Please Be Gentle

Disclaimer: It's about to get real, folks. You don't have to read this, but you should. Also:

1. This post is not about you specifically. 
2. However, if the shoe fits, please try to wear it with grace.

Okay.

So here's a conversation that Dustin and I have with unpleasant amounts of regularity:

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The Cast:

Person (P): Person who knows us fairly well, but doesn't know the intimacies of our situation

Us (U): Me and/or Dustin

The Setting:

Real life; an innocuous catching-up; typically in a busy public place.

Script: 

U: Ruby's doing great, thanks for asking. She's 5 now. Big stuff.

P: How cute. I bet she's getting so big. And how's um...the sister? Do you guys see her too?

U: No. We haven't seen her since last fall.

P: Nods head, registers information. Oh. How's Dustin's job?

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Let me tell you some things about this conversation:

1. It sucks.
2. It's the worst.
3. I hate it.

After we had this conversation about a hundred times, it started to go a little differently:

U: Ruby's doing great, thanks for asking. She's 5 now. Big stuff.

P: How cute. I bet she's getting so big. And how's um...the sister? Do you guys see her too?

U: No. We haven't seen her since last fall. And it's terrible. We're really heartbroken. 

P: Nods head, registers information. Oh, that's sad....How's Dustin's job?

See the difference? The difference is Us begging Person to respond in a way that acknowledges our pain. It says, "Hey, I didn't bring this up, but since you're asking, we're really having a hard time right now."

Listen, Person. I don't want you to say, "Oh, that's sad" like we're talking about someone we barely know whose cat got hit by a car. Honestly, I don't know what I want you to say. But I can tell you that I want you to recognize the gravity of this situation. We're talking about OUR KID here. We're talking about how Ruby is 5 years old, and the only person she has consistently been with since she was 2 years old just FELL OUT OF HER LIFE. We're talking about our 3-year-old child, who disappeared out of our home and our family.

It sucks. It's the worst. I hate it. And every time this conversation happens, I want to cry. And if I'm honest, sometimes I want to yell at Person: WHY ARE YOU ASKING THAT IN THE TONE OF VOICE YOU WOULD USE TO ASK ME WHERE I GOT MY SHOES? I LOST MY KID I LOST MY KID I LOST MY KID DON'T YOU GET IT?!

Let's compare this to another conversation we have sometimes, about our dog, who died in 2011.

U: Ruby's doing great, thanks for asking. She's 5 now. Big stuff.

P: How cute. I bet she's getting so big. And how's um...the dog? What's his name again?

U: Mr. Captain. And um, well, he actually died suddenly a while back.

P: Looks appalled and distraught. Oh my goodness!!!! I'm so sorry!!!! I had no idea!!!!! Wow, that's so awful!!!!

Here's why that conversation goes differently:

1. Person recognizes that something very bad happened.
2. Person understands that this probably makes Us sad, and empathizes.
3. Person feels bad for bringing it up.

What's weird is that The Sister Conversation is seriously so, so much harder for Us than The Dog Conversation, and yet, the conversations go contrary to what you'd expect. We loved Mr. Captain, and we miss him, but he was a dog. I actually always feel a little bad for the person who inadvertently walks into the "our dog died" conversation, because s/he always seems to feel so bad about it, and really, we're okay with it. We miss him, but don't beat yourself up for asking about him. How could you have known?

I don't feel bad for Person when Person inadvertently walks into the "we lost our kid" conversation. I feel bad for Us. And every time, I wonder why Person responds that way.

Having had the "what about the sister" conversation repeatedly, I think I kind of get it. Lots of people don't know what it's like to be a foster parent or a co-parent or a part-time parent: why would they? I think maybe they think that since the kids going back and forth between parents/living situations/custody is a regular thing for us, it must not be that hard or that big of a deal. Plus, from Person's perspective, it's not like The Sister (what's her name again?) ever really beLONGed to Us....I mean, she just lived with Us for a while, but foster parents do that all the time, right? 

Some quick clarification: the going back and forth between custody isn't easy. Yes, you get used to it, and yes, it becomes your "normal," but it's never easy. And yes, yes she did belong to us. Heart and soul.

