The Loss of a Child


I have found a group called M.S.A. on Facebook and it is a second home to me. There are so many supporters for this terrible disease. People know what is happening. I can ask questions about this illness and there are so many hugs.

My first home is here at WP so I feel especially blessed to have such a large, extended family coming from all sides.

My daughter and I were able to speak for a few minutes last night. I asked her questions that I did not understand, and it felt so good to have her take the time to answer me. I don’t always like the answers I am told. I don’t think any of us really want to face that giant wall of knowing we are facing death of a loved one.

Yesterday I learned that another precious adult child was taken to heaven. The mother posted her loss.  The grief that is in a parent to lose a child before they, themselves have taken leave, I would think would be devastating.

My Grandma has lost two of her daughters to God. Each time it happened my Grandma would say the same thing. ” It should have been me first, not them. I am the Mom.”

I can’t say that I know exactly what she is feeling as I am blessed to have my own children with me, but I can feel her pain.

My loss of words could not be spoken to Lucille but I am able to write in word what I feel. I wrote her this poem this morning and I thought, maybe my friends here at WP would like to see it also.

Here it is;                                                                            babybook4AnimatedCandleThoughtandPrayersM.S.A. logo

MY CHILD
It doesn’t seem right
It doesn’t seem fair
We give birth to a baby
He is with us every where.
We grow older
He grows up
He brings us smiles
As he sips from a cup.
Our hair begins to gray
He is thriving in school
We tear as he graduates
He has learned every tool.
We settle into retirement
He is told he is ill
We take our morning coffee
While he takes his pills.
Then one day we cry
As he left our arms for God
We stand at his grave
And look down at the sod.
It doesn’t seem fair
It doesn’t seem right
That we are still standing
But he lost his fight.
Written by
Terry Shepherd
In dedication to
Lucille C.

 

I Want to go Back


 

I wanted so badly

To grow up

But no one told me

Broken hearts

And falling walls

Could touch me

In places that

Were once virgin

Stretching out my

Arms to you as

You walk by

I touch my baby

I carry within

And I cry as

I see we are over

I want to go back

Take my time

Do not hurry

Start all

Over again

Now I am old

And the child is grown

And I look out

Over the horizons

And wonder if you

Are still traveling

Strumming your

Love songs

That play on  your heart.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

9/11/2013

guitar

Picture it & Write/ Ermilia


http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2013/09/01/picture-it-write-16/#respond

Jon felt his life was just putting too much pressure on him. He seemed to believe that he didn’t have a life. Pieces of his soul had been ripped and torn; given to others. Every time he tried to connect a piece of the puzzle back together the goal was broken.

He sat now looking down. Using the height of magnitude he was able to see where it started. His parents owned a business. He became their gopher boy. Running errands, fixing meals, taking care of baby sister.

In between these jobs he tried to go to school. Concentrating on learning was replaced by what he had waiting for him at home to complete. He wanted good grades. He dreamed of going to college. He could taste the success of becoming a doctor.

But by the time he finished instructions left for him he was too tired to study. He would fall asleep after his parents came home. He would wake up, drool lying on the pages of his book.

As time progressed and he wasn’t needed for a sitter so much his rules were changed from sitter to driver. He learned about money. He paid bills, he budgeted his parents checkbooks.

One time he even had to barter with the electric company because his parents had let the bill slip by and he was the one who had to make arrangements to get it turned back on.

His gift to learn was his key to him keeping good grades. When his counselor called him in and offered him applications for colleges he quickly grabbed them. When he got home and he had the little bit of time to call his own, he filled them out. The next day he was back in the school office turning his pages in.

When the news came that he had been accepted his heart jumped out of his body. Genuine smiles were seen in each class. He was going to be a doctor. But how was he going to get a way? How was he going to claim his right to live as his own?

When he went to bed each night, he made the time to pray. He prayed for a way to escape. He needed space. Night after night the ritual went on.

The day came. It was graduation day. He walked proudly through the line accepting his diploma when his name was called. He looked out over the crowd hoping to see the glow from his parents’ but only his mother had made time to attend. Even his sister had not made it a priority to show up.

