survivor – Page 5 – Cara Martinisi

Quick Thought: Finding Soul

Writing and helping others is my true soul work. It is what feeds my soul, grows my soul and what makes me happy. It is unconceivable to me that it took losing Christian to dig deep enough to follow my heart and combine the two. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of my gravitation toward these occupations and interests. It’s that I didn’t truly find the strength of my soul until I lost him.

Before I experienced child loss I was able to rely on my mind to guide me. Things went as planned and none of the bumps in the road were so life altering that I had to fully trust my heart and soul. After losing Christian nothing was what it seemed. All my beliefs were completely obliterated. Upon embarking on my healing journey I learned that my soul is to be trusted. Even more than my mind. The previously thought impossible has happened to me. Now I am living the previously thought impossible life. Through living life after child loss I found my calling and the way I am intended to honor Christian’s life. It’s all right here, in my soul.

Quick thought: Trust Yourself

If you follow my blog you know I post once a week on Thursday. I want to post more but I am struggling with finding the time. I’ve decided to start quick thoughts. When something inspires me or strikes a chord in me I am going to post! It will be shorter and less in depth than my other posts but it will encourage a stronger connection with my readers. Any feedback is appreciated. Thanks!

Today’s quick thought is about trusting yourself. It’s oh so hard! I struggle with this on a daily basis and it spans all areas of my life. When I first became a parent it CONSUMED me. Frantically I read through every parenting book to see if my parenting decisions were “right”. I second guessed everything, only to discover there is no one right way.

Losing Christian makes me question every decision I make. And yet the relationship I have with him now strengthens my trust in myself. When I am living a balanced life, in touch with my true feelings and aware of truth, not what the negative voices lie to me about, I have trust in myself. These are a lot of pieces that need to be aligned just right. I am working to make these pieces fit together more often than not. It is part of my journey. It is part of the positivity Christian is infiltrating into my life. Trust yourself. There is only one you and you know you the best! Love to heaven…

Sunshine Blogger Award Nomination

I planned to post a piece about trauma therapy today but then a nomination for the Sunshine Blogger Award came across my desk. I thought that was a worthy diversion of topic!

Thanks to Afiyah, I am getting a chance to draw attention to her blog, When Life Awakens, as well as my own. You can find my favorite post from When Life Awakens here. In this piece she writes about how having a beginner’s mindset sometimes prolongs motivation.

“It’s just about having the mindset of a beginner. That involves having a fluid mindset, of knowing that you don’t everything there is to know, that there’s always something new to learn. It’s the idea of wanting to improve to reach a higher level of success but to keep the enthusiasm alive.” Afiyah, When Life Awakens

I have been struggling with the momentum of my own life moving forward lately. It seems as though I’ve hit a roadblock. My motivation is dipping and although I have a goal in mind, I tend to get in my own way. Returning to the mindset of a beginner may just be what I need to get past my block!

And now for the answers to Afiyah’s questions for me:

1. What’s your favourite childhood memory?

This would have to be Christmas Eve at my grandparents house each year. It was the one holiday everyone on my maternal side spent together every year. We would all arrive, presents in tow. The gifts would be stacked up high under the tree. We would spend hours in their dining room at a table that seated at least 25. Plate after plate of food was passed around while tales of Christmases past were told. Laughter and jovial voices boomed. Excitement buzzed in the air. It was a night that always radiated love.

2. What’s the most interesting place you’ve ever visited?

Belgium, specifically Bruges, is one of my favorite places I have ever visited. It has been many years since I have been there but the architecture, scenery and I am not going lie – waffles and beer – make it one of my very favorite places.

3. What’s your favourite season and why?

My favorite season is summer. The best part of summer is how everyone seems to exhale a deep breath and just relax. Days are longer and more conducive to spending time with family and friends. The relaxed nature of the season is a welcome change.

4. Who do you look up to?

There are many people I look up to. My husband is one of them. Every day he walks this difficult path with me. I know it is not easy for either of us but he continues on. We don’t always agree but I never doubt his love for me.

My mom is definitely another person. I love how strong willed and feisty she is. She is loyal to a fault and loves her children (my sister and myself) immensely.