Because my parents raised me to be tactful and kind even when other people aren't, I've also thought about what I can do to make this conversation go differently, and the conclusion I've come to is this: I'm not going to be able to fix it. It's all I can do to respond to Person's question in a calm tone of voice, with as little judgment as possible. I can't make it easier on Person, because I'm too busy trying to just answer the stupid question without crying. And also, you know what, I keep hoping that Person will respond appropriately. That s/he'll be sad. Be empathetic. Be sorry s/he asked. If I play down the emotion and struggle of this situation, how is Person ever going to know to be more careful next time (let's hope there's not a next time) s/he encounters another person in a situation like ours? 

Okay, I'm about to be presume something, for the sake of making this easier to relate to. Before I do, let me just say that I do NOT know what it's like to lose a child to death. I can't pretend to imagine the pain that must cause. But for the sake of this example, and because it's something people can relate to, imagine that Victoria (her name is Victoria) was happy and healthy, until suddenly, she became violently ill, and after a short (but well-publicized) struggle with illness, she died.

Now revisit the original conversation.

U: Ruby's doing great, thanks for asking. She's 5 now. Big stuff.

P: How cute. I bet she's getting so big. And how's um...the sister? Is she better yet?

U: No. She, um, died. In the fall.

P: Nods head, registers information. Oh. How's Dustin's work?

....Not cool, right?

Again, I don't know what it's like to have my child die. If you're reading this, and you've suffered that particular tragedy, please know that I'm so, so sorry, and  I wish I had words that would somehow make it hurt less, or that there was something I could do to ease your pain. I wish I could hug your heart and make the hurt go away. I don't equate my situation to yours; the only reason I'm drawing this comparison is because the loss of a child is something most people can imagine and relate to. I am not in any way diminishing the catastrophe you've suffered.

I do know what it's like to lose a child suddenly, and to feel, in a very real sense, like you'll never see her again in this lifetime. I do know what it's like to hear your preschooler cry every day for her sister, and to be powerless to help her understand why she can't see her. I know what it's like to be up at 3am writing a blog post about it because I can't sleep for thinking about it. I know what it's like to just stop talking about it, because it's easier not to. I know what it's like to wonder if it wouldn't be easier if she HAD died - at least then we wouldn't be in perpetual limbo.

So please. Please be gentle. Please don't ask about Victoria to satisfy your own curiosity. Please only ask if you're prepared to recognize and deal with the gravity of our loss. It's very real, and raw, and terrible for us, and especially for Ruby. We miss Victoria every day, painfully and heartrendingly. We cry for her and we ache inside at the most unexpected times. I'm not being melodramatic; I'm being real.

If you can't be gentle, or you don't know how, ask someone else. Don't ask us. Plenty of people know the details of the situation, and you can satisfy your curiosity through them, without eviscerating us. You're right to think that we want to know that you care and that you remember Victoria, but we don't want it enough for you to make us suffer through a brutal, careless conversation about it. We'd rather not talk about it with you if you can't handle it with sensitivity and empathy and kindness. I'm not trying to be harsh; I'm exercising self-preservation for myself and my family.

And in general, in life, with everyone, try to be more gentle. (This is an admonition for myself, too.) Think before you speak; and then, having thought, speak gently. You might think you're asking a simple question when really, you're stepping on a landmine strapped to someone's heart. And at least if that happens, and it will, because we all mess up sometimes and ask stupid things....if it happens, show some humanity. Don't just look at the exploding shrapnel like it's part of a foreign disaster on CNN. Have a heart, and try to take some of the pain with you - it will make your friend's load just a little bit lighter to know you're carrying it with her.

Stuff my sister says

You might know my sister, Danae. She's pretty great. Something earlier this week led  me to think about how much I admire her, and how much she has influenced me....sometimes in major life decisions....sometimes in smaller ways. Oh! I know what it was - it was that I had turned over the new leaf of flossing (again....that particular leaf keeps getting flipped onto the wrong side), and it reminded me of her. You'll see why - I'll get to that in a bit.

