Shane and I had a great family, fun-filled weekend - despite the fact that Sunday marked 10 months that Chris has been gone.

Saturday we drove to upstate NY to celebrate the communion of two of Chris’ cousins kids (confusing, I know!) and Sunday we went to a carnival that happened to be in town for the weekend.  I plan to talk more about those things tomorrow, for now I want to talk about Friday night.

Friday night my sister and I drove down to Chuck’s to have a drink with Sue.  She was in town for the weekend and was working at the restaurant.  LOVE Chuck’s.  It’s the kind of place you walk into and immediately feel at home.  Kind of like slipping into your oldest pair of worn, perfect jeans.  Chris and I spent SO many weekend nights at Chucks when we first starting dating and anyone that was lucky enough to know him knew that he didn’t have a personality that could easily be forgotten!  Memories and stories of happier times were told around that bar Friday night as they always are.  Always were.  And it was during one of those memories that I was reminded of another oc-ism:

Chris LOVED the margaritas at Chuck’s.  LOVED.  He was never really anything but a beer drinker, but at Chuck’s they knew to keep the margaritas (always on the rocks, never frozen) coming.  I had forgotten that Chris used to call them “monkeritas” - named after one of his favorite bartenders at Chucks!  The memory brought a smile to my face and I was immediately taken back to 1999.  Many of the faces of those around the bar where different back then, but the heart of those moments, and the stories that they’ve created - they are the same.

She’s finally on the mend, our girl.  Bandage is off.  Stitches came out today.  We’ve got 6 (very long) weeks of recovery ahead of us, but I’ll take it.  She’s finally on the mend.

I look forward to the day I can say the same about the rest of us.

Is FINE!  Luckily!  My vet (who I would literally trust with MY life) said the repair couldn’t be tighter!  He’s thinking that the stitches are pulling, which is causing some discomfort.  Add that to the fact that he had to make a DEEP incision through muscle and the fact that there is now fishing line where a ligament once was and he thinks it’s pretty realistic that she’s still “toe stepping”.  He said the fact that she’s putting any weight on it at all is a good thing!

So we dodged that bullet.  Here’s to waiting for the next one . . .

Kylee had her bandage removed on Monday. Up until that point, I would’ve sworn our baby girl was on the mend from her ACL repair. Since coming home, I’ve managed to convince myself that she has re-injured that ligament. She’s still “toe stepping”, she’s limping, she’s sitting funny and she doesn’t exactly scream “on the mend” to me anymore. I had a feeling, in my gut, that something wasn’t right. That’s just the way things roll around here lately, and it’s starting to take it’s toll on me. I called the vet yesterday, hoping they’d tell me that this is all normal one week post-surgery, but instead they thought it would be a good idea to make an appointment to have her seen. We go in this afternoon for the doc to take another look at her leg. I have a sinking suspicion that more surgery is on the horizon. The bad luck, the unfavorable outcomes, the hard times - it’s all really starting to get to me. I’m starting to really believe that this is what my life is going to be now. I’m imagining myself as a statistic, one of those women who had everything they wanted, lost it all and was never able to bounce back. It’s been one thing after another since our journey with infertility started in April of 2008. That was two years ago. I so badly want for things to turn around and I just don’t see it happening. Everywhere I turn it’s more bad news. My health insurance appeal was denied again because of a lack of medical evidence to back up my claim. The insurance claim from my auto accident (where I got hit by the car BEHIND me) is still being worked out, and it’s not looking favorable for me. The other guy’s insurance company has found me at fault, and while my insurance company is still trying to fight for me, it’s just not looking good. Shane is talking and asking about Chris every spare second he has. It’s heartbreaking. How do you respond when your three year old asks you if his Daddy still has boo-boos in heaven? It’s torture. It’s all torture. And all I want is a few moments of “happy” again. I’ve forgotten what that emotion feels like. So, fingers crossed that my instinct on Kylee is wrong. Fingers crossed that we’ll get some good news this afternoon for a change. A turn of events would be welcomed indeed.