That night holding his diploma in his hand he realized that he had one week before it was time to leave. A new life was holding the doors open for him. His name was on the list. Tugs were pulling at his heart. He needed, no he wanted and desired this opportunity more than anything in life.

When he fell asleep he had a dream. He was sitting below the heavens. Placed on a cloud of success with his name on it he looked over his life and at the lessons he had learned. Determination and not giving up were his biggest teachers.

Now he turned a way. He looked towards the doors being held open for him and the cloud steered him in through the open ways of a bigger and better life. The world was his and he was not going to let it pass him by. He was on his way to becoming a doctor.pictureitandwrite2copy-1

man-sitting-on-a-cloud

Coming Into My Own


Looking at my reflection

 

Standing in front of framed glass

 

Running fingers gently over curves

 

Feeling blossoms which

 

Were once only buds

 

Turning in 360

 

As a flowing ballerina

 

Music flowing from the

 

Keys of my own thoughts

 

Slender legs so shapely

 

The eyes see no end

 

I have come into my own

 

Whom once was an ugly duckling

 

Locks of golden curls lying

 

Ever so gently against milky skin

 

Today is my birthday

 

I smile as I lift my dress over my head

 

It falls smoothly filling each bend

 

Satan slippers grace each foot

 

Golden beads hug a touchable neck

 

Matching dangles dripping from each lobe

 

I am no longer a child I say to myself

 

As I look one more time at my

 

Reflection smiling back at me

 

It is time, exactly as planned

 

To enter a new era

 

Walk through new doors

 

Experience my first kiss

 

I must go I hear them

 

Calling out to me

 

As I make my first entrance

 

Shadow of youth following

 

Leaving it at the door

 

As a moth becomes

 

A butterfly

 

So have I now become a woman

 

Terry Shepherd

 

03/06/2013

 

Pascale Hutton wearing Paul Hardy - Heart and ...

Daily Prompt; Perspective/ The Daily Post


Do You Really Want to Hurt Me

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Daily Post

Dp

Write about the last disagreement you had with a friend or family member — from their perspective.

I don’t know about you but the only people I disagree with and try so very hard not to get into arguments are with my children. Isn’t is a sad thing? I hear that families disagree more than any other unit out there.

My kids they really love me and they are not afraid to voice their thoughts when they see me heading towards murky waters. I realize that they know me pretty darn well. I understand that they want the best for me. I have even heard them tell me they want me to be happy.

It is actually the best thing about having children in my eyes. They may not come visit near enough in my book of rules. But they are the cat’s meow in my life. Showing me unconditional love.

I absolutely hate it when we tar and feather each other. Like chickens we peck at each other trying to sway us that they are right and I am wrong. Our beaks hurt each other and leave small scars beneath the surface.

I get both sides. They are the children wanting the best and I am the mom. I have made it all through my life with the only boss that really made me listen were my parents. I have gone through marriages and divorces and am still standing.

I have dealt with so much crap with my brother that I should only be found by using a fork lift and sifting through the manure. So it only makes sense that my children realize my  pain and  grief. They want to take care of me from a distance so to say.

They don’t live with me. They do not see what my eyes do. Nor do they hear what I hear. None the less it is awesome to know that they love me enough to throw their two cents in. If they ever quit doing this I will be worried for sure. Silence can mean lack of caring.

I just wish the poisoned darts were not tossed at each other. We are all sharp shooters never missing the target. We each know exactly where to throw those darts that will cause the biggest pain. They aren’t really trying to hurt me. They are trying to do what they can to wake me up to what they are trying to express.

Being a mother is not just giving birth. It is to include changing dirty diapers, pacing the nights trying to calm a crying baby. Feeding and doctor’s appointments. Educating and nurturing. You have a big party when you watch them walk to receive their diplomas.

In a way that is only the first couple of stages of having a child. When they are grown and move out of the nest they still need you. It is just in different ways. They need and have the right to know that parents still love them. Realizing that we would lay our lives down for them in order not to have them hurt as we were.

But in the end after all the love is shown and tears are shed together, the ultimate hurt is the disagreements. But we have to go through these moments in order to keep growing in our love for each other. I love ya kids!!!!!!!

