Sunday, 6 December 2015

Things that make me sad

This has been brewing in my head for a while now. Sadness comes when I am tired, sick, and sometimes at odd and unexpected times. A couple of weeks ago I went to Goderich for the first time since July 29th, and as we drove right past the spot where I was hit, I was not sad. I was flabbergasted. In my mind's eye I had pictured the stretch of road where it happened and knew it was flat, but I had not pictured it correctly. It is straight and flat for at least three kilometers. Unbelieveable, but it did not make me sad, just fueled my fire of frustration. I'll save that for another day. I have plans for it, you know.

Dancing. About two weeks prior, the kids and I went to the tent sale held by the shoe store in Wingham. I found these lovely high heeled dancing shoes, and since they were only $10, I bought them. I decided that Theo and I would start dancing again! We had taken dancing lessons before we got married 16 years ago, and we had talked about doing it again. I even stopped in at the QB to show Les. Last weekend those shoes made an appearance...on Ella's feet. Seeing those made me sad for all the dancing that we may never do again.

Jeans. A few weeks ago Lara came to help me sort my clothes and put them on shelves that I would be able to reach - no more sending Theo up to find a specific t-shirt. So Lara, being the clothes-hound that she is, found a few gems in my piles. One of those was my favourite pair of jeans that Lara and I had found at "Bibles" second-hand store back in the spring. Silver jeans, for $5, that fit beautifully. These jeans fit, snug, just right, and had shiny buttons on the back pockets. Neither of these things work with my "new" body. My lack of abdominal muscle function means that my once flat-for-a-forty-something-mother-of-two stomach is no longer. Tight jeans are pretty hard to get up, I would have to roll back and forth in my bed a lot before I would be able to get them up, and even then, they would likely not do up. And the buttons? Can't do those either, they create skin issues. The bling I can do without, but the shape of my body I miss. Immensely.

Snuggles and holding hands. I lost three months with my kids, and a future not clouded by life with a wheelchair. So now, when they snuggle in beside me in bed it brings tears to my eyes. What I missed and what I almost missed - the rest of their lives. And how about going for a walk? So now I roll along, and sure the kids can walk beside me, but I can't roll and hold hands at the same time. There is just something so special about walking along holding your kids hands, their's so soft and comfortable in your's. Perhaps it is because you know that they won't want to hold your hand forever.

Flutter kick. Being in the pool last week felt a lot closer to normal then ever before. I was able to stretch out my stroke so that my speed also increased. Doing this helped bring my legs up closer to the surface of the water instead of just dragging along in a bent position. But that is all they do, just drag along behind me. I may never be able to do flutter kick again. That may seem weird to you, that I would miss that, but it really is the one activity that can not be replaced by something else. My cool-down flutter-kick-and-chat with my training partner in the pool will be no longer.

Feeling skin on skin. This is so incredibly personal. To not be able to feel Theo laying beside me sends my mind to some dark places. We all know about the healing power of can I heal my body if I can't feel? This is where my soul aches the most.

There are undoubtedly many other things that will make me sad over the course of the next weeks, months and years. Talking about them helps, and so does crying. Grieving the losses will not end any time soon.


  1. Feeling sad with you. :( I think of you daily.

  2. "There is just something so special about walking along holding your kids hands, their's so soft and comfortable in your's." Yes, definitely -- or your spouse's...
    Thank you for daring to share so personally, openly. No simple response on this one as anything would seem pat, trite. Praying for you even in the dark moments.

  3. Sad. All of it. Your honesty brings me to a place of humbleness and prayer. For you. For all of us who struggle.

  4. I am crying as I read this. We don't often appreciate what we have until it is gone.You have much to be sad about, but you also are such a positive person. That is a major blessing. I am praying for you.


  5. Dancing isn't out of the question! Wheelchair Ballroom dance was honestly the greatest thing I ever discovered. I really regret not being able to continue with it when I left Canada... But it was time for new adventures for me.
    If you're interested, there's an amazing lady in Kingston who I can put you in touch with. Even though I'm now more mobile (when I'm not breaking bones) I still actually prefer wheel dance to standing dance. Go search YouTube if you need inspiration... You might even run across a few videos of me dancing.