I re-arranged the furniture in our bedroom this weekend.  I LOVE decor changes.  Crave them really.  Re-arranging furniture, painting walls, swapping decor items, bedding or curtains.  LOVE it.  But I’ve had a tough time making changes in certain rooms since Chris died.  At the heart of it, I think it has to do with feeling like I’m erasing him.  Erasing our life together.  I realize that would be impossible to do, but I’m having a hard time painting over things that Chris painted, changing things that he had his hands on.  As tired as I may be of certain colors/decor items, I like having his “stamp” on the house.

I was talking with my therapist about this at my appointment on Saturday and, while normal and common, she did say it’s a way of me not allowing myself to move on.  Of not wanting to make a life for Shane and I that doesn’t involve Chris.  I realize this is true and I know coming to that conclusion isn’t rocket science, but it’s a big deal to admit it.

She suggested starting with something non-permanent, like re-arranging furniture.  If I didn’t like it, if it didn’t feel right, I could always move it back.  I had been wanting to try to move around the furniture in our bedroom for years - but pregnancy/newborns/infertility/cancer were always getting in the way.  So Saturday night I bit the bullet.  I moved the bed and everything else fell into place.

For the most part, I like it.  I think the room looks bigger and more open.  Our dressers are no longer lined up military style on the same wall.  It’s a nice change.  There are a few things though that are keeping me from 100% committing to the new setup:

-There’s only room for one nightstand.  The other nightstand is currently in my hallway and will remain there for the foreseeable future.  I kept the nightstand that was on Chris’ side of the bed in the room, and tried to convince myself that only using one nightstand, as long as it was his nightstand, was okay.  I haven’t bought the line I’ve been trying to sell myself yet.  Seeing the other nightstand in the hallway is a bit of a reminder - why only one nightstand is needed.  It’s not like he ever really even used it, the drawer only housed old/beaten up/dog chewed television remotes - but it’s what that nightstand represents that keeps me from being okay with eliminating it.

-When I lay in bed at night I end up staring at the group of photos that once hung over the bed (I haven’t moved any of the “wall decor” yet.  Still waiting on that 100% commitment before doing that).  There’s something about staring at the photo that hung over his head for all those years that just seems wrong.  The photo was a wedding gift, so for the last (almost) 5 years of his life, it hung over him while he slept.  It’s strange to open my eyes and see it there, only to roll over and see that the other side of the bed is still empty and that a dresser now sits where a second nightstand should be.

So we’ll see what happens.  I’ll either convince myself it’s okay, or one night (likely around midnight) I’ll decide I just can’t live like this any longer and I’ll put it all back the way it used to be.

For now, the random pieces of our bedroom furniture, displaced throughout the house, will remain as a reminder.  A reminder of the fact that I’m TRYING to convince myself it’s okay to make a life without Chris physically being here.  A reminder that moving on doesn’t erase him from the house or from our hearts.  But still, it’s an internal struggle.

We’ll see which side of me wins in the long run.

Meet Kylee.

She’s our “first born”.  We rescued Kylee from an animal shelter in Long Island in September of 2002.  She was 5 months old and spent her first few weeks with us in Chris’ lap.  From the very beginning she was a Daddy’s girl.

A few weeks ago I noticed her limping around the house.  We have 2 dogs.  One of them is almost always limping from one kind of injury or another - that happens when you have more than one dog and they’re constantly playing, wrestling and chasing squirrels.  I gave her an advil and pretty much shrugged it off.  Most of the time in a day or two they’re running around again.  Most of the time.  Not this time.  After a few days I realized she was pretty much only walking on the toes of her bad paw.  I knew something was up, I had my suspicions, as we’ve been down this road once before, and I called the vet.  To them it sounded like a sprain and they wanted me to wait out the weekend.  That Monday, when she wasn’t any better, I called again and I brought her in.   The vet thought she injured a tendon or something, gave her an injection, some new pills and said to give it until the weekend.  The next step would be an x-ray.  $180 later I was walking out the door.