Daily Prompt; Cliche / The Daily Post


Grandparents

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Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.

When is the last time I felt like my bird in the hand was worth two in the bush? I really don’t know. Lately, I have not felt like I was the smartest pea in the pod. I have been dealing with massive amounts of paper work for my brother. Trying to understand the hidden meanings of government words.

Trying to abide by all requests and then discovering even more was wanted or needed. You know life seems so easy until you start looking at blank pages. You get out your dictionary and look up uncommon words. You try to make whole sentences down to one simple thought.

I guess the bird in the hand for me is the medical background. I may be in the dark room filling out paperwork by candle light, but when it comes to how patients should be treated my little bird tells me that certain things are not acceptable.

There are times when families come together and discover they have met the end of the road. All that is seen in the future is big boulders placed in the path. All uneven, no way of knowing how to get around them. The end result; placing Grandma or Grandpa in a skilled facility.

Oh the guilt that pops up  is horrendous. A smack in the face when we realize we are no longer going to our families homes for dinners or Easter egg hunts. No more family Christmas‘s like there used to be. Did we do enough? Are we making the right decisions? It happens to a lot of us until we work through it.

Did any of us know that life was really going to change this drastically as our age progresses? I don’t think we make it a priority to sit and ponder on it. We get wrapped up in our own lives, not because we are cold to anyone, but it is what it is. Paying bills, getting our kids through school, working our fingers to the bones to put food on the table. Trying to get our 401K’s big enough to take care of us when we hit the golden years.

Then the bomb drops. We get a medical problem that wasn’t on the schedule. A brother or sister or Grandma or Grandpa gets really sick. We go in with blinders to the nursing facilities. We go in with confidence because we know our loved one so well.

Without our approval we are thrown papers and stacks of blank pages wanting our signatures. All of a sudden the tornado is spinning as we are slowly but not entirely giving the care of our loved ones into strangers hands.

We find many times we are talking among ourselves about decisions that have been made. What do you think Auntie would think about this if she could speak for herself? I know that Grandma is used to taking her showers on Saturday mornings first thing after breakfast. Do you think she will mind having to wait until Saturday night right before bedtime. Hey we all know how much Grandpa hates mixed vegetables. Did you see that big helping they gave him for dinner last night?

Many new doors are opened and suddenly we realize so much that we took for granted; information that we have known for years, no one else is aware of.

I am thankful for the years of experience I have gained. I have taken care of dying patients, family and Hospice. I have taken care of disabled and the geriatrics. I have come face to face with hitting, spitting and plain old-fashioned confusion.

I didn’t realize at the moment that I was building a huge book of etiquette for the human soul. Kindness and respect along with dignity are I believe more important at this point than ever before.

Don’t put your loved ones in a new home setting thinking you can leave and everything will be alright. You can pay your weekly visits and leave thinking what a nice visit. Remember back to when you had your own children, or maybe back to a younger time when you babysat for money. What was the adults highest regard while you were caring for that child? What was your biggest concern in raising your own children?

We need to go back to those times and remember them. Write them down, stick them in your memory box, tie a string around your finger. I am so grateful for my experience. Now I can quickly see when things are not right. There is a huge difference in making sure someone is taking their medications and eating and then mixing in compassion and love for a human soul who has the right to dignity to the last breath.

Daily Prompt; Seconds / The Daily Post


Hospital

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Describe the most satisfying meal you’ve ever eaten, in glorious detail.

 

There was a time many moons ago when I was very ill. I had hepatitis. It stayed for a while and then I had my first child. Months later it surfaced again. My parents had to take care of my child for almost a year while I tried to heal. Finally that day came.

About three years later I wanted to have another child. My wants and it happening didn’t happen so quickly. The hepatitis had damaged my liver and my gallbladder. I got sick again and continued going to the doctors so many times I can’t even remember the count.

The problem was the doctors were trying to heal me from the hepatitis but at this time that wasn’t the problem. It was my gallbladder. I was so sick that I would go to the ER for shots that would knock me out for 24 hours at a time. I was so ill that I couldn’t keep water down any longer.

