I won't be posting a new blog next week. The Southern California Writers' Conference is a week from tomorrow and I still have lots to do to be ready when Devan gets here to pick me up...including meet with Devan on Tuesday!
This year I'm anxious about the conference. No, REALLY. Anxious! Last year was a lark. This time I know that I have to talk to strangers and promote my work. If you know me, you know I'd much rather be behind the scenes. “Pay no attention to that woman behind the apron!”
This is all new to me! By nature I doubt what I have to offer. But I know that God gave me this job and if He says I can do it, I can do it! I don’t know yet to what end. Is the finished product going to be for my family and friends? That would be alright.
But I have a larger goal. I hope my book will eventually be in the hands of grieving parents. Caregivers. Friends of grieving parents. Anyone who could benefit from an inside look at this unique grief.
And to reach that goal I have to promote myself...in the social media stream and at the conference face to face with people who can make decisions about my future based on how I present myself.
Thanks for your prayers. And thanks for recommending my blog and website to everyone in your own social media stream. It really does make a difference!
http://www.debbiehaas.net/
http://debbie-haas.blogspot.com/
Peace be with you...
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
October 28, 2004
This time last year I was overwhelmed with anxiety and panic attacks. But on November 14 I woke up feeling lighter....as though I had stepped out from a dark shadow. I knew then that Dave had been right. It was apprehension over Steve’s approaching birthday causing the anxiety. That was the first year the guest of honor would be missing from his own birthday celebration, highlighting his permanent absence. This year I’m prepared for these feelings. I’m allowing the emotion but not the anxiety.
Since I started meditating I’ve been better able to breathe through the beginnings of a panic attack so it doesn’t get a foothold. I’m able to recognize the first hint of a rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms, and shallow breathing for what it is, acknowledge it, and release it. What a relief! Though the sadness comes and goes, the disabling anxiety isn’t the threat it once was.
I’ve been thinking so much about him today...
Steve, as a baby....
Steve, as a boy....
Steve as a young man....
Steve, as Husband and Daddy.
Steve, old before his time.
Steve, who would never know old age....
.
Since I started meditating I’ve been better able to breathe through the beginnings of a panic attack so it doesn’t get a foothold. I’m able to recognize the first hint of a rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms, and shallow breathing for what it is, acknowledge it, and release it. What a relief! Though the sadness comes and goes, the disabling anxiety isn’t the threat it once was.
I’ve been thinking so much about him today...
Steve, as a baby....
Steve, as a boy....
Steve as a young man....
Steve, as Husband and Daddy.
Steve, old before his time.
Steve, who would never know old age....
.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
October 7, 2004
Marisa and Ethan are home from the hospital! So good to visit them in their own comfy space.
Before going over to see them after dinner tonight, I took a special treasure to Albertson’s floral department.
The day after Nick was born Alice and Don came to meet their new grandson. She carried with her a small bouquet of flowers in a bootie shaped vase. As she placed it on the bedside table she told me, “This little vase was given to me the day David was born and I’ve been waiting all this time to give it to his first baby.”
I have protected this memento for 26 years, waiting as Alice did, to give it to my son's wife when their first baby was born. I was terrified I would break it before I could carry on the tradition started by my sweet mom-in-law. Tonight I walked into the store hugging my carefully wrapped treasure to my chest.
As Lauren filled it with a spray of tiny blue carnations and baby’s breath I told her the story behind it. “...I’ve managed to keep it in one piece and now that my son is a daddy I'm relieved that I can hand it down to his wife.”
“No one has ever brought in an heirloom for me to fill. That is so neat!”
After finishing the flowers she placed the bootie in a box and protectivly surrounded it with floral foam to insure I reached my goal.
“Be careful! And, no charge for the flowers. I hope your daughter-in-law likes it!
She does....and now Marisa is waiting to pass it along to Ethan's wife!
Before going over to see them after dinner tonight, I took a special treasure to Albertson’s floral department.
The day after Nick was born Alice and Don came to meet their new grandson. She carried with her a small bouquet of flowers in a bootie shaped vase. As she placed it on the bedside table she told me, “This little vase was given to me the day David was born and I’ve been waiting all this time to give it to his first baby.”
I have protected this memento for 26 years, waiting as Alice did, to give it to my son's wife when their first baby was born. I was terrified I would break it before I could carry on the tradition started by my sweet mom-in-law. Tonight I walked into the store hugging my carefully wrapped treasure to my chest.
As Lauren filled it with a spray of tiny blue carnations and baby’s breath I told her the story behind it. “...I’ve managed to keep it in one piece and now that my son is a daddy I'm relieved that I can hand it down to his wife.”
“No one has ever brought in an heirloom for me to fill. That is so neat!”
After finishing the flowers she placed the bootie in a box and protectivly surrounded it with floral foam to insure I reached my goal.
“Be careful! And, no charge for the flowers. I hope your daughter-in-law likes it!
She does....and now Marisa is waiting to pass it along to Ethan's wife!
