Kicking ass her own way
At the beginning of the school year I told Baby Girls new teacher (5th grade, seriously) our story. You know the one about how in the middle of second grade I woke Baby Girl up in the middle of the night to tell her that her daddy was dead. That's always a great story to start off with. I guess I figure its better to get it over with, maybe it will create less awkwardness later. I told her about how hard life has been since than and how this grief thing is worse then anyone can possibly imagine. I told her about how Baby Girl (and I) just basically shut down for the last two years. She responded with "well how could you not" It was then that I knew this teacher got us.
We had had a really good summer. I finally felt like ok maybe we could deal with this grief thing. I relayed this information to her teacher and how I wanted to keep this good momentum going. How above else we could not have another year like last year where Baby Girl came home from school crying every day. She did that because she was grieving, she held it in as long as she could and it came spilling out in fourth grade. Fourth grade was absolutely awful. Just thinking about it now makes me cringe. We could not go through that again. Her teacher seemed pretty confident 5th grade would be a great year.
At parent teacher conferences in October Baby Girl got glowing reviews about how well she was doing. There was only one small criticism, she could tend to be a bit of a chatter box. I looked at my child and she gave me a sly little smile. I said "o really?" to her teacher and just kinda shook my head and said "hmmmmmmm". In my brain I was doing that thing where you raise your fist in the air and bring your elbow down as you're screaming YES because something awesome just happened.
YES! This is my child. This is my child who started talking at nine months old. This is my child who could say simple sentences by her first birthday. This is my child who at her two year old check up I was flabbergasted to learn she was only expected to know 20 words. Ya she knew at least 200, she could talk in complete sentences. This is my child who in preschool had over half the class sitting in front of her mesmerized as she told them stories at recess. This is my child who I used to wish would just stop talking for five seconds while we were in the car.
This is my child whose world stopped when she was only 7. This is when the car became silent, so silent it became eerie. This is when her principle said she never ever talked in school. This is when it seemed like only one person in school (her favorite teacher) could get her to say anything at all. This is when she stopped telling stories. It just stopped, all her talking stopped, she barely even talked to me. I think perhaps it's because her all time favorite person to talk to was dead and the rest of us simply wouldn't do. I get that.
I had a parent meeting with Baby Girls therapist last week. Without Baby Girl, so we could talk about her. Grown ups to that. I told him about how at conferences her teacher said she was a bit of a chatter box. He didn't have to do it in his head, he did it right there in real life, punched his fist up in the air, brought his elbow down and yelled YES. He knows Baby Girl pretty good. We then talked about how she is improving. he is more open. Her anxiety is so much less, you can tell just by looking at her that her anxiety is so much less. Then he said something interesting, it never occurred to me before but as soon as he told me I went "well duh because that is exactly like her father" He said that over the past almost three years she has been processing all this grief internally. she is an internal thinker. That's the part were I went duh she is exactly like her father. Dan was always an internal thinker it used to drive me nuts because I am an external thinker. That's probably why I have this blog, easier for me to think out loud, after all I don't have Dan to share my thoughts with anymore so I might as well share them with the entire world. Then her therapist said something even more amazing he said she has done so much grief work that he is astounded, that he would estimate she has done five years worth of a normal childs grief work in three. That's my kid, the internal overachiever, exactly like her father.
We talked more about how Baby Girl is doing great, we are considering lessening her sessions after the evil month of January, we are also considering starting to ween he off her medication at that time. Yes I chose to give my then nine year old antidepressant medication, she was in a bad place, she needed help and I got it for her. If you want to read about me coming to that decision click here . Then we talked about that scary scary future. What if we take her off medication and she gets worse again? what if we lesson therapy and she gets worse? what if? what if? what if? Here's the ten million dollar answer, we will deal with it when we get there. I kinda hate that answer but it is the only one there is. People (kids are people) grieve differently at different times in their lives. Kids grieve differently as they grow and mature and understand death and grief differently. Awesome, I can't wait (thats sarcasm) For right now though Baby Girl is kicking griefs ass. "What do I do in the meantime?" I asked him before I left. "Keep working your ass off" he replied. Dude that is so much work, I am tired. "I know" he said "But you are doing a great job and I'm pretty sure that even with out all this grief stuff shes the kind of kid that would keep you on your toes" Yup yup exactly like her dad, thats how she was before, kept us both on our toes, but now it's just me. I'm short ten toes.