There are other people as well – my sister, my dad, my in-laws, my friends (so many for so many reasons). Too many to list! I am grateful for that. Oh, my children too!! I look up to my boys. They have shown resilience and unconditional love.

5. If you could change one thing in your life right now, what would you change?

This one is easy. I think the answer will remain the same for the rest of my life. I would bring Christian back to life.

And now for the nominees!

I nominate Melanie, thelifeididn’tchoose and Christy B., When Women Inspire.

The Rules:

• Thank the blogger who nominated you and link their blog.

• Answer the questions the blogger who nominated you provided (11 maximum).

• Nominate new bloggers and make up to 11 questions for them to answer.

• List the rules and have the Sunshine Blogger logo present in your post.

Here are my questions:

What is the motivation behind your blog?
What do you do to improve your mood when your motivation slips?
Who is the biggest support in your life?
What accomplishment are you most proud of?
What is something you do every day?

To My Children: My Tears Are For You Too

Children are incredibly perceptive about their parents’ emotions. My five year old can pinpoint sadness on my face even when I am not aware it is showing. Emotions run freely in our home since we lost our six year old son, Christian. My two younger boys are always encouraged to share their feelings. As a mom, I do the same, most of the time. I allow them to see me sad and crying. It’s important that they see me bend but not break.

My first experience with child loss was when my childhood friend lost her eight year old cousin. The vivid memories consist of the inability to breathe as soon as I entered the funeral home. The dark fog of unnatural death descended unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was palpable. The sight of a small child lying in a coffin was physically and emotionally jarring. There I stood alone in the midst of a crowd of mourners. Many thoughts ran through my mind. Of course my heart was filled with empathy for the family members, especially the parents. Anger coursed through my body at the thought of this small child no longer being filled with vitality. My heart was crushed for the other two children in the family. Although Christian was only two years old at the time, and had no siblings, it was the final thought that stuck with me. How would the parents have the strength to go on for the other two children? How would the children survive the death of their sibling? These thoughts consumed me as I drove home.

After losing Christian these questions and emotions immediately resurfaced. At the time my other two boys were three and one. They needed their parents. My husband and I were completely incapacitated. We were fortunate to have many friends and family surrounding us and providing my children with love and comfort. My boys still needed us. In my heart I knew my children deserved as much as I could give. Just days after we laid my oldest son to rest, Anthony, my middle son, began preschool. It is customary for the parents to attend the first day of school with their children so they can get situated. Anthony was at the same preschool Christian had attended. It was not an easy task to accompany him. Family and friends offered to stand in for us, but my husband and I felt strongly that we needed to be there for Anthony. We were determined to shape our new normal around our two living children. This is what has kept us going for the past four years. At the time of Christian’s death our sons were babies. Now, at five and seven, they have grown into beautiful little people.

As my children continue to grow, and their understanding of the tragedy we have experienced continues to grow, I shield them less and less. At one time their perception was that mom only cried when she was sad about Christian. Now they realize I cry for them too, in a different way. My five year old son knows that the song he is sung at preschool graduation makes me cry because it means he will no longer be little. My seven year old son knows that when he unexpectedly thanks me for “encouraging him to do something difficult” it brings tears to my eyes. Our emotional connection as a family had been undeniably changed. The tragedy we have endured and continue to survive as a family, allows us to be more emotionally vulnerable with each other. This vulnerability creates extremely close relationships.

Maintaining emotional transparency has opened the doors of communication about topics that typically would be considered above their level of understanding. Spirituality is a common conversation topic in our home. I do the best to explain heaven, souls, love after death and the forever connections we have with Christian. I am also entirely honest with them, letting them know that these are my beliefs. Following in my beliefs, they consider hearts and pennies signs from their brother. It fosters communication with our beautiful angel. My boys also know that I am actively engaged and involved in their lives. They know my emotions are affected by not only what has happened in the past, but also by things that happen in the present. The closeness we have gained as a family is a beautiful gift from our angel. Love to heaven…

Grieving Is Like An Ocean

How many times have we admired a body of water ranging in shades of turquoise from light to dark? The most desirable beach locations feature coveted ocean views where the white sand reflects the light of the sun. In areas where the depth of the water increases or where coral formations are found beneath the surface, the water color darkens. As I sit here admiring this exact view it occurs to me that these waters mirror my life.

