Time
Posted by Mishi Methven on Nov 10, 2011
Time
Never before has time been such an abstract thing to me. In my previous life (aka "pre Stella's diagnosis"), I not only knew the date, day of the week and time, but I could rhyme off my rather complicated and ever-changing schedule quite easily. However, since Stella's cancer diagnosis, time has not been measured in anything that makes sense to me and I have trouble knowing the time of day it is, the day of the week---even the month sometimes.
The world outside our house seems like a foreign place now, the life we once led a distant memory that could very well have been anyone's life. Now time is measured in alarms going off to remind us to take an array of medications. The island in our kitchen is littered with pill bottles for various ailments for all the people who live here. A veritable alphabet of narcotics from A to Z (Ativan to Zoloft) and everything in between.....morphine...ondanzetron...advil...cipralex...ativan...valium...perkoset...gravol.
Without the comfort and organization that the knowledge of time and space used to give me, I feel like I'm free-falling through life. The lighting, temperature and feeling in our house in exactly the same night and day, season after season. I do remember certain dates... June 14th (diagnosis day), October 20th (Sam's birthday), December 25th (Christmas). That's about it.
For the last couple of weeks, there was a change in our lives that was more than the simple addition of Sam. We also, inexplicably, got a little bit of our Stella back too. The first two weeks after Sam was born, Stella made a mini rally back to health that seemed almost miraculous. Her energy improved, her mood improved and she seemed to come alive again. We went for walks that were requested by her, we dusted off the tea party set and hosted some really wild parties, we gave Sam baths and helped change his diaper. We started reading books again. Stella told knock knock jokes (not good ones, but really...are there any good ones???). She even agreed to go trick-or-treating. She lasted about 15 minutes before falling asleep in my arms, her drool running down my shoulder. Aimee and I took it all in, breathing deep breaths of red curls, brilliant smiles, cool wind on our skin, soft hugs and kisses. I didn't update the blog for over a week because I was much too busy living my life to even write about it. For the first time in a long time, I was able to just feel happy and grateful and as though there was a small window in the days that let the sunshine through the cracks again.
Then, yesterday, the colour went out of her cheeks again and the brightness faded from her eyes. She spent almost the entire day sleeping, sweaty and colourless on the couch without any interest in food, or television, or kisses. Aimee and I hope that it's just the change in her medication (we upped her morphine intake on Tuesday), but it's such an emotional roller coaster and I feel like I'm literally holding my breath as we all wait to see if this is just a small dip, or if this is "it". On days like yesterday, the clock is completely meaningless, the day of the week, temperature outside, month, completely irrelevant to our reality. Time has become an ally and an enemy all at once. I've ripped down the calendars that used to carefully map out our plans for the week. Plans full of school assignments, work, dinners, playdates, toddler classes in swimming, singing, soccer. I haven't bothered changing the clocks in our house from the timechange. Who cares, what difference does it make? Time only takes me further away from Stella and closer to the time when we will need to live without her forever.
The days are marked in the number of Dora episodes we can watch at a time, and we sit in the living room hour after hour on the couch while the world spins around us. I have realized that grieving can be a very selfish and self-centered thing. I don't have the energy anymore to work at my personal relationships, hygiene, hobbies, interests, future. I live in a bubble where the only realities are a three-week old baby and a two and a half year old girl who are living parallel lives going in completely different directions. For every gain that Sam makes, Stella seems to move backwards a little bit. Sam can hold his head up pretty well now, Stella has lost the ability to sit up unassisted. Sam is awake more, Stella is asleep more. Sam will soon start to babble, Stella has almost lost her ability to speak entirely. Sam's future seems endless and bright, Stella's seems short and mysterious. It's an uncomfortable mix of pleasure and excitement at our new son and fear and sadness for our firstborn. Our attention is split and I can't seem to find a balance between the two lives Aimee and I are responsible for. But each day, even on days like yesterday when Stella lacks the strength to chew food, she holds her arms out to her brother and holds him close. The scent of life and death intermingles between them. It still shocks me that this is my life, this is my reality. This time is NOW, and someday it will be THEN as in, "before Stella died".
It's strange to sit at the window and watch the world from inside. We hear garbage trucks roar by, see the sun rise and set, watch streetlights come on. Time passes, unnoticed. Time doesn't exist anymore as a way to breakdown the moments of my life. The only times that mean anything are the tiny instances when the four of us---me, Aimee, Stella & Sam, sit together on the couch in a huge mass of arms, legs, blankets, warmth and love. That is when I take deep breaths of life and wish with all my heart I could truly stop the clock forever.
STELLA & SAM
HALLOWE'EN WITH POPPA (no---this is not our house!)
FAMILY NAP TIME
Comments (29)
Jeni:
Nov 11, 2011 at 03:47 PM
Today is Remembrance Day. I left music class with my son and we ran along Queen Street to make it to the memorial service at Kew Gardens, and he sat snugly in my arms while The Maple Leaf Forever played quietly in the distance and the people gathered around tried to remember the lyrics to a song most of us are too young to have ever learned. I looked at my boy and I thought of all the mothers who had their children taken from them in war. And I thought of all the mothers who had, who have, their children taken away from them in more subtle ways -- less violent to an outsider, but no less cruel to a grieving parent. I thought of Stella. I thought of you.
All that to say ... of course time matters little and the relationships outside of the walls of your home are left to rest. Time marches on, indifferent, and the people who love you will wait. They will wait for you, and with you.
