Timing

Tami at Rhiannon's Grave

Wednesday is a long and strenuous day for me. I have Maya's practice in the morning, then I rush home to change and head to Boise for EMDR therapy, then back home and in to softball uniforms only to travel to Lea's game somewhere. I knew today was going to be hard. I have never really talked to anyone about Rhiannon. I have wrote about it on here, not many details but not really even to Harlen. Today we were going to work on the memories of Rhiannon and her death, also what followed. I was shaking on the drive over. It had been a long time since I had let those raw feelings surface. 5 minutes before I arrived at the Docs I received a text from an old friend. 5 minutes before the anger and hurt would come spilling out of my heart. She had visited Rhiannon's grave. She had made such an effort as to find the caretaker to find her grave. She brought balloons for her. She let me smile before I walked in the door to pour out my soul. Such a small deed from such a big heart.  I am sure today would have been harder without her. Thank you so much

I remembered parts of Rhiannon's death that I had stuffed so far down in my psyche as to never come out. I remembered being asked permission to shut off life support on her after she arrived at the hospital. I was 18, an adult, or a child playing the part of an adult. I had just watched my baby die. They shut off the machines and wanted me to hold her. A child holding a baby, cold, lifeless, making decisions I was never capable of. I have been hard on myself for far too long. I believed that her dying was my punishment for getting pregnant. I didn't come to that belief on my own. I was treated as an outcast. I look back now and Dr. Booth helped me realize I survived at 18 what some would never survive. I woke up to a baby girl, dead, blood, watched my mom try to bring her back, but she was so cold. I lived through a viewing, graveside and guilt. I went on to raise some pretty wonderful kids and I am still trying to do that. Loughlin was a masterpiece and like most masterpieces they are not realized until they are past. I am a work in progress. Dealing with the guilt of Rhiannon's death is far easier than that of Loughlin's but maybe someday. I love all my kids, alive and passed. My heart hurts whenever they are hurt or when I miss them, which in Loughlin and Rhiannon's case is always.