At this point the doctor admitted me to the hospital. I had seven tubes running into my body to keep me alive. I don’t remember what test it was that finally detected the rotten gallbladder but it was almost  too late. I was dying.

The doctor tried to reach my parents, but they were on vacation miles a way. My grandmother became my fill-in mother. She was with me at the hospital every day. The doctor came in to tell me that they could not operate on me. He could not remove the gallbladder. It was too full of poison.

He took my grandmother out in the hall and told her I didn’t have much time left. I was going to die. My grandma told me this later after I was better. Every hour on the hour nurses came in and flushed out tubes. I was fed through IV’s. My stay in the hospital was 21 days and it was spent ridding my body of all the toxins.

I was eventually felt  better but they still could not take the gallbladder out as I was too weak. I went back in the hospital about six months later and had it removed. Only after it was removed could I consider having another child, which I was granted that wish.

After being dismissed and going home I was very weak. My mom and grandma would bring me food every day. The best food was the home-made chicken noodle soup my grandma made me.

It was a golden-yellow with tender cut noodles that she had made herself.  Small pieces of torn home-grown chicken surrounded the noodles. Spices were added to enhance the already fabulous flavor. The broth had the most awesome taste. I wanted to let it linger in my mouth and not swallow it. I made each bowl last as long as I could and I would beg for more when the soup pan was empty.

I believe that this wonderful soup helped to heal me. I will never forget the taste of this soup. Even today after years gone by, I can still smell it and taste it.

Daily Prompt ; Undo / The Daily Post


Efe ve dedesi

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If you could un-invent something, what would it be? Discuss why, potential repercussions, or a possible alternative.

I can think of a few things I wish didn’t exist. Should I name them all? Should I name my top thoughts? I better stick to simple.

Eyes that could see no difference. Wouldn’t it be great if we saw each of us through only our heart and souls? If our eyes could not see that we each weight differently. That we could ignore the label on the clothes, or the longer eye lashes? How about the neighborhoods we live in. What if we could be blinded to everything and only see lips move and hear  what is being said.

Take this one category and sub-divide it. Bullying. I just hate the word bullying. I hate what it represents. Adults have a way of being sneaky. We have grown and learned how to hit certain buttons to upset others. We have learned to pick out the red button that we know will devastate another soul if we just click on it.

Children on the other hand are born innocent. Even in elementary years, innocence is still high on the top ten list. I am not going to dive on the jumping board and go behind the scenes and say what make children do what they do. I am going to stick to the surface, skim the pool.

I can remember back when I was young I developed earlier than the other girls in my class. I was wearing a bra months before other little girls. Lord only knows why, I am not blessed today. LOL

Boys and girls picked on me all the time. I was also heavier than some of the other little kids. Not obese but it was obvious to the naked eye. I got called fatty and heard the old saying fatty fatty two by four can’t get through the kitchen door. I heard that so often that If I had collected a dollar for every time, I would not have to be looking for a part-time job today.

Today manners are at the lower level and this allows wicked tongues to speak hurtful words. In the past five or so years it has walked on one more stepping stone. Now not only is there pain in words, there is physical pain.

If my parents ever witnessed or heard of me hurting someone physically I could guarantee I would not be able to sit down comfortably the next day. I am in awe each time I hear of children and teens beating  up on others. Prepared with weapons of knuckle busters and bats floors me. The weakest ones will draw strength through sharing their thoughts with other weak students, thus forming a rotten cheering block.

The main instigator feels power. Power in the mouth and hands. For the prize of acknowledgement and acceptance great strides are taken to end up the winners. Are they winners? Of course not, but they don’t see it that way.

This in turn leads me back full circle to my beginning statement. What started this? What happened before the first word was spoken? What pain is that child carrying to make him lash out.

I refuse to believe that there are many children who get off or love to hurt others just for the fun of it. There may be a small amount, and if there is, we need to work harder to see if there is a medical reason hiding behind them.

