Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Nothing rips your heart so as your child truly grieving and nothing makes it soar like your child’s hand clenched in excitement, feet pounding in anticipation of an upcoming thrill. These are the words that came to my mind as I watched Ailsa while we were about to go on Thunder Mountain for the second time in a row—good times—good times. We decided that the kids, and us, had had a very tough last year, and needed to do something apart from our routine of trauma followed by another trauma—it is not a routine I recommend.

Around the time of Katelynn’s funeral, it came to Nathan and me that we should do something crazy fun – like Disneyland. Once discussed, it felt right, so we began to plan the trip. I had no reservations till I saw the cost of such a trip. The most expensive trip we have ever taken was three years ago when we went to Sea World and Legoland—it was just under a 1000.00 dollars. This trip would with hotel, food, etc., would be more than three times that amount. The money I have put aside for Katelynn’s marker would go to this trip. Yet as the day grew closer, the little girl in me got more excited. The kids were beyond excited. As I was busy making sure the home was perfectly clean for our departure and everything packed, I was concerned less with the money and more gratified that we could give our kids such an opportunity. What a way to grieve, what a way to let them know that they are important, and what a way to honor Katelynn’s memory: to do something crazy fun and to take her (in spirit) with us.

Ailsa had been looking at one of the brochures with me. On the cover, Mickey Mouse-shaped balloons dance over the skyline of a castle… she asked, “get a balloon like that too.” You know kids, if you say yes you are locked in, and there we would be with an overpriced balloon and where do you put a balloon when you go on a ride? So, attempting to dissuade her, I recommended that we not get a balloon and that we get her something else that would be easier to carry and not get so easily lost. Ailsa looked up at me with the look kids get when they feel they are explaining the obvious, “Not for me, for Katelynn,” then with a thoughtful tone, “write Katelynn’s name on it so Jesus knows to give to Katelynn.” Trying to keep my voice even, I commended her on her idea. What an amazing little girl she is. For several days, Ailsa would check in with me—Katelynn’s balloon—the question if Ailsa wanted Katelynn with us in Disneyland was answered.

Katelynn in the minds of all of us would also be coming. We packed Katelynn’s bear that sat on the shelf of Katelynn’s NICU bed tucked among medical devices, usually next to my mug marked boldly “Mama Greene.” Each time now that I drink from it, the water almost tastes like the water at the NICU. I have been known to caress the letters as though they were fine engraving—not the hurried marker writings they are. We have so little of Katelynn physically that the simplest mundane becomes precious—the teddy bear is so clearly the most normal thing of a baby’s nursery. It was a $4.98 plush animal from Walmart. I know because I removed the tag. Nathan’s cousin Dave and his wife Lizette bought it when they planned to visit us and to see Katelynn in the NICU. I imagine them wondering what do you give a baby who is expected to be in the hospital for a long while. Well, the bear was selected. A gift wasn’t necessary, of course: their wanting to meet Katelynn was the best gift to us. Every new parent loves to show off their baby. The bear stood near Katelynn, so it was, and remains, worth so much. At first I would cringe as the children squeezed it, wanting the bear to remain pristine, then I realized the greater purpose was for Katelynn’s bear to be worn with love, to receive the kisses and hugs all loved little bears are meant to receive. While it was initially a simple gift from Dave and Lizett, did they have any idea the love that would be endowed on this little crème bear? If the teddy bears could talk… So, along came Katelynn’s bear to Disneyland. Her bear sat in the basket of my scooter, or more often held by the kids taken on rides. We took pictures of her bear with the characters, in niches and crannies all over the park. In arranging the trip, I had asked what perks they had, wanting this to be the trip of all Disneyland trips—character breakfast, dinner with goofy, dinner with Ariel, magic morning, meal plan. I was an easy sale. We wanted the kids to look back and think how much fun they had, and since they couldn’t be at any better age to embrace the magic of Disneyland—we went all out.

