, this wasn't a deal breaker for me. Besides, we already had a kid who we adored, so it wasn't like I'd never get to experience motherhood. 
Over the next 13+ years, we raised our son, and went about our lives. I won't say that I never thought about having kids, but it wasn't something I was dwelling on. I focused on the future, and figured I'd just be the most kick ass grandma someday. Zach had just graduated from high school, and we were helping him sort out his college plans. Then everything changed. 
On August 4, 2012, we said goodbye to Zach. Our only child, and our entire world. The emptiness that follows the loss of a child is something that has no comparison. My heart was shattered, and my soul was lost. I found myself yearning for something to fill the hole that losing my son had left in me. I knew, from talking to other grieving parents, and from my reading on the subject, that these feelings were normal. "Don't worry, they'll pass." I was told. 
It's been almost three years since losing Zach, and the feeling has only gotten worse. I've tried distracting myself with work, hobbies, and various activities, but nothing changes.
I'm 35 years old now. I've watched all my friends and loved ones grow their families. Baby after baby I've celebrated. Since losing my own child, each birth has been more painful than the last. Every pregnancy bringing with it anger and jealousy. And then to hear all the moms talk about motherhood to me as if I know nothing of the subject. As if I didn't watch my own child grow into a man, only to be stolen from me. But you know what.... they're not wrong. Because for all the experiences I do have as a mother, there are so many that I don't. I've never known the surprise and fear of finding out you're pregnant. Never felt and watched my body change, as I grew a person inside of it. Never seen the look of love on my husband's face as he felt his child kick for the first time. Never stressed over picking the right name, or what colors to paint a nursery. I've never felt the agony of childbirth, and the immeasurable joy of hearing your child cry for the first time. I've never fed from my breast, never stared into a brand new face, looking to see myself, and I've never been called "mommy". 
I've always thought of myself as someone who thrived on experiences. Of relishing, first hand, in all the ups and downs that life had to offer. But for one of the greatest, most amazing, powerful, and life changing experiences a person can have, I've never been more than a bystander. I've always had to live those moments vicariously through someone else. Before losing my son, I could accept that, because I had him. I had a future. I would watch my child grow, dance with him at his wedding, and all the extra motherly love I had in me would be bestowed upon my future grandchildren and great grandchildren. 
But that future is gone now. And my heart still has so much to offer, but nowhere to put it.
I see mothers with their children and my heart breaks anew. I hold my tiny nephew to my chest and I never want to let him go. I see my sister spoil her grandchildren and I wonder what that feels like, because I'll never know. 
At night, I dream of my son, and in many of them, he's holding a baby girl and smiling. He tries to give her to me, but I wake up before he can. I don't know what the dreams mean, but I know I wake up feeling even more empty and sad than when I fell asleep. 
Maybe it's my Grief causing these feelings. Maybe it's my biological clock screaming at me to do something before it's too late. Maybe it's a change in hormones. Maybe it's all of these things and more, I just don't know. Whatever it is, it fucking sucks, and I wish I knew what to do about it. 
But for now, I'll just keep trying to push forward and hope for the best.

Learning Experiences

In the two years since losing our son, we have found that nothing is easy anymore. Normal, everyday experiences become more challenging, and things that should be no big deal are very, very hard.
Recently, I've been struggling more and more. In many ways, the past few months have been more difficult and painful for me than the first few months after losing Zach. I started thinking more and more about ways to make myself "feel better", and keep me from being sad.
Then, a few days ago, a friend brought over the sweetest, most loving, wonderful puppy for Dan and I to meet. We instantly fell head over heels in love with her. It's impossible not to. She's amazing. I wanted her in the worst way. So we arranged a trial run, and brought her to stay with us for a few days to see if she was a good fit.
Yesterday was my first full day with her. I didn't sleep at all the night before. Even worse than usual. I kept listening for every little sound. Was she breathing? Did she choke on something in her crate? My fears were never ending. I woke up feeling sick to my stomach. All day yesterday I felt sick. My stomach was in knots with nerves and worry.
Last night, I started crying for no reason. Dan asked what was going on. I didn't know how to answer that. I told him I was scared and nervous. What if something happens to her? What if she gets out and gets hurt? What if she eats something and gets sick? He said "Honey, that could happen. You can't think like that." But I can't NOT think like that. After losing Zach, it's all I can think about. I worry about Dan from the time he walks out the door in the morning, until I hear him come home. I can't control it. It's just another side effect of the Grief.
I'm petrified of becoming attached to anyone or anything else, because I can't handle another loss. My mind and heart are so fragile right now.
I am totally smitten with this puppy, but am I ready for this? Will I get over the nerves and worry? I never even thought of this. I thought we'd find a dog we liked and bring it home. Just like a million other families. I figured we'd have an adjustment period, it is a change after all. But I was thinking about things like training, schedule adjustments, dog hair on the furniture, and paying for vet bills. I never thought about how it might effect me emotionally. I didn't expect this little ball of fur to bring out maternal feelings. But she does. When Dan says "Are you following mommy around?" or I say "Go get daddy!" my heart breaks and I can barely keep from crying. Such simple things are not so simple anymore. Nothing is...
Dan asked me last night why I really wanted a dog. My answer was not what I was expecting even. I told him I thought it would make us happy. That it would give us something to love. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt guilty. Was I trying to replace our son with a dog? Was this puppy just filling a void that I didn't want to admit I had?
I cried last night. A lot. For a long time. I knew this would be a big decision. I expected it to be tough. But I never expected it to bring up so many things that I had been pushing down for two years. Things that I'm still not sure I'm ready to deal with.
I can handle potty accidents. I can deal with hair & dirty paws on my clean floors. I have no issues going for walks, even in the cold and rain, and late at night. All the things I THOUGHT I might struggle with are all the easy parts as it turns out. But I can't spend my days being sick to my stomach with worry. I can't cry every time we get called her mommy & daddy. I can't put Dan through that. He has enough on his plate already. He doesn't need to be worried about me having a breakdown if the puppy eats a sock.
I'm so torn right now. I just don't know what to do... The puppy goes back to her foster momma later today, and I know she needs a decision from us sooner than later. But I still need some time. And I want to see how we feel after she leaves. That will be a big test as well. This is just the latest learning experience for us I suppose. One I certainly wasn't expecting...