Well I will get off of this topic. Other wise you will still be reading about this at bedtime. Our children are our futures. It takes one minute to conceive a baby. It takes a life time to raise and nurture them. Many pebbles are tossed in our path as we lead them from infant to adult. As parents we can only do what we know best how to do.

Lord be with the adults who don’t want the child, but refuse to let any other caring human raise them. Lord be with the children that are homeless. I pray for young minds to never be starved for knowledge. Lord I  pray that you wrap your arms around those who are hurting. Bring comfort to them. Lord help us adults to not look the other way. I pray that you help guide our thoughts throughout each day. Let us be a blessing instead of a thorn. Help us Lord, for our world is like it has never been before. Amen

What Happened?


Cleavage

I am not bitching ; I am just wondering.

Today when I went out I had to go to the bank and have some papers noterized. Now I have gone to this bank for over fifteen years. Everyone in there knows me. There was one new girl working today. She could have been a fill in or maybe a new employee. It didn’t matter.

She gave me a hard time. My bank account number was not good enough. All the information I gave her verbally she could verify through her computer. She called over two other tellers and ask them if they recognized me. One said yes and the other said no.

I looked her in the eye and said, “how can you say this? You wait on me all the time. You and I set up accounts for my brother here”. She played dumb. I don’t know what was going on behind the counter at the bank today, but I didn’t want to be a part of it. After words were exchanged for several minutes, I finally got my way and left without saying goodbye.

The second incident happened when I was leaving the grocery store parking lot. I saw a cart to the side of my car. I checked to see how close it was to my car door. I know I should have taken it back to the cart storage area but it was windy and I just didn’t want to have my lungs have that much chilly air plus the winds so I left it sitting where it was.

I got in my car and a fancy white car pulled up in the same area I was only two car spots down. I started my car as the forty-year something guy got out of his car. He walked over to the cart that was by me and he swung it around in full circle.

He was not paying attention to my car or maybe he really was. He came so close to taking off the paint on my car that I actually ducked my head with my hands. It made me very nervous. He looked at me and mouthed something at me that didn’t look very nice. I swear I didn’t do anything. He must have been having a bad morning and decided to take it out on anyone near him.

What makes people lose the respect for other humans? If I would have acted like that with my mother around she would have reprimanded me so bad. What is the saying? Treat others as you would have others treat you?

This is not the only time I have observed such things in public. It always makes me wonder what goes on behind closed doors at home. I have seen kids running through the grocery store knocking things off of shelves while a parent is talking on a cell phone.

I have seen parents slap a kid right across the face in front of me. I have even seen couples arguing in public and have heard some pretty choice words being exchanged. I think it is so pathetic.

What has happened to society? Where did the rules change about public behavior? Family morals? Child abuse? I don’t understand anymore. Can I fix it? Definitely not alone, and I don’t even know if it can be fixed in group settings.

A lot goes on today that I do not approve of. The ones I see the most are the children. I have seen people stealing in stores. I have seen too many naked butts from guys wearing their jeans too low.

Oh believe me there have been times when I would be considered a tattle tale. If I think a child is in danger I will report it to a store manager. I have even reported teen guys with pants at the knees. I don’t want to see their butts or their boxers. To me this is a big turn off.

What about women and young ladies that have to show all of their cleavage or women who brag about the size of their chests. Who cares? Who really wants to know? There is so many more important things in life to be concerned with than  body size, at least in my opinion.

If things don’t change and some morals brought back into our lives I hate to see what will happen to our young grandchildren. How will they act? How will they treat their mates? Will they respect their parents or grandparents?

I don’t know the answers but I can say truthfully that I am so glad I am the age I am. I am all for having fun in life. Laughter is the best medicine of all. But when you degrade yourself as a person or a mate or a parent, you have crossed the line.

I hope the gentleman that swung the cart is in a better mood tonight. I hope that whatever was going on at the bank this morning was resolved. Life is good, let’s keep it this way.

Picture it & Write, January 06/2013


http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/picture-it-and-write-2/child smoking

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wanted to smack her! I am sorry but I have worked and worked with this child of mine and nothing has worked. I have three children. Holly is the middle one you see in the photo above.

