THAT ROOM

Writing does require a lot of energy.  It's so much easier to just not think.  But... even if I avoid thinking and just stay distracted and busy, it never goes away.  It's like Grief eventually just stands in front of me, face to face, demanding my attention.

Several weeks ago, I wrote about transitioning to a 'new' church, starting to direct the choir - just... changes.

So far, Jason and the kids are transitioning back into MPC.  *I* can't go on Sunday mornings.  It's too hard.

I am going on Wednesday nights for choir practice.  I can manage choir practice.  I get there right at 6, I park where I see as few people as possible between my car and the choir room, and I do what I need to do.

I do enjoy it - leading choir practice.  I do enjoy it.  :-)

But talking to people just scares me.  I wish it didn't.  But it does.  Maybe it won't always scare me.

This is what I need to write about today:  band.

We all know I love to play in a band.  :-)  And I get to play with the MPC band for their fall festival on October 19.

I do need to say here - I miss my GF band.  I'd like to come back and play with you one day in the near future.  :-)  I need to come back and play with you soon.

Anyway... if I'm going to play with MPC's band for the fall festival, I have to go to practice.  I don't mind practicing.  In fact, I enjoy practices.

But not when they're in MPC's worship center.

When I walk into that room, vivid memories of funeral day flood my mind.  The door through which we entered, the music that was playing, who I saw in the seats and on the stage, seeing Elliana's casket at the front center of the room, remembering the pictures that sat on the stage, 'seeing' Jeremy at the front of the room, playing the piano during the service, some of Jeremy's words, the moment Jason picked up her casket, walking back down the aisle, leaving the building, watching Jason put her in the back of the hearse - I remember it all so clearly.

So... I've spent many hours in that room by myself, playing the piano.  Not sure that there was ever an actual 'goal' in playing.  I just needed to play.

And then one time, there was someone up in the sound booth while I played.  I was ok with that.  One person, far away, in the sound booth, not interacting with me, but hearing me play.

And then another time, there were two people in the sound booth.  I was mostly ok with that.  They were working something out, but they were far away, not interacting with me, and hearing me play.

And then this past Wednesday, I attempted a band practice.  Just the last 15 minutes of it.  I walked in through the kitchen (because I can't go through the front doors - call me crazy) and stood in the back watching for a couple minutes.

The band leader, my friend, 'N', played at the funeral that day in October.  He was standing in the same spot, playing his guitar, singing.

Then 'N' saw me and motioned for me to go ahead and come up.

It took so much effort to walk from the back of the room to the stage.  I couldn't walk down the center aisle - that's where I walked on funeral day.  I went around - down one of the side aisles.  I didn't want to look at anyone, talk to anyone, have conversations with anyone - I just wanted to sit (hide) behind the piano and play.  And mostly, that's what happened.

I played.  With 'N', another guitarist, the bass guy, and the drummer.  And one other singer.  I got teary-eyed a couple times.  And I was only there about 15 minutes - which is about all I could have handled, I think.  And afterwards, I just wanted to leave - without talking to anyone.  It's difficult to think about having conversations about anything/anyone other than Elliana in that room.  

I made it through Wednesday night.  15 minutes.  With 4+ people in the room.  But it was so hard.

There was another band practice today at 4.

If I hadn't had to drive myself to practice, I might have had a glass of wine before band practice.  :-)  But, I had to drive, so the wine waited til after practice.

So... here's my play-by-play of 'Sunday Afternoon Band Practice in THE ROOM'.

I parked in the back.   I think it feels like I'm hiding if I park in the back.

I texted 'N' to ask if he'd mind letting me in a side door - because I couldn't go through the front doors.

'N' opened the door for me.  (Thanks, N.)

I walked S L O W L Y across the room, passing the spot where Elliana's casket had been.

I think I walked even slower up the stairs to the piano on the stage.

While everyone else arrived, I tried not to think.  And although I'm pretty successful at *not thinking* when I need to *not think*, I think it's just harder in that room.  So... I failed at *not thinking*, and I got teary-eyed.  I remembered a box of tissues in the side room, so I grabbed a tissue.

I thought about leaving.  I thought about just leaving.  I really wasn't sure I was going to be able to do band practice at all.

But after we started playing, it got a little easier.  If I focus mainly on the music (and not so much on the words), I'm ok.

And then - at the end of practice - I got to lead a song.  I got to lead - in a great big room, with a drummer and lots of guitars.

And I really enjoyed it.

In THAT ROOM, with such hard memories... I enjoyed leading a song.

This song.

The only way I can really sing it is to just not think about it.  Because when I think, the tears are just there.  And the tears come because I don't know how to reconcile the truth of what I'm singing (which, to be honest, feels like BS sometimes) with the reality of this life.  With brokenness.  And death.

