The Kiddos

There is absolutely nothing that brings me greater joy than observing the deep love and friendship my children share with one another. Moments like when the squeak of the school bus brakes sends Miles sprinting outside to welcome the kids home with a hug or when Mason and Brynn sneak into one another's room and fall asleep together. These are the moments that make every day worth it. 

I'll always remember the awful moment when I realized Ellie wasn't going to make it. I was slammed with so many indescribable thoughts and emotions, but all I can remember saying over and over was, "What are we going to tell the kids?" I don't think it's fair for me to say that my kids loved Ellie more than other children love their baby brother or sister, because that's probably not true. I do, however, believe that when we sacrifice for something, our love for it deepens. My kids sacrificed so much for Ellie that the relationship they had with her felt like more than just your typical brother and sisterly love. A lot of people have asked me how the kids have been doing since Ellie's death. My answer: they are doing surprisingly well. Just as each of them had their own unique relationship with Ellie, they have each had their own way of working through their loss.

Mason is a thinker and finds comfort in understanding things. He was the one who wanted to be there whenever we changed Ellie's trach so he could see the hole in her neck and how the trach went in and out. He looked up pictures and videos about ear tubes placement to understand what it meant when we said Ellie had tubes put in her ears. He always has a lot of questions and is not satisfied with superficial and fluffy answers. He wants to understand what is really going on. One night shortly after Ellie died Mason was irrationally upset over something random but eventually the truth of what was really upsetting him came out when his yelling turned into "...and the doctors and nurses didn't do anything. They didn't even try to save Ellie..." and he wouldn't believe otherwise until we described every single thing they did from doing chest compressions to starting an IO (interosseous access = IV in the shin bone) to give her medications. Those were not the pictures of Ellie's final moments I wanted to paint for my 7-year-old, but that is the information he needed to accept that there was nothing else we could have done. Another night he mentioned to Scott that since he was the one who got Ellie sick (he got sick right before Ellie did) it was his fault she died. Again, we had to explain the whole process of what happened inside Ellie's body (to the best of our understanding, which is limited) and that she didn't die just because of the sickness, which was not his fault in the first place. Thankfully, as time has passed he doesn't seem to focus on her death as much as his memories of her.
Mason's favorite thing was to make Ellie smile and laugh so it's no surprise that he loves to look at pictures of Ellie making funny faces and smiling. My aunt an amazing photo book of Ellie's life for us and gave each of the kids their own. Not a day goes by that I don't find Mason up in his room smiling and laughing at his favorite pictures of Ellie. He likes to talk about Ellie, especially the funny things she would probably be doing if she was with us in any given situation.

Brynn is a nurturer. She loved to take care of and protect Ellie. She was always by my side doing Ellie's cares and therapies or just playing with her baby sister. I could hardly even walk when I was carrying Ellie because Brynn would be bouncing and hopping in front of me talking to Ellie and tickling her feet as we walked. After Ellie's death Brynn turned all of her motherly instincts toward me. Before we left Utah she told my mom that she was going to take care of me when we went back to Omaha, and she did. She was always the first to notice a silent tear or a sad look in my eye and was immediately at my side hugging me and telling me, "It's okay to be sad, mom." She has always been very matter of fact when talking about Ellie dying, but her overall emotional state was extremely heightened for the first month or so. She would start to cry at the littlest and most random things and by cry I mean heart wrenching sobs. Twice her teacher had to call me to come and get her from school because she was uncontrollably sobbing and no one could calm her down. Her emotions seem to have settled down and she is pretty much back to herself. I can always tell when she's thinking of Ellie because she will go get her Ellie blankie and her forever bear to snuggle up with. She is ever an optimist and looking at the glass as half full. Unfortunately for me and my aching heart that often involves her using the phrase, "It's a good thing Ellie died because..." which feels like a dagger being plunged into my heart, but I know that it is just her five-year-old way of expressing her thoughts. She spends a lot of time drawing pictures of Ellie with our family and writing Ellie's name all over things. Every stuffed animal and doll she owns now has the name of Ellie.

Miles is...well...two. He doesn't really understand what has happened, which makes it hard. For the first few weeks after Ellie died Miles became a permanent attachment to my hip. He wouldn't let me so much as leave a room without carrying him with me. My once independent toddler refused to do anything, and I mean anything for himself. It was like my arms were finally available to him and he wasn't willing to let it go for even an instant because he thought Ellie would be back to take it away soon. As time has gone on and he has realized this is the way things are now, he has rebounded into wanting complete independence with a strong willed "I do myself" mentality. Even though Miles has appreciated getting more attention, he really does miss Ellie. He and Ellie had a very sweet relationship. As Ellie's personality started showing through more and more this summer, Miles always wanted to be near her and loved to interact with her. He was always trying to "make Ellie happy" by sharing his uh-oh with her (most often by covering her head with it), holding onto her saucer and running around in circles saying, "try and get me", and getting inches from her face and saying "hi, hi, hi" to make her smile and laugh. Now he is left wondering where his playmate has gone.  It is impossible to explain anything to him because he is right in the thick of the dreaded 'why' phase where he will insatiably ask 'why' to anything and everything we say. The hardest days are the days he becomes fixated on where Ellie is and why we can't go get her. There may not be a more heart wrenching and frustrating experience then trying to calm down your toddler who is throwing a huge tantrum because he wants to play with his little sister and you won't go get her. Then, after what feels like the hundredth time of trying to explain that Ellie isn't coming back home because she lives with Jesus now, he starts singing Daniel Tiger's "Grown-ups come back" to defend his point that she is going to come back. Thankfully these days are becoming fewer and farther between. He still considers her very much a part of our family and any time we are talking about people in our family he will pipe in, "and Ellie!" like he doesn't want her to be forgotten and left out. I love when he walks past the picture we have of Ellie sitting on Jesus' lap and he exclaims with the most genuine excitement, "Look! Ellie is with Jesus!!"

We talk about Ellie a lot and she is still very much a part of us.
Last week we got our first snow of the year and the kids couldn't wait to go outside and play in it. Pretty soon I heard Mason yelling,
"Look Mom! We're making snow Ellies!"

It made my day.