I was prone to happy tears, seeing the kids run in front, seeing them hug, seeing the joy of a ride, seeing a hug to a special little bear, seeing Nathaniel flex his muscles with Mr. Incredible, Mickey Mouse shaped waffles would bring a tear… crying happily. The happier the kids were, the more a tear was likely to come, to do so in Katelynn’s honor. She is never far from my thoughts, and at times, I thought surely now I wouldn’t have the thoughts of her pulling me. But, as I was on a roller coaster, it seemed a funny moment to be pondering why, how, and if I would ever feel like my mind is not being pulled, making a decision moment by moment to not embrace sadness but to embrace the joy, the real purpose of Katelynn. I felt Katelynn urge me to know that she was glad we were happy, glad that we were choosing to honor her memory with not just the tears that unavoidable come, but with happiness that she lived and happiness that she will again live and that we can be with her again in the next life. Disneyland was one aspect of the choice to be happy; we make the decision to embrace joy everyday, so there is hope in that. Hope is good. Each morning when I wake up, the shock of her death sweeps over me. I can’t say it is a new thought as my dreams are filled with her sometimes peaceful memories and other moments so real they draw upon the most tender motherly feelings, difficult in the time they lived, horrified as they are replayed in my slumber. Such difficult memories are to be kept simply as points of no regret that we didn’t shy away from: we were fully dedicated to our baby girl. She is there, as each of my children is here: a mother never forgets their children. Katelynn misses us as we miss her and as the rides moved us from side to side, the thrill of each moment, I felt not only Katelynn’s approval but her presence enjoying our joy… There are a lot of things I will miss out on having to wait for more time with Katelynn, yet I feel that I got one back with this trip. I got to take all three of my children to Disneyland!

Ailsa said the second day of the trip, in all seriousness, “Mom, can we move to Disneyland?” And why wouldn’t she want to move there? I told her we couldn’t afford it! My favorite part was the breakfast in Ariel’s Grotto— where we get to dine with the princesses. As we were sitting eating our tower of food—with pastries, fruit, cheeses and crackers—the announcer for the princesses invited Ailsa to come over with him to be the honorary princess. Any little girl would be thrilled to have such a fun honor. This year in Disneyland they ask what we are celebrating. We weren’t always sure what to say. Nathan said it best when he said “survival.” So, as Ailsa was invited up we were asked what we were celebrating. We spoke of Katelynn, how she loves the kids who showed him the little bear. The kids spoke with such animation and happiness that the “cast members” would look at us, like did I hear that right and how are you all OK? Some would have pained smiles, almost veiled panic as people realize they are taking about their sister that has died, which provided opportunities to share our knowledge that we know where Katelynn is. Hope and joy are very much about Katelynn. Attaching despairing sadness to her memory would be a disservice to Katelynn’s life. As the time for the princesses came near, Nathan ready with the camera, the Royal Attendant announced:

Here ye, here ye! This is Princess Ailsa with her family and Princess Katelynn, whose wonderful idea it was to bring her family to Disneyland!

Those who might have torn themselves from their own tower of food to look would have seen one child, but thought nothing of it. Perhaps Princess Katelynn was too shy to stand up with her sister? If they had looked and seen the mother, perhaps, then, they might think something was different as I had tears streaming down my face. Nathan and I had a hard time thinking of much to top that moment, so normal-- a family with three kids in Disneyland, but for us it would be a rare moment of having our three children together laughing and hugging, talking to and laughing with princesses. Cinderella was especially kind: she did, after all, have a hard childhood. Hard times help us to each increase our empathy. Cinderella gave the kids very one-on-one attention. She is now this household’s favorite Disney princess.

Later, when we were again dining with the princesses, the kids were overjoyed with happiness to see Cinderella again, which fortunately was the same lady. The kids caught her up on our adventures, literally making her fall over with hugs... I never thought I would be cajoling my children into apologizing to a fairytale character. Sir Bigsby, the royal announcer, was also there again, and yes that is his real name, I asked. How perfect it was that he has a British accent. Sir. Bigsby pulled me aside to say:

I have been thinking about your family. We the princesses and I have talked about you. A lot of people come to Disneyland to celebrate a variety of things. They come because someone is dying, but we have never known anyone to come to celebrate the life of someone, despite their death. You have given your children a gift.

This is around the time that I noticed Nathan helping Cinderella up from the forceful love of Nathaniel and Ailsa, we both laughed as he continued, “Your kids are thriving, happy, they are making it through this because of the example of you and your husband.” He shook Nathan by the hand, and expressed what an honor it was to meet him. Nathan was a little puzzled at the emphasis of his words, so I filled him in later. As the kids ran ahead that day we talked a lot of what was said. The kids are OK. The grief therapist at Primaries says that, and with what their teachers and Sir Brigsby have shared: what more confirmation do you need? We are a pretty normal family, we laugh, we cry…we just have an angel watching out for us and for us that is the happiest place on earth!

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