So... I don't think when I'm singing.  :-)

But I enjoyed it.  I enjoyed something in that room.  THAT ROOM, where my baby girl laid a few feet away from me.  THAT ROOM, where I couldn't hold her anymore.  THAT ROOM - the last place I was able to 'be with her' before we buried her.

It made me smile - to lead that song, and play with the band.  IN THAT ROOM.

It felt like a big deal.  Maybe it won't be quite so hard to go in that room for band practice on Wednesday.

Don't Even Know What to Call it.

I feel like I don't remember how to write anymore.  I think I'm afraid that writing will require thinking, which will require energy - emotional energy.  And I'm just not sure if I want to put energy into *any* of it.

I wrote about starting to direct the choir.  I feel like such a mess.  I do have a plan each week, I can manage to think through what I want to accomplish.  But when it comes to standing in front of all those people who are just sitting there watching me, I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing.  I can't think of the words I want to say, I avoid eye contact, I fumble through warm ups, I mix up the parts.  

My mind wanders to the place on the other side of the wall where I sat beside Elliana as friends came to hug us on October 10.

My mind goes there.  In the middle of a song, the middle of a phrase, or the end of a phrase when I'm supposed to be giving the choir a cut-off... my mind goes there.  

And it's hard not to think things like, 'I'm not a choir director any more.  I'm the mom of a child who has died who's just *trying* to direct a choir.'

Threw a few wine bottles tonight.  Choir practice + band practice in the room where the funeral was + conversation with someone who had *no idea* where I've been over the last 13 months = the need to throw something.

Will probably have to clean up some glass tomorrow.

My baby girl's first birthday is right around the corner.  And I have no idea what I'm going to do. 

Done. For Today.

New flowers and a very clean stone. :-)

 

The aching hurt so much more today.  It's been sort of a dull ache the past several weeks - probably since the week we went to the beach.  But today - this morning - her absence felt so much heavier.  The ache, so much sharper.

Football season has begun.  Jason was convinced that Elliana 'liked' football.  It was their thing.  :-)

I wish I'd been able to bring her home.  Rock her to sleep.  Hold her in one arm and do dishes with the other.  Change her diapers.  Give her a bath.  Watch her kick her feet.  Hold her in my lap during a meal and try to keep grabby little hands away from my plate.  Kiss her sweet cheeks.

I wish I knew what she would have looked like at 11 months old.  

I've been putting it off, but I *will* do it tomorrow.  There will be new flowers at the garden tomorrow.  And a clean stone.  

Flashbacks

I don't know what else to call them.

The grief counselor I've been seeing calls them 'painful emotional memories' (I think).  That doesn't feel like a strong enough phrase.  And 'flashback' doesn't seem like a strong enough word.  One thing I've learned through grief counseling is that the brain 'maps' things differently under traumatic circumstances.  It helps to understand that, to a degree - at least I know why I have such vivid memories between July 3, 2012 and October 17, 2012.

One vivid memory came back tonight.

This may require a TMI 'warning'.  Although, it's not, like, anything explicit.  Just...  personal.  On a scale of 1-10 ('1' being safe for all audiences, and '10' being really, truly TMI), I'd give this a 5 or 6, I think.

I have a really weird pregnancy symptom.  I've experienced it with Levi, Seth, the twins, and Elliana.  Direct heat exposure to my face, either from opening the oven or hot water from the shower head, makes my sinuses hurt.

It's weird.  I've never heard of anyone else experiencing that.

But it only happens when I'm pregnant.  So I'm certain that it's a 'symptom' of pregnancy.

I remember the first shower I had after Elliana was born.  Sunday afternoon, October 7, 2012.  We had a couple visitors in the hospital early that Sunday afternoon, and then I took a shower before more visitors arrived.

I didn't care about taking a shower.  I really didn't care about anything that day.

But I took one.  I remember it very clearly.  I remember the moment that I let the hot water fall on my face.  I remember my sinuses not hurting.  I remember cupping my hands and filling them with the hot water, splashing it on my face, over and over.  And over.  And my sinuses didn't hurt anymore.  I remember crying.  Sobbing in the shower.

She was gone.

It's been unusually cold today.  August 17 - my Seth's 3rd birthday.  The high today was sixty-something.  Unheard of in August.  Maybe it was the coolness of the day - the 'chill' in the house - that brought that memory back so vividly when I took a shower and splashed the hot water on my face this evening.

Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of my stretch-mark-scarred tummy.  After Seth was born, I had the most bizarre-looking scar.  It reminded me of a tiara.  And as silly as it may sound, I like to think of the tiara scar as a foreshadowing to my baby girl.  :-)  My belly button was the sort of half-moon shaped 'crown', and there were four stretch-mark scars above it that made it look like a picture of a tiara.  (I know - it's weird.)  But since Elliana was born, the scars have changed.  The tiara is gone.  The scars aren't quite so obvious now.

I miss her.  I miss the ache in my sinuses.  I miss the scars.

I just miss her.

