Taking Care of Yourself Isn't Silly

I remember the day I started taking care of myself. 

Even before Kitty died, the immediate need was to help Mandy and her family.  They spent a week living with us - from the day of Kitty's death until after the funeral.

I held it together fairly well that week thanks to drop-in visits from friends and neighbors and the busyness of making picture boards. 

Impending charges against son-in-law kept me in 'stay-positive' mode for the next two weeks.  The focus was on the future of Mandy's family.  There was no time to be overcome with the grief of losing my grandchild when all I could think about was what Mandy would do if son-in-law was incarcerated.  The charges came with the possibility of a four year jail sentence.  Yikes.

Exactly two weeks to the day of charges being brought, my mom died. 

My older sister went into hysterics of how we could have a funeral when there was no money for expenses.  Being the practical and - somehow - the calm and strong one, I pulled things together with my brother.

After we buried my mom, I received two phone calls every week.  I could set my clock by both.  One was from my dear aunt, a Benedictine nun.  She was concerned about me and how much more I could handle.  The other was from my friend Rita, who, with every conversation, reminded me that I needed to take care of myself. 

I thought they were both being silly. 

I was fine.  After all, I spearheaded the letter writing campaign for son-in-law, I was back to watching Belle twice a week, my little craft business was thriving and in October, Dasher was born.  I was way too busy to even consider that I might need care.

One thing I did have to deal with, however, was having my blood pressure meds renewed.  It was December - time to head to the clinic for the annual 'medication management' appointment. 

My doctor is more like the friend you dearly love, but don't talk to nearly often enough.  I ask about her dad who suffered a stroke and she listens to me ramble about my perfect - aren't they all? - grandchildren.

As I told Dr. Sarah the story of Kitty's death, I started to cry.  Tears ran down my face while I shared my loss with her.  There was no breakdown or sobbing, no gulping or gasping for breath.  Did I even need a tissue?  I don't remember.  I just cried as I spoke.  I apologized for and laughed about my tears.  My intention was to get my medication renewed, not to cry over what had happened since we last chatted.

That was the day - 11 months after Kitty's death - that I started to take care of myself.  Thanks to that one appointment and a follow-up with the clinic-affiliated counselor, I realized that I did need to get more sleep, I had to say 'no' when a request was too much for me to take on emotionally and it was essential that - at least once in awhile - my needs/wants had to come first. 

Parents always want what is best for their children.  When our sons and daughters hurt, we also suffer.  As grandparents, we need to remember that we have to be physically, mentally and emotionally strong after the loss of a grandchild in order to be available to help our family over the long haul.  We will never forget the child who died, yet we want to be present for our other grandchildren.

Do you remember the day you began caring for yourself?  Or are you still waiting?
It really isn't a silly question.