During the bright spots in my life everything is clear. It is easy to see where I am going. My feelings are soft, like the sand. They sit below the surface with smooth waves washing over. As the sun graces me with its warmth it is met with a reflection of joy, happiness and contentment.

In the darker, deeper times my feelings are below the surface. They are complicated. The sun still shines on them but my positivity does not radiate back. The coral represents difficult situations and feelings. If I get pulled down too far or caught in the coral, difficulty arises. My breath runs out and I am unable to maneuver my way to the surface.

Life cannot be lived solely in the clear waters. At some point the undertow pulls us into deeper, darker waters. We all face this. Attempts to swim against the undertow, or ignoring the pull, will only lengthen our time away from clear waters. The strength comes in our ability and willingness to swim parallel to the shore. We must feel our feelings. We must stay with those feelings until they are felt and processed. Then we are able to return to clear, calm waters. We may get drawn back in to the deeper areas again, but the more we practice swimming parallel to shore, the more familiar this becomes to us.

We must always remember that the ocean as a whole is beautiful. The calmer, clearer waters are great for relaxing and reflecting on our lives. It is in the deeper, darker waters where we see the stunning underwater life. It cannot be seen above the water but under the surface there is living beauty.

Four years have passed since I lost my son, Christian. Many times I have been pulled into the deeper, darker waters. In the early days of my grief journey I fought the pull. I floundered under the crashing waves, unable to see the surface, let alone rise up for air. My mind could not comprehend a life without him. It took a long while to see any of the living beauty in those dark waters. When I finally did begin to see the beauty I slowly stopped floundering and rose to the surface. I remained there for a while. Occasionally I would take a few strokes parallel to the shore. Those few strokes left me completely depleted of energy.

It took time to build my stamina. Time, patience, practice and faith. Finding a good trauma therapist was key for me. He truly helped me to process my feelings in a safe space. He also pointed out to me that each time I had a setback and disappeared under the water, I always rose back up. When you are grieving that water is not just dark, it’s black and oppressive. You are not quite sure which way is up. There is a great fear that you will never make it to the surface again, but you do. You keep repeating this pattern as more and more time passes in between being pulled under. Slowly, finally, you gain faith that you will always rise back up. You learn ways to ensure that you will rise back up to the surface. You put those ways or routines into practice and follow through with them even if you don’t feel like it. They are insurance. Insurance that you will survive and thrive. It’s not easy but it’s worth it. Love to heaven…

Season of Change, Season of Grief

Summer is officially over and school begins tomorrow. I am grateful that August is over. Each year August is a difficult month as it is the month when my oldest son, Christian, became an angel. This year is a particularly difficult one. My heart is grieving the loss of him, intensified by grieving my life as a mom to preschoolers, toddlers and babies. My children no longer fall into these categories. The loss of so much has left me completely bereft.

For the past ten and a half years part of my identification, okay lets be honest, most of my identification has been mom to preschoolers, toddlers and babies. With my oldest son never to surpass Kindergarten and my youngest son, Nicky, just starting Kindergarten, this angelversary has me feeling more lost than ever.

The start of Kindergarten is a milestone in both the child and mother’s life, especially a stay at home mom. It’s a time when each gains new freedom. For the child it’s a sort of freedom he has not had before. My son Nicky has never spent consistent full days apart from me since his birth. This will be a first for him. I have not had consistent full days of child free time in the past ten and a half years. Just as he will grow and blossom, I will too. The woman who became a mom almost eleven years ago is no longer the same person. This is a beautiful and sad thing all at once.

Many moms experience a sense of sadness when their youngest child goes off to Kindergarten. My grief further complicates these emotions. The largest thing I am mourning is that I am leaving behind the mom I was when Christian was alive. When he was still here I was a mom to a Kindergartner, preschooler and toddler. Now both my boys will be in elementary school. By the end of this school year, they will surpass the amount of years Christian spent enthused by learning. This is downright terrifying for a few reasons. He was my guide on how to mother. Sure Anthony, my middle child, is almost eight years old but his personality is way different than Christian’s. You can see the gleam of mischief in Nicky’s eyes a mile away, just like his brother. I was supposed to learn how to handle that while raising Christian. Not only that, but in five short years they will both be out of elementary school. They will be forging ahead into a school their brother never had the chance to attend. Tears prickle my eyes thinking about it. I will no longer be able to make parallels between Christian’s life and theirs.