Miranda:
Nov 11, 2011 at 02:15 PM
My heart breaks for you more with each post. I cannot begin to fathom the pain you are feeling living through this horrific nightmare. But somehow you find the beauty and courage to make the best out of every moment with your sweet daughter. And then you find the energy and words to write it for us all to read. I am reminded how unimportant my stresses are in the scheme of life...and how precious every moment of time with my family is. I am touched every day and inspired by your family. I wish you all the strength in the world...
Thinking of you every day.
Sylvia:
Nov 11, 2011 at 10:48 AM
After reading & posting last night I went to bed & prayed, meditated for Stella. I could not sleep..I lay awake thinking of STella. Reading she has lost her ability to talk or sit up, yet, she reaches for little Sam and hold him. She waited for him, gave her mom's a week of "the old" Stella, giving life and light to your heart. Reading the other comments in tears..Stella touched so many, changed our paths. I don't know if STella is an ANgel, a wise old soul, a teacher..but, she is here for an incredible purpose. We cannot stop time but, thats ok..love is timeless. What she has infused into the soul of your family will be forever growing. I can't explain the love I have for her & your family, I reach to the screen & ask for your pain..I went back to read rainbows, somehow it takes me to a lighter place, a place of hope.
Know you are loved, thought of countless times daily, in my heart & prayers.
Yesterday I heard a song by Christina Perri called 1000 years..it reached into my heart and I felt like someone I lost had been singing to me through Angels. I thought of STella..may the ANgels comfort and sing to you. I do believe her soul sings to Sam as she hold him.
Namaste
Fiona:
Nov 11, 2011 at 10:37 AM
Oh Mishi, I wish with all my heart I could wave a magic wand and make all that you and your dear sweet family are going through, go away.
You are going through hell, but you still hold your head up and love and cherish every moment. If I haven't told you this before, I say it now - you, Aimee, little Stella and little Sam are an inspiration to all.
Every day I hope and pray for a miracle. Every day I cry with you. Every day I send you warm thoughts and love & hugs...
Heather:
Nov 11, 2011 at 08:47 AM
It is of little comfort to the 'living' that our loved ones are headed to a better place. It makes us angry because we think, "What better place than with the people that love them?". I do believe that Stella does know where she is going and I do believe that when a person is dying, they possess more knowledge about 'heaven'or 'the other side', than we can ever understand until it is our time. When I tell people about Stella, if I make it through the story without crying (it hasn't happened yet)I say that 'there are some things that should not be'. An innocent child dying from an evil disease like cancer. That is an assault on humanity and we can't rationalize 'Why?'. Whatever Stella's mission here on earth is, she has touched the hearts of so many. People who don't even know her or your family (like myself) have gravitated to your sweet and sassy red-haired sweetie pie. At such a young age she has taught so many people such valuable lessons and changed the path that many of us will take in life. I will forever carry her and your family in my heart. Her life, although short has been filled to the brim with so much love. It's magical how she has brought so much Joy into this world. When it is 'time', so many of us will grieve but take solace that she is no longer sick. Your journey will be much darker and more painful but there will be so many lifting you up and trying to help you. I believe that Stella will be there too, quietly whispering in your ear while you sleep and telling you that she's ok. There is an episode of Stella and Sam where Stella tells Sam that the 'Sky Painter' is the one that makes the rainbows and the sunset. One day, Stella will be Sam's 'Sky Painter' and everytime you see something beautiful...a rainbow, a sun shower, soft falling snow, Stella will be saying 'Tella loves You".
Deb:
Nov 11, 2011 at 03:34 AM
I remember moments in my life - not so unlike yours and yet so very different. Moments when I watched the world go by and wondered how I ever, if I ever, was part of that busy-ness. I can tell myself - pneumonia, high risk pregnancy bedrest, miscarriage, divorce, depression - these too are all life --- but I cannot reconcile how this - what you are living - too is life - the life you've been given. I'm sorry. I also tho, remember what it's like to step back into life and even if at first I didn't believe it was possible - my life became better and I rejoined life from a new place - different from the old - a new normal so to speak. I wish for you peaceful times watching the world outside and appreciating the one you are living. I wish for you a new life of 4 (may Stella's soul always travel with you). Your writing, your spirit, your family- touch my soul. Thinking of you all with love and hope. Deb
P.S. Words are funny things... the text to verify I am not a spammer on the site tonite... "new meulati"... it occurs to me that there might not be any real word to describe the life you are currently living or the one you will live post Stella. Perhaps this is the universe's way of telling us there is life beyond what we can currently conceive. If it were possible, then, I wish you a "new meulati".
Tyann :
Nov 11, 2011 at 02:41 AM
Beautiful. Heart wrenchingly beautiful. I pray that God will hold you all in His arms, lifting you, guiding you.
Sylvia:
Nov 11, 2011 at 12:27 AM
I still pray for a miracle,reading your post had me on a roller coaster of emotions. I cannot even begin to imagine your pain or your strength. Stella is a very blessed child to have you & your beautiful family. You are forever in my heart.
Stephanie Amaral:
Nov 10, 2011 at 11:15 PM
This entry truly made me cry. Poor Stella has no clue what is happening to her and it is very very sad to hear that she has lost alot of her abilities. I pray for Stella and for your family everynight and really hope that a miracle happens. It's great that Stella loves her baby brother so much and is spending some time with him. You and Aimee are amazing parents and Stella is so lucky to have you two. I love the picture of Stella and Sam, its priceless. Thinking of you all.. xoxoxo
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