"Have You Recovered?"

    I was pretty sure I would never sit in our pediatrician's office again. With Ricki dead, and all the other "kids" being at an age above the 18-year-old cut off age for pediatricians, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that unless I would run into her doctor on the street, I wouldn't see her pediatrician. After Ricki's death I wondered what he would say if he saw me, but knew that it would be awkward for him, at best.  I am sure every doctor queries himself what could have been done different to prevent a death.

   Well, this afternoon found me sitting in his office, doing a favor for my daughter, whose son goes to the same doctor. Both He and his secretary asked me straight away "Have you recovered?"

   I answered "Yes", but thought to myself that it was a pretty stupid question. Ask how I am, how I am faring, yes. Recovered?!? Sorry, you never recover from the death of a child.

Clearing My Head…..

     One of the hardest parts of sitting "shiva" (the mourning week), was the lack of physical activity. Even though I was told that I could take a brief walk outside on Saturday, I stayed the remainder of the week indoors, mostly sitting. About my only other activity was cooking breakfast for the family, which I managed to do because I didn't sleep well, and was up early every morning.

   So the first thing I did on Wednesday (the first full day of non-shiva) was to take a long walk, to "stretch my legs and clear my mind".

     What was I thinking?!? Did I really imagine that I could "clear my mind"?!? I thought about Ricki, and what I want to tell her when we go to her grave in three weeks for the "shloshim" (one-month anniversary of the death) for nearly all of the two-and-a-half hour walk.[Not that I MIND thinking about Ricki…..]

     Coming to terms with Ricki's Down syndromewas a process..   So will coming to terms with her death be a process. And this process is going to take time……

The Future of This Blog

   First I would like to thank you all. The tremendous response to the notice of her death has touched me deeply. 
   I did not cry very copiously during the shiva (mourning week), to the point that one thoughtless lady decided- and stated-  that I was stunting my emotional health by not weeping more.* However, I DID have trouble (extreme trouble) sleeping, as armies of thoughts [over Ricki's passing and my future relationships with other parents of children with Down syndrome, support groups, etc,] marched through my brain.

   I also was doubtful about my desire and/or ability to continue this blog beyond the next several days (or weeks). I decided that I want to share my experiences and thoughts from the past week, as well as my adjustments to life without Ricki in the weeks to come. I hope such posts will be helpful for any woman in the future who joins the "club" of bereaved mothers, and will help other readers to understand others in such a situation. However, after that (except perhaps for occasional flashbacks), the "Ricki stories" will end. And I have serious doubts about my ability to maintain an interesting blog without her. But in the meantime, at least, I will be posting occasionally, commenting on life in general, and we'll play it by ear…….

PS I assume that several of my readers may be interested in the circumstances of Ricki's death. She had been discharged from the hospital about a month ago with blood clots in her leg and lungs.(The clots were probably caused by her recent inactivity due to overweight.)  She continued to receive oxygen and anti-coagulants, but apparently a clot dislodged, and caused a deathly blockage elsewhere…

  In short, the kitchen gate really WAS a "let's help-Ricki-live" gate, but we were too late.

 * [I personally think that I have not  truly internalized Ricki's death yet. I suspect that over the next few days, as I return to my "regular" routine, and am confronted by the enormity of the difference, I will feel it more acutely.]

The "Say Red" Story

     The "shiva" week is over; we arose from mourning on Tuesday morning, and went to visit Ricki's grave to daven (pray) and recite Psalms.

   It has been a very strange week to say the least. All but two of my sons and one step daughter were able to be with us for the week. We looked at old photo albums, and reminisced about Ricki. We even laughed about some of her lighter moments. Our favorite story was the "Say 'RED'" story:

Once (when Ricki was quite young) the older boys were entertaining themselves by cassette-taping other family members. When Ricki's turn arrived, they coached her: "Say 'Adom' (red) " She wasn't interested. After all, what was in it for her?

They repeated themselves over and over:

-"Say 'Adom' "

-"Say 'Adom' "

-"Say 'Adom' "

"LO adom!!!!!!" ("NOT red!") was the inevitable reply.

That was the first time she said two words together.

    I was amazed at the number of people who paid condolence calls: former classmates of Ricki from the years she had been mainstreamed (some on the verge of tears), former and present teachers, therapists, neighbors, storeowners from the area, and fellow parents. These were all in addition to regular neighbors and friends. Several people arrived from out of town (including several readers of this blog, who I met in person for the first time).

    In addition, it was interesting, like rewinding the cassette of Ricki's life, to have people who I had not seen for 12 or 15 years come walking out of the mists of the past to acknowledge the effect this spunky kid had made on their lives. It was humbling to realize how big an effect she had made on others (though we had traveled along with her, largely unaware).