So I thought back through my life with my one and only Sister Mine, and wanted to share a bit of her with you. Imagine me telling you these things in a very firm, type-A, "I love you but you have to do what I say" type of tone, with a smile at the end, and then a hug.

At the beach in 2010.

1. Take a prenatal. 
No, I'm not pregnant. No, I've never been pregnant. However, Danae insists that I take a prenatal vitamin, and as always, she's 100% right. Her reasoning: but what IF you got pregnant, and what IF your baby was born with spina bifida, which is TOTALLY PREVENTABLE. You would be wracked with guilt. Just take the stupid vitamin.

Oh, and just to be clear - I didn't actually research this on my own, so don't ask me about the validity. I just do what she says.

So I take one of these every day now. It is giant and it tastes like dirt.

Dirt-flavored vitamins for horses expectant or just regular women.

2. You won't be weird. You'll be you, but happy. 

When Dustin and I were engaged, I found myself to be very weepy. Like, all the time. It was a gradual thing, though, and it kind of snuck up on me. I also struggled to participate in things I previously would have really enjoyed - social stuff, mostly. Even getting out of bed got really hard(er).

One night when I didn't go to a church service as expected, and instead went straight home and to bed (at around 6pm) and cried myself to sleep, the next thing I knew....Dustin was there beside my bed, with Danae right behind him. I don't remember that much about it, except I was crying, Danae was comforting, and Dustin was maybe a little bit freaking out (quietly). I do remember Danae using my mom's dinosaur of a laptop to access an "Are You Depressed?" quiz on the interwebs, and then forcing me to answer the questions one by one. At the end of it, she gently told me that I was most likely clinically depressed, and I needed to get help.

I protested, because I didn't want to feel "crazy" or "mentally ill" or any of those other very stigma-oriented things we call people who have mental illnesses. I said I didn't want to be happy by taking a pill, that I wouldn't feel like ME anymore if I was a medicated me. She politely corrected me, and said, "I'm your sister and I'm telling you to go to the doctor."

I did. She was right. I'm better now, thanks to a handy little green pill I take every day.

**Quick props to Dustin for sticking with me at that point, when he definitely could have bailed. I did NOT hide my crazy, as Miranda Lambert so wisely suggests doing. Love that man.

Celebrating a friend's birthday a couple of years ago

3. Go do what you need to do, so you can be with Dustin!

Rewind a little bit....to about 9 months before the above incident....and you'll find me - an impulsive, indecisive, just-turned-21-year-old with a life choice to be made. I was dating a guy, but the relationship was headed nowhere - almost entirely because of me. I'll leave it at that. (By the way, he's a totally good guy.) Anyway, so meanwhile, Dustin had decided to keep his distance from me because he didn't want to cause trouble between himself and the guy, who happened to be a friend of his, too. WELL. I was NOT happy. Dustin had grown to be one of my closest friends, and we spent time together nearly every day (hence the trouble between himself and the guy, which seems much more reasonable in hindsight).

We all know the adage about absence and heart fondness levels. So yeah - being without Dustin made me realize that not only was he my best friend, but I loved him. GASP. I forced Dustin to talk to me (he's really quite stubborn) and he confirmed that, yes, as he'd been clearly indicating for some time now, he wanted to be with me too. (He didn't technically say the "L" word until 3 days later.)

Well. Back to Danae. For whatever reason, on the day of this realization, I had to go to the tire shop to get a tire replaced or repaired or something. It may or may not have been because curbs are always getting in my way. While I was waiting for the tire guys to get my car taken care of, I called my sister and told her the whole ridiculous saga. I had decided to go break it off with the other guy as soon as I was done at the tire place, and I was terribly nervous, but also irrepressibly happy. Also sleep-deprived, since the talk with Dustin lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. Maybe even the medium-sized hours of the morning.

This is getting too long. So anyway, I said something brilliant, like "I just feel so bad because I don't want to hurt his feelings but I just know I want to be with Dustin now," and my lovely, wonderful sister wasn't critical about how I'd handled the situation. (LOTS of other people were.) She was happy for me. I could hear her smiling over the phone as she said, "Well I've been wondering! Dustin is so great! Go do what you need to do so you can be with him!"

