Trajectory (wow thats a big word)

And I spelled it right on the first try (yes I checked) go me. This has nothing to do with what i'm about to blog. well trajectory does but not my spelling abilities or lack there of.

A month after Dan died I was in the car driving Baby Girl to therapy. Play therapy because she's seven.  She needed therapy because I woke her up in the middle of the night a month earlier to tell her her daddy was dead. To me this was a given, of course she was going to need therapy. we were both going to need lots and lots of therapy. It's ok, therapy is good for you, everyone go to therapy.

Baby Girl did not like going to therapy. She didn't like missing school. She hated trying to come up with excuses to tell her classmates where she was because even at seven years old she knew somehow it was taboo and didn't want to tell her friends. She didn't like talking about her feelings, especially feelings about daddy being dead.  I'm not sure where she got that from since her dad was a therapist and knew the importance of expressing feelings and her mom writes her feelings on the internet for the whole world to see.

Therapy was 40 minutes away, an hour if traffic was bad. For the first two years every single week Baby Girl protested going to therapy by kicking the back of my seat, throwing whatever she could get her hands on, and crying non stop. She also liked to scream things at the top of her lungs like "I don't want to go" "your a mean mean mommy" "if you loved me you wouldn't make me go." "I'm not going and you can't make me." well she always lost that one. I drove anyway. I drove her to and from therapy every week because I knew she needed it.  After about two years she stopped screaming and kicking and just grumbled the whole way. After about three years she more or less went willingly. 

Baby Girls grief was no joke. It was harsh and raw and intense. I couldn't stand to watch her going through this mess of missing her daddy, her best friend, her hero. I don't really have the words to express how awful it was, I have written several blogs about it, you can scroll back and read those. She was hurt, she was scared, she was traumatized and it took it's toll. So we went to therapy.

Every so often I would have parent meetings with MTD (thats short for magic therapy dude aka Baby Girls therapist) "I can't do this...I can't stand this... she is not ok...i don't know how to help her...I'm failing her" I would poor my worries out. MTD would tell me I was doing a good job, that I was a good mom. I only sort of believed him.

I used to think I was a good mom, or at least going in that trajectory, Our kid was pretty kick ass, Dan and I used to say she was going to grow up and conquer the world. She could do nothing less, she was headed in that trajectory. She was just that awesome and headstrong that she would make it happen.

Then he died. Dan died. Daddy died.  Then it was a wonder if I could get her to eat anything, I considered candy for breakfast a success. Then it was a struggle every single day to get her to school. It was a struggle every single night to go to bed. Baby Girl developed extreme anxiety, life was scary now.  The thought of her conquering the world was gone, she would never be that girl now, she was too afraid now, not the daredevil spitfire fearless girl she used to be.  I told my friends, 'it will be a miracle if I can get her to graduate high school now. forget conquering the world, or going to college, lets just try and get through high school.'

Two years after Dan died Baby Girl was in fourth grade. That year was brutal. It was just so bad, I don't know how we survived. That year MTD recommended anti-depressants for my nine year old, because it was that bad. He was right or course she needed some serious help. That year she came home from school everyday and cried. She missed more school because of anxiety then I can even count.That year I told my friends 'forget high school were not even going to make it through fourth grade.' Dear God just get us through fourth grade.

Somehow she graduated fourth grade, and then fifth grade. Life was not back to normal because it never will be again, but life was settling down. I started to think maybe we could get through high school after all. She stopped kicking and screaming all the way to therapy and started going somewhat willingly. we went from going every single week to going every three weeks. Sometimes she even talked about her feelings and her daddy.

About a month ago we were making our 40 minute drive to MTD. We have been going for four years now. We were listening to music and Baby Girl turned to me and said "Mommy I don't think I need to see MTD anymore, I think I'm ok"  It may have been the most grown up statement she has ever said. I was totally blown away by her calmness and composure. She was not screaming or kicking or crying, she was having a conversation. "I am absolutely willing to discuss this with MTD" I told her.  So we did. MTD also acknowledged this move in trajectory and we set up a parent meeting to discuss it.

At the meeting MTD talked about how much she has grown, especially over the last year. How much grief she has been able to process. "She is really smart after all" he said. Ya she takes after her daddy that way. MTD talked about how hard it was, how we were all afraid she wouldn't get through this, but she is. She is doing great. "Ya" I said "You know Dan and I used to say she was going to grow up and conquer the world. She was just headed..." "In that trajectory" MTD interrupted, he knew.  I continued "I thought that was all lost with Dan, I thought she wasn't gonna make it through high school. I thought she wasn't gonna make it through fourth grade, but now..." "shes headed in that trajectory again" MTD interrupted.

We had our last appointment with MTD. We brought the cats and had cup cakes. We played. MTD and I were both very adamant that if Baby Girl ever wants to come see MTD again about anything at all she only need to say so. Baby Girl said ok but she wouldn't need to. After all shes headed back in her trajectory.

To read my book about grief click here: Carry on Castle