I know that sometimes it can be very hard to do the right thing. I know that it is very hard to be a parent, and make all the right choices. I know that I second guess myself often. I know that I'm not going to win any parenting awards. I sleep at night because I know that I did the best I could that day. I love my girls with my whole entire heart. There isn't anything that I won't do to make sure that they grow up feeling safe, secure, and loved. I will continue to do that each and every day for each and every one of my children until I stop waking up every morning. If I end up having 50 kids I will feel exactly the same way about each and every one of them.
All that being said, I assume that every parent feels that way about their children. I am reminded daily when I watch the news that that is not always the case. I don't judge the decisions other parents make for their children just because it isn't the choice I would make for mine. Unless of course that decision is harmful or hurtful to those children.
I feel that it is my responsibility to be wherever my children need be to be, whenever they need me to be there. When I'm 105 and Maddy is 80, if she calls me, I'm there. That's what you do when you become a parent. That is what you do.
What I'm about to write, I haven't spoken about since May 23rd. On May 19th my husband's mother, father, and sisters all got in their cars and started driving to Macomb to be with us. None of them made it in before Isabelle died. When we got home Thursday night to tell the girls, my father in law stopped by and brought cookies for te girls. Everyone had made hotel reservations, and I knew that my father in law's wife was flying in to be here. It was chaotic having so many people around, but I was glad that they were here for us and especially the girls.
On Saturday I learned that my father in law was leaving Sunday morning, and would not be staying for the visitation or funeral. I was shocked and appalled. He told everyone that he had to get back for work. At this point he still had not told me or Dan. I don't know if he actually ever did. When he left the house Saturday, he didn't come back. They got up early Sunday and left.
I can't put into words how devastating this was for us. I suspected that work was not the reason. I suspected that he really just couldn't handle it. A few weeks ago he admitted to me on the phone that he just couldn't bear to stay and go through it. This infuriates me.
We don't have a choice. We have to go through it every day. Every minute. We have to go through it with our girls. We have to walk by her room, her crib, her swing every day and remember that she's not here. Every Thursday I remember that she was born on a Thursday and died on a Thursday. Every day that a new bill comes in the mail from her delivery and death in the same envelope, I lose a little piece of my sanity. But we hold it together and get out of bed, so that we don't lose Maddy and Abbey. It would be a betrayal of Izzy's memory if we threw away their childhood for our grief. We are not that selfish. We are better parents than that.
All that being said, I assume that every parent feels that way about their children. I am reminded daily when I watch the news that that is not always the case. I don't judge the decisions other parents make for their children just because it isn't the choice I would make for mine. Unless of course that decision is harmful or hurtful to those children.
I feel that it is my responsibility to be wherever my children need be to be, whenever they need me to be there. When I'm 105 and Maddy is 80, if she calls me, I'm there. That's what you do when you become a parent. That is what you do.
What I'm about to write, I haven't spoken about since May 23rd. On May 19th my husband's mother, father, and sisters all got in their cars and started driving to Macomb to be with us. None of them made it in before Isabelle died. When we got home Thursday night to tell the girls, my father in law stopped by and brought cookies for te girls. Everyone had made hotel reservations, and I knew that my father in law's wife was flying in to be here. It was chaotic having so many people around, but I was glad that they were here for us and especially the girls.
On Saturday I learned that my father in law was leaving Sunday morning, and would not be staying for the visitation or funeral. I was shocked and appalled. He told everyone that he had to get back for work. At this point he still had not told me or Dan. I don't know if he actually ever did. When he left the house Saturday, he didn't come back. They got up early Sunday and left.
I can't put into words how devastating this was for us. I suspected that work was not the reason. I suspected that he really just couldn't handle it. A few weeks ago he admitted to me on the phone that he just couldn't bear to stay and go through it. This infuriates me.
We don't have a choice. We have to go through it every day. Every minute. We have to go through it with our girls. We have to walk by her room, her crib, her swing every day and remember that she's not here. Every Thursday I remember that she was born on a Thursday and died on a Thursday. Every day that a new bill comes in the mail from her delivery and death in the same envelope, I lose a little piece of my sanity. But we hold it together and get out of bed, so that we don't lose Maddy and Abbey. It would be a betrayal of Izzy's memory if we threw away their childhood for our grief. We are not that selfish. We are better parents than that.
I am glad that you spoke out about your true feelings. I have never been prouder of being a parent than at these past months as I have watched you and Dan stay committed to Madeline, Abbey and Isabelle. I am in awe of how the two of you are so in love and pull strngth form that toget through one of the most difficult events of your life. Neither of you will ever betray her memory or forego Madeline & Abbey. You are great parents and they love you as do I.
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