All of this makes me mourn the door that is about to close. Every time life changes it is a reminder of just how much it has changed, just how different it is than expected, just how much we miss my Christian. During big life changes it hurts even more than usual.

I am leaving behind an identity of who I was, as my first child knew me. I am leaving behind an era and in essence a piece of me. I am NOT leaving behind my son. My head knows this, my heart knows this but it still hurts to leave the piece of me behind that was defined by his birth and growth. He was the first to make me a mother to a baby, toddler, preschooler and elementary schooler. Anthony will be the first to make me a mother to a middle schooler.

Moving into uncharted territories is always exhilarating and scary at the same time. Gone is a life that I will never return to. My day no longer dictated by nap time. No more mommy and me classes. No more afternoon visits to the playground or the library “before your brother gets home from school”. Gone is the life as my first born knew me. I guess it already is though. Growth and change are never easy but always necessary. So I will carry on and carry him with me. I will spread his love, light and messages. All the time feeling a mix of proud, devastated, honored to have been his mother and angry to have him taken away from me. Love to heaven…

It Takes A Village – A Love Letter

Dear Family, Friends, Teachers and Community Members,

If you know my family at all, my story at all, this letter is meant for you to be reading. Many, many times my husband and I have attempted to put our gratitude into words. It never seems to reflect the full magnitude of just how grateful we are for all you do. I don’t expect this to do it either but I will try once again!

Thank you – two simple words, yet such strong meaning. YOU have been a part of what has saved us over these four years. Beginning with the amazing outpouring of support when we first lost our dear Christian continuing right through today. Your presence, hugs, love, listening ears, meals, cards, walks, play dates, tears along side us, monetary donations, every effort to show he will never be forgotten, all of it. YOU are helping to raise our children every day. Just knowing that you are there, ready to do anything to make our life more manageable is the biggest blessing.

I have struggled with my faith since this all happened. I continue to figure it out. One thing I know for sure is something my sister told me early on. “All of these people are God.” It’s true. You are all the epitome of kindness, love and true, divine light. We couldn’t go on without you. YOU have all been true teachers in our children’s lives. You have shown them through your example just how important it is to help those who are suffering or in need. The fact that your level of support and love has not wavered is the most beautiful thing. YOU are all heroes to us.

I would be remiss if I didn’t specifically pay homage to our amazing parents and my sister and her family. Through all of their suffering they are always conscious of our feelings. They are always sensitive to our needs. They deal with grief twofold. Not only do they feel the pain of missing their grandson, nephew and cousin but they feel the pain of watching their daughter, son, sister and children navigate this life. They are always here for us. Without a doubt their presence in our lives has helped our family to carry on.

We cannot thank you enough for everything. You have helped us to find beauty in pain. You have inspired us to pay it forward and create an organization that does just what you have done. We will help families who lose children suddenly. YOU have shown us what to do. So many of you ask us what to do for a grieving family. You have done it. Be there. Honor their angel. If the family knows they can count on you for love and support, you are doing just what they need. Thank you – two simple words, yet such strong meaning.

With love from us and heaven,

The Martinisi Family

Carrying On Is Different Than Moving On

One of my fellow members of the most undesirable club to be in, posted something quite interesting today. She made the distinction between carrying on and moving on as grieving mothers. This really resonated with me. Her point was that we never move on from grieving our children. We carry on. We carry on raising our living children. We carry on as wives. We carry on as daughters, sisters, friends. Most of all we carry on, while carrying our children in our hearts. We carry on because our deceased children live on through us. Their legacies, messages and light live on through us. That can only happen if we carry on with our life.

