"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.

How Are You?

    I get asked that a lot lately. I tend to reply "OK", because I am. I am functioning pretty much like normal.

    In fact, the first two weeks after Ricki's death, I felt that I felt "Too good". I wondered how in the world could I feel so good with Ricki gone? Was I NORMAL?!? Eventually I realized that I probably hadn't really internalized the fact that Ricki is gone. But last week and this one have been a different story. I can smile at a friend, or GRIN when my son arrives from the army (bless them, they are sending him a lot lately….). I appreciate a humorous blog post…. And yet, most of the day, my heart is not 100% into things. I'm missing the zest, the spring in my step. It seems that 90% of THAT has been siphoned off somewhere….

BTW, I'm NOT complaining. I am just describing my new (temporary) reality.

I Wish I Could….

      Each person in our family mourns Ricki's passing in a different way. My older daughter cries easily; I do not. One has had several dreams of Ricki, etc.

   The way I have most mourned Ricki is simply thinking about her a lot (the first week and a half almost non-stop….), and….. well, this:

  I have had to go through the shopping area of town several times over the last several days, and as I do, I am drawn to certain stores. Every book store, toy store, jewelry store, has me half pausing. I often browsed in these types of stores, looking to see if there was anything "really good" to purchase Ricki as a study aid, or as a prize. Often I did NOT purchase anything while window shopping, but I DID look. Now as I pass these stores, I DO remember that Ricki is no longer alive. But I have this wrenching feeling of wishing I could buy her something. I manage to continue on, passing the stores by, but I wish I could put a smile on her face…..

We've Come a Long Way

    When Ricki was born I remembered a friend of mine who had lost a baby with Down syndrome not too long before. I spoke once with this friend about her experiences, and she mentioned that there had been more than one case of people telling her "how relieved" she must be. A second friend, whose 4 year old son died a few years later had similar experiences.

    Well, I guess that as a community we may have come a long way, because I did NOT get such comments.  However, in a few cases I expected that I might get such a comment, and I pre-empted it with a few lines that I said repeatedly during the "shiva":

     I won't say it was always easy. But it was always good. Something difficult is not necessarily bad. Everyone in the family, all of us, profited from having Ricki in our lives. We became better people, more mature, better attuned to the reality of what is important in life.

   Yes, it was good…..