I at first felt great guilt at yelling at her for smoking. I smoked also, so how could I tell her not to? She is a child, this is why. I am an adult. I know the sentence that could lie ahead for me with smoking, she does not.

She was always the one child who feared nothing in life. Holly dared anything she could get by with. Strong personality, aggressive in thoughts. The first child that learned to talk back at such an early age.

She excelled in school. Each teacher she encountered always made the same remarks about Holly. She was very smart and caught on to her school work quickly. Was she too smart? Was she gifted? Should I consider advancing her in grade levels. Does she need to be challenged more?

When it was her and I at home, she was defiant. It was like she had Edward Scissorhands;  daggers for me. Anything I asked she fought. If I talked nice to her, she mocked me. I was beginning to think she was the child from hell.

How could she fool everyone else but me? Teachers adored her. Classmates played well with her. It was only me, a single parent left to raise three kids alone. I had to work, I had to put food on the table and pay the bills.

I felt too much guilt for not being there when ever she needed me. I was so sure that I had done something wrong in my rearing of her, that I bent over backwards to give her all that I could.

Her siblings would tend to cause problems for me as it seemed like I treasured Holly more than them. This was not the case though. I was trying to get through each of my days in peace.

I had Holly tested in many areas with different specialists. Nothing positive ever came out of it. She always tested normal. I asked family, friends and even other children’s parents if they had children like this.

There responses were a laughing no. If they had children like that, they would provide them with a tough love. What was tough love? I had never heard of this? I researched it on the internet.

tough love

NOUN:

The use of strict disciplinary measures and limitations on freedoms or privileges, as by a parent or guardian, as a means of fostering responsibility and expressing care or concern.
Wow, I was doing it back words. I was carrying the guilt for not being there. I was letting her manipulate me. I needed to change and change right now. I decided the next day would start the new me.
I saw her after school smoking. She saw me coming near and the look she gave me was I dare you to do anything. I took her at her idol threat. I could not stand it any longer.
I pulled my car up along the curb and put it in park. I got out and went over to her and said, “Let’s go. Put the cigarette out and please get in the car”. She stood her ground and took a big hit off of her cancer stick. She replied with a catty voice, ” I will go when I am ready. I can walk home. I don’t need a ride”.
I took the cigarette out of her mouth and threw it on the ground. I stomped on it until the red glow was completely out. I took her by the hand and I pulled her to the car with her screaming at me. I didn’t give a shit who was watching me. This child was going home with me!
I got her in the car and buckled her up and went to my side and got in. I locked the doors and started the engine. Off we went for home. We were both silent, which was fine with me. I was thinking, what am I going to do with this child once I get her home. Talk to her? Scold her? Ground her?
When we walked into the front door of our home she began to rant. She was calling me names and stomping her feet. A very big tantrum for a child her age. I stood there quietly as she continued her performance and then I took her by the hand and sat her down at the kitchen table.
I said to her, ” I am your mother. I am tired of letting you control my emotions. You are destroying my days. I don’t know why you act this way with only me, but it is over. I will not tolerate any more actions from you. The smoking is over. If I catch you doing the smoking thing one more time, I will have to send you to boot camp for bad kids”.
She laughed and said, ” You wouldn’t dare. I will report you for child abuse. I will tell the police that you abuse me. I will run a way from  home”. I looked at her with an emotionless face.
The two of us became very quiet, as we digested what the other had said. After a few minutes had gone by she asked, “Why do you hate me so mother? Why do you treat me worse than the other two? What did I do to make you hate me so much”?
I looked at her and my mouth opened to speak. Be careful what you say. I know you want to lash out at her. You want to tell her how miserable she has made you but don’t. You love her, you just don’t like the way she is acting.
I spoke saying, ” I love you very much Holly. You get treated the way you do because mom feels guilty. Guilty for not being here for you. Guilty for the divorce and you growing up with only one parent”.
“But the other two, you must feel guilty about them too right? I mean, they are living with one  parent also, right”?
“Yes, this is true, but you are the one who brings about more challenges for me. You have tested me more than your siblings. I lose my patience with you Holly. You are always testing me”.
” I just want to know that you love me mommy”. Holly said crying.