I have said before that I still actively mother three children. It is not in the way I once expected it would be. My responsibilities to my living children include making lunches, showering them, driving them to camp and preparing them to start a new school year. These mothering tasks are responsibilities that all mothers can relate to. Mothering an angel is different. It’s not as demanding as mothering a living child and yet it is more demanding. If we don’t keep our child’s spirit and memory alive, he is really gone. Mothering an angel requires less responsibility, yet more. No longer do I need to worry about what time he will be home from school, but I need to make the time to honor him. No longer do I need to worry about if he is making the right choices, but I need to make sure my choices in honoring his life make him proud. Just like a mother never stops loving her child, she never stops mothering her child.

Grieving mothers carry on. We are warriors. Oxford Dictionaries defines warrior as “A brave or experienced soldier or fighter.” That’s us. There are so many other ways we would have liked to earn our warrior status. We will never move on. We will never move past our child, his life, our experiences together. It will never be an event that merely occurred in the past. Instead we become experienced at carrying on. We become experienced at being a fighter. Every day that is lived without my child is a fight. It will never be easy. This is not to say that happiness and joy does not exist. Both coincide in my world. Sometimes the intensity of grief, and the feeling of fighting is stronger. Sometimes the intensity of happiness and joy is stronger. One never wins out, one never trumps the other. They exist together. That is how I carry on. Love to heaven…

Grief and Sickness

Christian’s 4 year angelversary is quickly approaching which means my emotions are running higher than usual. I have been inhabiting this state since June actually. In June he would have moved up from elementary school. Then came the summer, along with all the reminders of his final time here with us. And now it’s the dreaded August.

Our summer has been filled with lots of travel, which has been amazing. We have had more family time together than usual which is always healing. We have made many new memories. My husband and I even had a chance to get away. It’s been great. We have one more trip coming up this week to send the summer out with a bang.

All this travel means my schedule is way off. My self care schedule has not been very consistent. In combination with high emotions my immunity is way down. I know this because I am recovering from one of the worst bouts of sickness I have ever experienced.

Temporary sickness is something I can deal with. The more disturbing thing is that I now have high blood pressure. I am not even forty years old yet! Granted, I am not the picture of perfect health but I do work out on a regular basis. I eat healthy – much of the time. I work hard at managing my stress. Believe me, I am not saying this to give myself a pat on the back. It’s more of a realization that I just cannot outrun or out health grief. The extreme stress that has taken over my life has had serious health effects.

This realization about my health means I will only have to work harder at surviving and living. Quite unimaginable since living without my child seems like I am working just about as hard as possible. I’m certain that this is meant to be teaching me a lesson in some way. Right now, however, I do not want to learn! As a grieving parent I feel I should be able to do whatever I want! This is not reality, I know. It’s more of a sidebar rant. When you live every day without your child by your side you have very little extra to give to the rest of your life. Right now I am out of extra! Love to heaven…

Becoming Stronger From Your Past

Grieving a child changes each parent who experiences it. It takes hold of the parent, shakes him until he can no longer tell which way is up then sets him down in completely unfamiliar territory. It’s obvious from the start that nothing will ever be the same. There is no way back to that familiar place where you once dwelled with your child. Over time it becomes more and more apparent that this new life you inhabit has forever changed the essence of your core.

As time goes on your expectations of yourself must be adjusted. The things that once worked so well for you in your former life no longer have any effect in this new life. What you once seemed to breeze by emotionally, physically and mentally now trap you. It is a challenge to find ways to escape the traps. The freedom from these traps only arises when you come to terms with the fact that you cannot do the same things you once did to get by them. You no longer have the same outlook, tolerance, patience and priorities.

Coming to terms with these changes often means coming to terms with the realization that your child is no longer living. Each time a bereaved parent is faced with a change, faced with a challenge, faced with a milestone his child would have been reaching, there is a process. As one would expect, it includes a time of sadness. It also includes yet another time that the parent must admit to himself that his child is no longer with him on Earth. It would seem as though each day would be a reminder of this, and it is, but it truly becomes real when these emotional times arise.

It’s difficult to be aware of and admit that you are a different person. It is necessary for healing, however. The change in who the bereaved parent has morphed into encompasses positive and negative changes. It’s easy to lose sight of that. Focusing on the positive changes promotes healing and helps us to grow. The difficult times in our lives are learning experiences. Not one grieving parent has asked for this learning experience but there is nothing we can do to change it. Recognize the change in yourself and use it to make you stronger. Love to heaven…