See how she's right about my life all the time?

Best day of my life

4. Don't you wake up every day and think about things you're going to do better?

If you know Danae even marginally, you'll notice that she's a constant self-improver. She works REALLY hard at everything she does. She's one of these people who reads like 50 books and All The Websites about any new thing in her life. (Like I said, I don't actually do any research of my own. I just ask her. It's much more efficient.)

At some point, I offhandedly said something about how she was always turning over new leaves, and she looked at me blankly for a second, and then said, "Don't you do that? Don't you wake up every day and think about things you're going to do better?"

It was my turn for a blank stare....then a laugh....then an incredulous, "....No."

However, some amount of growing up later, I now think of that conversation often, and I DO try to improve myself continuously. Well, mostly. I take breaks sometimes. And let's be real, I don't wake up thinking ANYthing, except the standard, "Seriously, whyyyyyyy is it morning?!" or similar.

Auntie Nae and baby Victoria, shortly after the girls came to live with us

5. I'll read to you. 

Up until she got married when I was 12, Danae and I shared a room together. In the last few years, we even shared a bed (and the way she tells it, I was the worst co-sleeper ever, what with kicking and over-cuddling and lying on her stomach and talking in my sleep and so forth. But don't listen to her.). Before that, though, we had bunk beds. They were kind of short, and Danae outgrew the bottom bunk when I was maybe 8 or so (after she hit her head on the underside of my bed one too many times)...and then she got the top bunk.

For what feels like a very long time, my childhood self had nightmares. It still feels like it happened every night - it's hard to say how often it really was. When a nightmare woke me up, I usually did that awesome thing kids do, where they go force themselves into their parents' bed.

On one particular occasion, though, I remember Danae being awake when I woke up, and she must have heard me tossing and turning. (Often after a bad dream, I had a hard time going back to sleep, because I was afraid I'd have another.)

Best Big Sister Ever moment - she invited me up into her bed, and offered to read to me until I fell back asleep. I had been reading on my own for years by that point, but she read and read until I fell asleep (she did at one point say, "Hey, you're supposed to be trying to go to sleep.").

This is the book she read to me - a childhood favorite of mine:

The Worst Witch, by Jill Murphy.
Makes me want to reread it.

6. There's nothing more important than this.
When Dustin and I first got Ruby and Victoria, it was just mind-boggling how much of the day being a parent took. I realize that those of you who were already parents are laughing as you read this. I quickly became worried about all the things that weren't getting done....I was tying shoes, but the dishes were still dirty. I was reading bedtime stories, but how was the laundry ever going to get folded (or, for that matter, washed)? I had a baby on my hip like, 90% of the time I was home, which meant I was doing most things one-handed.

I loved it, and I knew we were doing a good thing, but I worried. I got overwhelmed. Somewhere in there, I vented to my sister (who, along with my wonderful mother, was a tremendous help during that time), who told me: "Keep telling yourself, when you're rocking a baby or changing a diaper, there's nothing more important than this." It helped.

Now I just ditch the laundry and dishes on a regular basis and go do more important my-kid-will-only-be-little-for-so-long types of things. So, um, warn me if you decide to drop by.

That sling was loaned by, you guessed it, Danae! Look at that sweet baby in there.

7. If you need moral support, I'll go with you.

This doesn't apply to any particular situation...I can't even count the number of times she has said this. For doctor's appointments, for court hearings, for any situation that promises to be tricky or stressful, she always offers to go. Sometimes that means getting a sitter for her daughter, or abandoning other plans, or getting up early, or driving long distances....but she always offers. And you know what? It does help to have her there, so I usually do the selfish thing and take her up on it. That's why I'm the baby sister.

Victoria and Auntie Nae at a Valentine's Party in 2012

8. I'm your sister, and I'm telling you, you have to ______. 

This is another one she has said more than a few times - usually in relation to my health. I bet she doesn't even realize it's a Thing She Says. Or maybe she does. Anyway, it works, with 100% accuracy. She's very persuasive. I tend to be afraid or noncommittal or a procrastinator about my health. Danae makes sure I make it a priority.