Monday, January 31, 2011
October 6, 2004
I woke up blue this morning. Steve’s absence has cast a pall over the joy I bathed in just yesterday. My limbs were heavy as I showered and dressed for my trip to San Diego to visit Marisa and Ethan at the hospital. During the thirty minute drive, alone in my car, I started to cry. The closer I got to the hospital the harder tears came. I’ve gotten pretty good at functioning while I have a good cry. I can sob, eyes wide open, mind alert to the cars around me on the freeway.
Once I found a parking spot on the quiet road behind the hospital I sat in my car and just let loose. I wanted to go in to see them, to cuddle my new grandson but I was overwhelmed with the sadness of this powerful first. The first baby born to the family since Steve’s death. Nick’s baby. Sitting in my car, tears running unchecked down my cheeks, I imagined how different this day would be with Steve here. Even the little boy’s name would be different. Steve’s first son is Nicholas, after his brother. For years Nick and Marisa planned to name their first son after Steve. But right now the family is still too raw to introduce another Steve into our midst. And such shoes to fill! How could Nick do that to his son? The time isn’t right...yet.
How Steve would have reveled in this event, sharing the experience of fatherhood with his brother! He was such a doting uncle to Kirstie, Kyle, and Josh. I know he also would have automatically loved Ethan, the baby of his lifelong best friend, his brother. And how Steve would have razzed Nick!
But I knew I was wasting precious time sitting in my car creating artificial memories. It was time to go in and enjoy my family. I sucked in a deep, ragged breath, mopped my face, and blew my nose. I started the long walk to their room, one foot in front of the other, getting a little easier, a little quicker, with every step.
When I arrived Marisa kissed Ethan’s forehead before passing her snuggly wrapped bundle to me. I pulled him close, involuntarily anointing him with fresh tears. We settled into the chair near the window, sunlight bathing this new little piece of our future.
My finger traced Ethan’s ear, jaw line, and nose as I examined the small details of my newest grandchild. Crooning to him and visiting with his mom my sadness was crowded out by new joy.
Two hours later I walked through my front door, memories of my own children bouncing around in every room. And I was smiling.
Yes.
A new baby.
A new beginning.
Once I found a parking spot on the quiet road behind the hospital I sat in my car and just let loose. I wanted to go in to see them, to cuddle my new grandson but I was overwhelmed with the sadness of this powerful first. The first baby born to the family since Steve’s death. Nick’s baby. Sitting in my car, tears running unchecked down my cheeks, I imagined how different this day would be with Steve here. Even the little boy’s name would be different. Steve’s first son is Nicholas, after his brother. For years Nick and Marisa planned to name their first son after Steve. But right now the family is still too raw to introduce another Steve into our midst. And such shoes to fill! How could Nick do that to his son? The time isn’t right...yet.
How Steve would have reveled in this event, sharing the experience of fatherhood with his brother! He was such a doting uncle to Kirstie, Kyle, and Josh. I know he also would have automatically loved Ethan, the baby of his lifelong best friend, his brother. And how Steve would have razzed Nick!
But I knew I was wasting precious time sitting in my car creating artificial memories. It was time to go in and enjoy my family. I sucked in a deep, ragged breath, mopped my face, and blew my nose. I started the long walk to their room, one foot in front of the other, getting a little easier, a little quicker, with every step.
When I arrived Marisa kissed Ethan’s forehead before passing her snuggly wrapped bundle to me. I pulled him close, involuntarily anointing him with fresh tears. We settled into the chair near the window, sunlight bathing this new little piece of our future.
My finger traced Ethan’s ear, jaw line, and nose as I examined the small details of my newest grandchild. Crooning to him and visiting with his mom my sadness was crowded out by new joy.
Two hours later I walked through my front door, memories of my own children bouncing around in every room. And I was smiling.
Yes.
A new baby.
A new beginning.
Friday, January 28, 2011
October 5, 2004
He’s here! Nick and Marisa’s baby boy, Ethan Nicholas Haas is here. October 5, 2004, 4:23 PM, 9lb, 3oz. Healthy! Beautiful! A perfect little baby face! Marisa did great! Nick still seems to be in awe! He was with her the entire time. They didn’t want anyone else in with them for the birth so Lydia and I waited in the full to overflowing waiting room with rest of the family.
At about 4:20 I grabbed my fellow “Grandma-in-Waiting” by the hand and we took a walk around the hallway toward Marisa’s room. Standing outside her closed door we could hear the lusty wail of a newborn, our mutual grandson. Lydia and I bear hugged each other before heading back to the waiting room to share the news. Nick met us there minutes later, red-eyed and still teary, and led the family to the room where we were given a proper introduction to Mister Ethan. The throng that had been filling the waiting room now filled the birthing room.
What a wonderful way to welcome the newest member of the family!
A new baby. A new beginning.
At about 4:20 I grabbed my fellow “Grandma-in-Waiting” by the hand and we took a walk around the hallway toward Marisa’s room. Standing outside her closed door we could hear the lusty wail of a newborn, our mutual grandson. Lydia and I bear hugged each other before heading back to the waiting room to share the news. Nick met us there minutes later, red-eyed and still teary, and led the family to the room where we were given a proper introduction to Mister Ethan. The throng that had been filling the waiting room now filled the birthing room.
What a wonderful way to welcome the newest member of the family!
A new baby. A new beginning.
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