Fast forward to Saturday, I already had a vet appointment for Zoe to get her annual shots and I called to see if it would be okay for Kylee to tag along - she was still limping.  My sister helped me drag (literally) both dogs into the vet and $182 I had an appointment on Tuesday for an x-ray.  It was definitely her knee causing the problem.

Two days ago Kylee had that x-ray, and $219 later, we had the diagnosis I was hoping for - a ruptured ACL.  She goes in for surgery next Wednesday (to the tune of almost $2,000).

I say “hoping for” because I prayed for an injury.  An injury of ANY kind that could be repaired - no matter the cost.  I couldn’t handle an illness.  I NEEDED this to be an injury.  And thankfully, it was.  Am I thrilled with having already dropped $600 at the vet - not exactly.  Am I excited to be forking over another $2,000 - not at all.  But I don’t care.  I don’t care because it’s not an illness.  I’m thrilled with that.  Zoe blew her ACL in December of 2008 and had the same surgery that Kylee will be having on Wednesday - so I know the track record of this surgery (and this vet).  I know it works.  And money, in the long run, is only money.  I suppose that’s something else you learn when dealing with cancer.

And I’m sure there are people reading this who can’t believe we’d spend that kind of money on our pets.  But we have.  I will.  And I would again.  Chris and I are dog people to the core.  Our girls truly are our family.  And there’s not much we wouldn’t have done for either of them.  And now, with Chris gone, I have even more reason to do all I can for them.  Not only are they my babies, but they are now another connection to Chris.  Kylee, after all, has always been a Daddy’s girl.

And the irony in this whole thing (because apparently that’s how my life rolls these days) is that we’ve always had pet insurance, until Chris died.  And then I canceled it to save the $45/month.  And now that savings is costing me $2,600.

C’est la vie, I suppose.  C’est la vie.

A few photos from this winter that got “left behind”:

Stitches:

Best buds:

These 3 are my entire world, I love how they love each other:

I love reading blogs online.  It’s one of my “things”.  Decorating blogs, craft blogs, photography blogs, mommy blogs, and now, widow blogs.

Reading these blogs makes me feel connected.  I get comfort from the blogs of other widows.  It helps me to feel not so alone on this awful journey.  These women write so honestly and it’s obvious the pain that they’re in, and I often think that I could’ve written those same words.  There’s comfort in knowing that others are walking this horrendous road with you.

But lately, maybe it’s because the holiday is quickly approaching, the other blogs are making me sad.  All these decorating ideas, craft ideas and photography skills to try.  All of these things that I would’ve done in a second if this was 2 years ago.  But now, so many of these things seem pointless.  What’s the point in creating beautiful Easter centerpieces when no one is there to enjoy them with you.  Shane certainly isn’t going to care how clean and “breathy” an all white centerpiece makes the table look.  He would never notice if I took the time to sew new slipcovers for the pillows on the couch in the family room.  And maybe most men wouldn’t have either, but Chris - he would’ve.  In a second.  And while he may not have always said something right away, I would overhear him telling someone about the pillows months later.  He’d say “she’s always doing things like that”.  I used to overhear him talk about my pictures all the time.  The talent he thought I had, even though I have SOOOO very much to learn.  He was my biggest supporter.  My number one fan.  He gave me reason to believe I could do anything.  And now, now I barely even pick up that camera any more.  The same camera he fought so hard for me to have.  The same camera he was SO excited to give me 2+ years ago.  I guess in a lot of ways I’m buying into the “why bother” attitude.  Those things, things I used to love to do, just don’t hold the same meaning anymore.  I used to want nothing more than to create the perfect home, the perfect holidays and the perfect memories for my family.  THAT was what I wanted my purpose in life to be.  This big, beautiful family that Chris and I were going to have.  And I feel like all of that has been torn away from me.  Ripped out from underneath me.  Stolen.  I feel like this family of just Shane and I is SO sad compared to the family we were supposed to have.   Now, instead of that picture perfect mom/dad/3 kids family we had planned, it’s just Shane and I.  His father is dead and he doesn’t have any siblings to share his life with, his struggles with, his successes with.  To go from having everything you wanted in life, and the hopes and dreams of having so much more, to being where we are now is just heart wrenching.  It’s a torturous, daily, painful struggle.  And it’s our life.  Our reality.  And it makes me angry.