Her daddy would be so proud of her. I can imagine him punching his fist in the air and bringing his elbow down and saying "YES! THAT'S MY GIRL" I just wish I could really see him do it instead of imagining it.
I on the other hand don't know what I'm doing.
We had had a really good summer. I finally felt like ok maybe we could deal with this grief thing. I relayed this information to her teacher and how I wanted to keep this good momentum going. How above else we could not have another year like last year where Baby Girl came home from school crying every day. She did that because she was grieving, she held it in as long as she could and it came spilling out in fourth grade. Fourth grade was absolutely awful. Just thinking about it now makes me cringe. We could not go through that again. Her teacher seemed pretty confident 5th grade would be a great year.
At parent teacher conferences in October Baby Girl got glowing reviews about how well she was doing. There was only one small criticism, she could tend to be a bit of a chatter box. I looked at my child and she gave me a sly little smile. I said "o really?" to her teacher and just kinda shook my head and said "hmmmmmmm". In my brain I was doing that thing where you raise your fist in the air and bring your elbow down as you're screaming YES because something awesome just happened.
YES! This is my child. This is my child who started talking at nine months old. This is my child who could say simple sentences by her first birthday. This is my child who at her two year old check up I was flabbergasted to learn she was only expected to know 20 words. Ya she knew at least 200, she could talk in complete sentences. This is my child who in preschool had over half the class sitting in front of her mesmerized as she told them stories at recess. This is my child who I used to wish would just stop talking for five seconds while we were in the car.
This is my child whose world stopped when she was only 7. This is when the car became silent, so silent it became eerie. This is when her principle said she never ever talked in school. This is when it seemed like only one person in school (her favorite teacher) could get her to say anything at all. This is when she stopped telling stories. It just stopped, all her talking stopped, she barely even talked to me. I think perhaps it's because her all time favorite person to talk to was dead and the rest of us simply wouldn't do. I get that.
I had a parent meeting with Baby Girls therapist last week. Without Baby Girl, so we could talk about her. Grown ups to that. I told him about how at conferences her teacher said she was a bit of a chatter box. He didn't have to do it in his head, he did it right there in real life, punched his fist up in the air, brought his elbow down and yelled YES. He knows Baby Girl pretty good. We then talked about how she is improving. he is more open. Her anxiety is so much less, you can tell just by looking at her that her anxiety is so much less. Then he said something interesting, it never occurred to me before but as soon as he told me I went "well duh because that is exactly like her father" He said that over the past almost three years she has been processing all this grief internally. she is an internal thinker. That's the part were I went duh she is exactly like her father. Dan was always an internal thinker it used to drive me nuts because I am an external thinker. That's probably why I have this blog, easier for me to think out loud, after all I don't have Dan to share my thoughts with anymore so I might as well share them with the entire world. Then her therapist said something even more amazing he said she has done so much grief work that he is astounded, that he would estimate she has done five years worth of a normal childs grief work in three. That's my kid, the internal overachiever, exactly like her father.
We talked more about how Baby Girl is doing great, we are considering lessening her sessions after the evil month of January, we are also considering starting to ween he off her medication at that time. Yes I chose to give my then nine year old antidepressant medication, she was in a bad place, she needed help and I got it for her. If you want to read about me coming to that decision click here . Then we talked about that scary scary future. What if we take her off medication and she gets worse again? what if we lesson therapy and she gets worse? what if? what if? what if? Here's the ten million dollar answer, we will deal with it when we get there. I kinda hate that answer but it is the only one there is. People (kids are people) grieve differently at different times in their lives. Kids grieve differently as they grow and mature and understand death and grief differently. Awesome, I can't wait (thats sarcasm) For right now though Baby Girl is kicking griefs ass. "What do I do in the meantime?" I asked him before I left. "Keep working your ass off" he replied. Dude that is so much work, I am tired. "I know" he said "But you are doing a great job and I'm pretty sure that even with out all this grief stuff shes the kind of kid that would keep you on your toes" Yup yup exactly like her dad, thats how she was before, kept us both on our toes, but now it's just me. I'm short ten toes.
Her daddy would be so proud of her. I can imagine him punching his fist in the air and bringing his elbow down and saying "YES! THAT'S MY GIRL" I just wish I could really see him do it instead of imagining it.
I on the other hand don't know what I'm doing.
I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle
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