I think Abbey blames herself for Izzy's death. I think she's really struggling. My heart breaks for her because I know how much it hurts.
On Sunday, she was crying loudly upstairs, and if you know Abbey, you know that this could be anything from a hangnail to her sister holding her down and force feeding her kleenex.
I get upstairs, and she says she misses Izzy. I hold her and tell her that I miss her too. I remind her that Izzy is always with us, and even though we can't see her, she's here. She says she can't remember what she looks like. We get out Izzy's photo book and look through it. We get to the page with the pictures of Abbey and Izzy. She says, "I didn't want Izzy. I didn't want another sister. And now she's dead."
I tell her that Izzy died because of a disease that she was born with. That noone made Izzy sick, or hurt her. That sometimes people are born with diseases and they can't get help and be okay, and sometimes there isn't medicine or help that we can give to people and they die. That we and the doctors did everything they could to help Izzy, but nothing we could do would make her better. I point out the pictures of the two of them together, and how happy Abbey's face is in the pictures. I remind her that she was happy in those pictures. I remind her that Izzy was the very first person Abbey went in to see every morning. I remind her of how she felt the day Izzy came to visit her classroom. She cries more. We lay there, remembering all the fun positive things I can think of. I look her in the eye and tell her that Izzy loves her. I tell her that she was the best big sister anyone can be. I tell her that Izzy is always with her, and will always be with her.
I feel like crap. Her heart is broken. She is 6. I can't fix it. I can't say anything to make a damn bit of difference. I can take her to a counselor. I can listen. I can love. I can hug. But odds are it won't make it better. Her life changed forever the night I came home and shook her faith in us as parents. There's no taking that back.
On Sunday, she was crying loudly upstairs, and if you know Abbey, you know that this could be anything from a hangnail to her sister holding her down and force feeding her kleenex.
I get upstairs, and she says she misses Izzy. I hold her and tell her that I miss her too. I remind her that Izzy is always with us, and even though we can't see her, she's here. She says she can't remember what she looks like. We get out Izzy's photo book and look through it. We get to the page with the pictures of Abbey and Izzy. She says, "I didn't want Izzy. I didn't want another sister. And now she's dead."
I tell her that Izzy died because of a disease that she was born with. That noone made Izzy sick, or hurt her. That sometimes people are born with diseases and they can't get help and be okay, and sometimes there isn't medicine or help that we can give to people and they die. That we and the doctors did everything they could to help Izzy, but nothing we could do would make her better. I point out the pictures of the two of them together, and how happy Abbey's face is in the pictures. I remind her that she was happy in those pictures. I remind her that Izzy was the very first person Abbey went in to see every morning. I remind her of how she felt the day Izzy came to visit her classroom. She cries more. We lay there, remembering all the fun positive things I can think of. I look her in the eye and tell her that Izzy loves her. I tell her that she was the best big sister anyone can be. I tell her that Izzy is always with her, and will always be with her.
I feel like crap. Her heart is broken. She is 6. I can't fix it. I can't say anything to make a damn bit of difference. I can take her to a counselor. I can listen. I can love. I can hug. But odds are it won't make it better. Her life changed forever the night I came home and shook her faith in us as parents. There's no taking that back.
You are the best mother that any three little girls could ever have. They all know that you love them with all of your strength.
ReplyDeleteErica
Agreed, agreed, agreed. Poor Abbey. I cried a little, reading this. She feels so much and tries so hard to be brave. Give her and Maddy both an extra hug from me tonight.
ReplyDeleteI just gave myself time to catch up with your blog. Although I cry through much of it, I love what you say about what you think and feel. You have a gift and I'm so glad you use it to let us into your thoughts and feelings. You are so courageous. You are a true gift to me. Kassie
ReplyDeletePoor Abbey. :( I think it is totally normal for kids to both want a new sibling and not want a new sibling and it can be very confusing for them, and that's under normal circumstances. I can only imagine how Abbey feels. :(
ReplyDelete