Churches, a Choir, and a Cantata

A friend has recently asked me about my faith - if and how I'm struggling right now.  I don't think I'm quite ready to blog about that.  Soon, I think.

I am ready to blog about church, though.

History:

Summer of 1999, Jason and I started attending MPC.  Loved it.  LOVED it.  It quickly became home.

Fall of 1999, Jason began working towards his MDiv.

Sometime around there, MPC hired Jason as a pastoral intern.

Fall 2002, MPC transferred Jason's internship to GFC to help our friends, Jeremy & Gina, who were planting this daughter church about 30 minutes away.

GFC became our church home.  And we've been there ever since.

We love our church - so much.

Last October, Elliana's funeral was at MPC.  Mainly because MPC is 10 minutes from our house, and GFC is 30.  It made more sense for us to plan services and make all of those difficult arrangements close to home.

Over the past few months, we've come to believe that God is calling us away from GFC.  There are several reasons, and I don't really need to go into them here.  But I will say - we're not leaving because we're angry or hurt.  It's just time.

But it hurts to leave.  Church feels like the last piece of 'normal' that I have left.  Everything has changed.  And I've wanted things to be different, but leaving our church... this one is really hard.  Back in May, Jason and I decided that we'd stay at GFC through the end of the summer.  And as the end of August gets closer, it gets harder to think about not having that last piece of 'normal'.  The 30-minute drive, band practice, the people who are my church family, lunch with friends after the service - those things are the last bit of 'normal' I have left.  So much of life has changed.  And church - my church - has been constant.

After we leave GFC, we'll go back to MPC.  And it is so hard to think about going back there.

I have so many difficult memories there.

That room - the worship center at MPC - is where I sat and stared at my daughter's casket.

That is where I played the piano with my band people - the only way I could communicate anything that day.

That is where Jason carried her for the last time.

That is where my heart broke all over again.

I can go back there and play - by myself.  I've been to MPC several times over the past months.  I sit at that great big grand piano and play angry pieces.  Sad pieces.

And this past Thursday, I took a small (well, big) step - I started playing while there were two other people in the room.

That was HUGE.  To play with other people in the room.  And I did it.

But I don't know how I'm going to walk into that room on a Sunday morning with hundreds of people in it - people who are laughing and hugging.  And singing and clapping (maybe) and smiling.  I don't know how I'm going to do it.

It feels impossible.

I do have to admit something.  I don't want to admit it, but I need to.

Throwing lots and lots (AND LOTS) of really breakable things **here**.

God - the One I'm really angry with - has given me something to make this transition a bit... easier?  That feels like the wrong word.  It's not 'easier'.  I don't know what it is.  But I do know (think?) it's a gift.

A couple months ago, MPC's music director called me (not knowing we were leaving GFC or planning to come back to MPC) and asked if I'd be willing to help with their Christmas cantata.

And not just help.  Direct.  Like, the choir and orchestra.

The last time I directed anything was at least 10 years ago.  And the last time I conducted an orchestra... well, I don't even want to talk about that.

But... I get to do something I love.  And doing that something sort of helps me.

When I walk into 'that room' now (MPC's worship center), I won't just 'see' Elliana's casket in that spot in front of the stage.  I'll be looking at the stage and the stairs, trying to figure out the best places for the choir and orchestra on 'performance' nights in December.  When I walk into that room now, it won't just be a painful reminder of October 10, 2012.

That room won't just have a really painful history.

It holds... vision?

The One Who I'm really angry with - the One who created my little girl with such a broken body, the One who created her without a chance at survival, the One who took her away from me so quickly after she was born - I don't want to admit that any of this is a gift from Him.

But it is.  This whole Christmas cantata thing and my role in it - He gave me that.  He gave me music.

I still don't know how I'm going to walk into that room with all those people in it.  Or how I'll ever participate in a Wednesday evening meal in that room.  It just feels so casual - and there's nothing casual about that room to me.

Taking baseball bats to laptops *here*.

My first choir rehearsal is this Wednesday night.

AND I. AM. COMPLETELY. FREAKING. OUT.

What if I don't remember how to do this?  What if my director's hands and arms are as lost as my brain is right now?



 

Frustration

Remember that other world in which I occasionally live?  I can't get out of it.  I feel so disconnected from... I don't even know what.  Reality?  Grief?  My baby girl?

I know that some really difficult transitions are coming.  Leaving our church of 10+ years.  Levi starting kindergarten.  Down to 'only 1 at home'.  Maybe my brain is just 'protecting' me from feeling the weight of those things in addition to grief.

I don't know.

But I'm frustrated with this place - it almost feels like it never happened.  Like Elliana never even existed.

And I hate that.

I have so much to write about - the beach, Funeral Home Man, my church, directing again, the moment I realized what I was hoping that 3rd option would be so many months ago - but I just don't have words.

I feel like I don't have emotion most of the time.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll just pick a topic and start writing.