Danae bought me this sweet necklace for my first Mother's Day. The dangling gems are the girls' birthstones.

9. I would never just....paint the bathroom orange. 

Remember the blank stare about self-improvement? This was another blank-stare moment. When I was in college, pre-antidepressants, but probably post-already-being-a-little-insane, I painted my bathroom orange. Now, there's a Right Way to Paint Things, which I'm sure you already know about. It involves blue painter's tape, and choosing paint chips, and purchasing paint samples, and acquiring the appropriate tools and so on.

Yeah, I'm not that kind of a painter. Well, now I am, a little bit, but only because Dustin lives here and he insists that I exercise forethought.

So basically, I decided to have an orange bathroom, so I went and bought some orange paint, and I used some kind of a paint brush or something that was around, and I painted the bathroom orange. Easy peasy.

Now, it didn't look super great, but it looked....like....I had painted it with very little planning. And I loved it! So whatever!

Years later, Danae and I were talking about impulsivity - a trait her daughter and I both have in spades - and she was talking about how she can't relate, and she said the thing about my orange bathroom. Who knew it had been plaguing her all those years. :)

It looked like this, only basically not at all:

My An orange bathroom

10. Do you want me to talk to her for you?

Another more general example: when I'm struggling with something or someone, my sister always offers to take the brunt of the situation for me. When the people Victoria now lives with refused to work with us to schedule visits with the girls, Danae started calling. Daily. When I was diagnosed with depression while trying to plan a wedding, she offered to call my boss and request stress leave for me. (I had been at my job for 4 months, and was terrified to have my personal life affect my new grown-up job.)

I usually don't take her up on it (I think), but sometimes I'm like, "YesssssssbestsistereverpleasedothisformesoIdon'tavetodoityou'rethebest." And then I go try to convince myself that I'm still a grown-up.

11. Tell me when they're coming, and I'll bring all my baby stuff!
A few weeks before Ruby and Victoria came to live with us, we found out they had been taken from their mother and placed in an emergency foster home. We had decided we would take them into our home if we could, but we had to go through the appropriate steps - go to court to commit to fostering them, take expedited foster training, have a home inspection, and a bunch of other nerve-wracking things.

When we talked to our friends about it, we got a lot of, "WHOA DUDE THAT IS NUTS" and also some, "Wait, do you even know these kids? Or like them?" and the occasional I-hope-you-don't-actually-take-me-up-on-it-but "let me know if you need anything." (To be fair to all the amazing people in our life, we also got an abundant outpouring of help and moral support and excitement, and we're eternally grateful.)

My family, though, was the absolute best. My mom and Danae dropped everything in their lives and provided childcare for us until we found a permanent solution. They also came to our house while we were at work and magically created a nursery by combining two already-full bedrooms into one. My parents said, "You'll be wonderful parents." My brothers told us they were proud of us. They have all helped us with our parenting struggles, and have given advice on how to deal with the girls' unique situation. They're awesome.

Sibs, circa 1990

But this post is focused on Danae. :)

Danae was all-out excited to be an aunt to the girls, and to help us get ready for them. Standing outside our church building on a Wednesday night, I was telling her that it could be any day now, we really didn't know how long it would take before we'd actually be bringing them home, and I could see the wheels turning and the plans formulating in her brain. "I have a high chair and a crib and a changing table and a ton of clothes and where could we get a toddler bed and what size clothes do you think they wear?" She said, "Call me as soon as you find out and I'll be there as soon as I can with whatever I can bring for them!"

And, naturally, she kept her promise.

We couldn't ask for a better auntie for our girls.

Halloween 2011 (can I just point out that Ruby's expression is priceless?)

And this, my friends, has been a Very Long Post about my sister: the godly, intelligent, talented, funny, ladylike, sweet, courageous, so-many-things, beautiful Danae. Love you, sis.

A sample of Danae's recent art.