A few stolen moments with Miss Tilly...

Emotions vs. Emoticons

I often find myself ending a text, email or facebook post with an emoticon. A symbol that represents a smile, a frown, a confused look, etc. But what am I really trying to convey? The answer is an emotion. Words can evoke emotion, but they cannot always accurately express them, so we use combinations of symbols to share our moods and feelings. But does a colon and a bracket really give you the same satisfaction as a genuine smile? Maybe it does.
If you are having a bad day and you get a text from a friend or loved one that says "Thinking of u :)" does it make you feel better? Does it give you the same emotional response that hearing those same words and seeing that person smile would? In some cases, I think it does. I know that when I am having a crappy day and I see a funny pic or read a funny post on facebook, that makes me LOL, it does help improve my mood. Maybe not the same way as a face to face conversation and sharing laughter does, but it still helps. Do reading the words "I love you" in an email or text give you the same warmth as hearing them and looking into the eyes of the speaker? Probably not. But does that mean we shouldn't still text it? Not at all. In some cases, the written word may be all we have to communicate by, and any expression of love and friendship is better than none at all.
The problem arises when emoticons replace real emotions. When we forget what our loved ones smiles and frowns really look like because we no longer see them. It's easy to take a second to send a text, or even comprise an email, or to post on someones wall/timeline. But the real stuff comes from sacrificing our time and responsibilities to make that effort in person. To plan a date, or a visit. To sit down and have a real conversation with someone and see the emotions play out in their faces. To hear their laughter, not just read about it. It's during these interactions that real emotion is felt and created. I'm not saying we should drop everything and go visit everyone we know or love, that isn't logical. But it is possible to make real time for people, we just have to accept that it will require more from us than just a few moments of our time. It might mean leaving work a little early, or not watching that TV show you like. But if you get pleasure from a text, imagine how much you would get from a real touch, or hug or smile. It's priceless.
Technology has made our lives so much easier and it has opened up so many new forms of communication and possibilities for relationships. Just a few short years ago, I wouldn't have been in contact with even 1/3 of the people I am now. I love meeting new people and reconnecting with old friends. I love that I can have a completely random chat in the middle of the day with a friend about absolutely nothing. Technology makes these things possible and I am eternally grateful. I always have my phone with me and I rarely go a day without checking my facebook or email. I love the new worlds that these things have opened up for me. They bring me immense pleasure & I do not foresee a future without these things in my life.
That being said, my greatest pleasures in life, my fondest memories, the things I will someday tell my grandchildren about, these things are the real, physical moments. I may show someone a pic of my new baby niece, but I could never express the true joy I get from holding her in my arms and smelling her sweet scent. I may smile as I hang up the phone after a nice chat with a friend, but that smile will never be as big and heartfelt as the one I get from seeing & hugging that person in real life. To hear my son tell me about the new girl he met isn't the same as seeing the look in his eyes as he describes her to me. To read a text from my husband that says "Miss u c u soon" gives me a nice feeling, but it cannot compare to the feeling of seeing him walk through the door and pull me into his arms.
Emoticons are fun, and a great way to show someone you are just teasing, or to add a touch of a flirt, but they are no substitute for emotions. At the end of the day, it is the real smiles or frowns or winks that have the most impact. A sad face at the end of an I'm sorry text can never compare to a genuine tear filled apology.
It may be the thought that counts, but it is the real thing that really adds up. So the next time you are texing a friend, or chatting on facebook, try and make time to get together. Meet for a quick lunch, or have a girls night. Whatever you do, remember that as much as we love our technology, it is not a replacement for real life. So hug your friends, smile at strangers and make time for those face to face conversations, because those are the moments that we truly connect to others, and those are the things that we will remember. People rarely lie in bed at night and fall asleep to the vision of a semi colon and a bracket in their heads...