All of this over an all white table centerpiece.  It still amazes me how my “widowed mind” works so differently from before.

I’m just coming off of one of the best weekends I’ve had in almost a year and a half, but it was also one of the most emotional ones.  Because of this, and because I don’t think I can handle much more emotion this week, I’m going to try to keep posts on the lighter side for the next few days.

-I’ve FINALLY got some pictures of the completed photo wall to share.

-I’ve got some pictures of some fun times, with great friends, from this past weekend to share.

-Aunt Trae is in town for a few days, so we can re-cap our fun times with her.

-If my cold/sinus infection straightens itself out, I’m DYING to finally meet baby Dylan and hopefully take some pictures of the cutie, along with his big brother, Brady!

-”Flashback Friday” will be a good one this week.  ”Fun in the sun”

Here’s to hoping I can pull this off and keep my emotions in check for a few days!  Back tomorrow with the pictures of the photo wall!

Dylan Michael
Born 3/17/10 at 9:11am
7lbs 9oz
19.5 inches

Congratulations to Kate, Jim and Big Brother Brady!

You don’t get over it, you just get through it. You don’t get by it, because you can’t get around it. It doesn’t ‘get better’; it just gets different. Everyday, grief puts on a new face. - Wendy Feiereisen

Found here.  Unfortunately, she knows this journey, too.

The last few weeks have been the kind that make me question why I do this.  Why I get out of bed and use everything within me to get Shane and I through the day that lies ahead.  Why I struggle to pretend like life is still happy.  Why I paint the smile on my face and practice making my voice sound joyful.  These weeks have made me look at the future and wonder if I can do THIS for the rest of my life.

The grief and raising Shane is all I can handle right now.  My plate is full.  I have TONS of help and support everyday, but my plate is still full.  I don’t have room, energy or strength (emotionally or physically) to deal with anything else.

But the “anything else” keeps coming anyway.

Shane and I are currently on “state assisted” health insurance.  It’s great for him, but it sucks for me.  Not only do none of my existing doctors take this insurance, but the walk-in center I often use doesn’t take it either.  Add to that the fact that there are VERY FEW doctors in the area that do take the insurance, and I’m pretty much left with having to go to the ER everytime I require any kind of medical attention. Two weeks ago I applied for insurance through Aetna for myself.  It’s slightly less affordable than the state assisted insurance, but all my doctors take it.  I learned yesterday that I was declined coverage because of the infertility treatments Chris and I went through.  So not only did I go through all of that invasive medical testing, only to quit when we got the cancer diagnosis, but now that same testing is keeping me from getting health insurance.  And I don’t even have a 2nd baby to show for it.  And the tests all came back clear.  And I was never officially diagnosed as having infertility.  So, yes, I’m appealing the decision - but it’s one more thing to worry about and have to take care of.

Add to that all the money I’ve been purging the last couple months and I totally feel like I’m drowning.  This accident will cost me at least $1,000 ($500 deductible and $500 for the rental) and that’s if my rates don’t go up (for an accident that wasn’t my fault, but apparently was).  I have to pull money out of the life insurance account every month to pay the mortgage - the same mortgage I can’t pay down and refinance on until the probate process is over.  I also just learned, yesterday as well, that the court fees and lawyer fees for the probate process will cost me $3,000 - and I don’t know what else involved in this process will cost me money.  I just feel like it’s a never ending, uphill battle.  And I get that almost everyone out there has similar financial issues, especially in this economy, but most people have their spouse sitting there next to them while they write the checks and wonder where the money for next weeks bills will come from.  And I know, in my head, that it’s not as bad as it sounds.  I know how much worse it could be.  My husband planned ahead, he made sure we’d be okay, he had decent life insurance policies, and yes - we are okay right now, but I’m worried about the future.  Shane’s 3 years old.  With any luck, we’ve got a lot of life ahead of us and probably not enough funds.

These last few weeks have tested me.  And I’m not sure I’ve faired very well.  I am nervous about the future.  About how I’ll do this on my own.  And being nervous on top of being sad is just more than I can handle right now.

I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better daycare-to-preschool transition.  Shane is just loving “pre-k” (I can’t use the word “school” or he FREAKS out).  LOVING.  He asks me every night while we’re lying in his bed if he can go to pre-k tomorrow and every morning he’s anxious and excited to get out of the house and to get to his new friends and teachers.  Every evening, when I go to pick him up, he’s always busy playing with the other kids and it always takes him a minute or two to even realize I’m there.  His teachers have nothing but fantastic things to say about him and they all agree that he’s doing REALLY well and really has just carved out a little place for himself there.  He’s excited about taking a lunch to school everyday and he’s eating most of it and is even “taking a rest” afterwards during quiet time!  I honestly couldn’t ask for more.  Shane is a remarkable little boy and I know his Daddy is keeping a watchful eye on him to make sure he’s doing the best he can do.  In that respect, I consider us lucky.

**********

It’s obvious to me that Chris has been on Shane’s mind a lot lately.  This morning he asked me for his LIVESTRONG bracelet - something he’s NEVER asked me for before.  So I got one out of my drawer and put it on his wrist.  And he left it there, didn’t even attempt to “play” with it.  And when we got to pre-k this morning, his teacher was telling me again how great he was doing.  She also said that Shane talks about his Dad all the time.  They think it’s Shane’s way of bringing people he doesn’t know that well into his world.  They think it’s a good thing and encourage him to talk about Chris.  I told his teacher that Chris’ biggest fear during our cancer battle was that something would happen to him (I hate that this fear came true) and that Shane wouldn’t remember who he was.  Miss Dotty told me that if what they’re seeing is any indication, Shane will never forget his dad.  For this, too, I consider us lucky.

**********

As for the accident on Tuesday, I had an estimate for repair in my hand by 1pm that afternoon (I’ve been very impressed with our insurance company - Travelers) and shortly after I ran out to get some lunch.  I noticed that the rear drivers side door wouldn’t close all the way after the appraiser had opened it to do his inspection.  I called our body shop to see if the car was safe to drive like this (I was worried about Shane being in the back seat - though his carseat is on the passenger side) and the body shop said probably not.  I ended up having to take the car down to the body shop that same afternoon and pick up a rental.  I’m now driving around in a car that’s not mine due to an accident that wasn’t my fault, but apparently is.  The more I think about things, the more I truly don’t see how all of this could be my fault.  I was driving on a ONE LANE road and put my blinker on to make the left hand turn.  There were NO cars coming from the opposite direction - it couldn’t have been any clearer for me to go - so it wasn’t even like I stopped or slowed down a lot.  I simply just made my turn and the guy BEHIND me hit ME.  If he wasn’t driving so close to me he should’ve/would’ve had more than enough time to stop - regardless of whether I made a wide turn or not.  And the cop, who let that guy go before he let me go, took off before I was even done talking to him to try to straighten this whole thing out (or at least try to understand how I could be at fault).  I’m just really annoyed and angry.  My insurance company said that they do their own investigation to determine fault, and I’m hoping they find I’m NOT, because if this affects my rates I’m going to be even more angry.  Ticket or no ticket, I’m going to have to fight it because I honestly don’t think I did anything wrong.   I’m tired of all the crap in my life.  The O’Connors’ have paid their dues.  It’s time to move on now, bad carma.  You’re not welcome here anymore.

**********

It’s weeks like this one that make Chris’ absence even more real.  I want his arms to fall into when life gets difficult.  I want his voice, his words, to calm me down and soothe away the hurt.  The anger.  The sadness.  I want him.  I want my husband.  I want Chris.  I’m tired of wanting.  I’m tired of missing.  I’m tired of sadness.  And of pain.  I want love again.  I want my husband.

**********

Finally, Happy Birthday to Aunt Trae!  We wish we were there with you.  We wish your brother was here to call you today (though I wish that for you everyday).  Have an amazing, amazing day - you totally deserve it!

It started off well.  Shane couldn’t wait to get in the car to go to preschool!  I kept telling him we’d leave in a minute.  He got tired of waiting for me and I found him sitting in his carseat in the garage, waiting for me to buckle him in!  He did GREAT yesterday!  He LOVED pre-k.  They read Cat in the Hat and the entire day was dedicated to crafts related to the book, including this one:

(camera phone picture)

It was way too cute listening to him tell me about the snacks he had (goldfish and pretzels) and his new friend (Cody)!  I’m so happy he’s loving it there and I hope it continues!

After dropping Shane off at preschool is when my morning got bad.  I was on my way to the accountant to drop off our tax stuff and as I was making the left hand (u-turn), I got hit.

(both taken with my camera phone)

I’m fine.  No one was hurt.  But despite the fact that I was in the front and I put my blinker on, the cop STILL said I was the one at fault.  He said I made a wide turn (”unsafe movement”) which puts the blame on me!!  It doesn’t make sense to me (and I told the cop that 4 or 5 times) and all he could tell me was to just calm down (I was crying), that it was just a simple accident.  That cop (along with the poor, really nice guy, who stopped to make sure we were okay) got the rundown on the last year of my life.  The cop couldn’t get away from the hysterical widow fast enough.  I wasn’t even crying because of the accident, or because he was saying it was my fault (and I don’t see how it was) - I was crying because I wanted the one thing I couldn’t have.  My husband.

Hopefully the day gets better from here.  Now I get to spend the day making calls to the insurance company and body shops and trying to hunt down a rental.

I miss you, Christian.

Our bathroom is TINY.  Imagine the smallest bathroom you can; cut it in half and you may just have our bathroom.

Because the room is so small, and because I was too lazy to take my 50mm lens off the “real” camera, I took all these photos with my point and shoot.  And I have a rule about not editing photos taken with the point and shoot - so these shots are straight out of the camera - funky lighting, shadow casts and all.  I hate not using natural light to take pictures; but seeing as how my new best friend (my cleaning lady) came yesterday, there was no way I could wait to take pictures.  A clean bathroom beat out natural light.  Go figure.

3 weeks ago this room was taken down to the studs.  The only thing we (and by we I mean my brother) didn’t take out was the tub.  The tub stayed.  50+ year old bathtub + no basement = a recipe for disaster when trying to replace.

Everything in this room was based off the shower curtain.  I got the shower curtain a year and a half ago from Target.  And I returned it a year and a half, minus one week, ago.  After Chris died and I started associating birds with my husband (it’s okay, he already knew I was crazy) I knew I had to have it back.  Thank God for ebay.

Again with the birds.  A vinyl decal that just peels right off.  I was unsure about it at first, but the more I live with it, the more I love it.

This shot shows the truest wall color.  It’s a great grey/blue color by Benjamin Moore called “Smoke”.

LOVE the VINYL floor.  L.O.V.E.

And the brand-spankin new ceiling in the office/mudroom/old dining room.  I still have lots of paint touchups to do in here - maybe this weekend.  It’s been a busy month at our house.