Just Putting It All Out There

I have been so bad about blogging.  I'll try to get through this update.

Izaiah was in the hospital twice in December for several weeks.  He was completely out of control and it was very dangerous in our home.  Izaiah was being so violent and we could not control him.  He was breaking things constantly, including several doors, and we were living in a heightened state of fear.  He was hurting us daily.  I don't have the energy right now to try to explain what that looked like or how serious things actually were, but trust me when I say that we were fearing for his and our lives. We made the hard decision to have Ezra live with my mom and brothers in Arkansas for a while because it was just not safe for her to be here.  The police kept having to come, and at one point the seargant made some ignorant comments to me about how their job is not to come help us parent our 8 year old.  In the same conversation he also told me it was too much of a liability for them to keep coming out to our house because he was afraid his officers would have to hurt Izaiah because of the severity of his behaviors.  He told me the police would no longer come to our home unless it was to escort Izaiah in an ambulance to the hospital.  I lost count of how many times we did that, having him taken by EMS to the hospital.  When we would do that, we would sit in the ER for an average of 9 hours only to be stuck in a tiny room with an enraged and unstable child, only to be told what we already know: he needs to be hospitalized.  That, or they would just totally not get it and we would feel further defeated and victimized by the system that is supposed to help us.  

I asserted myself - appropriately, I guarantee you - with the police seargant about my understanding that their job was to ensure safety and respond during dangerous situations, and before you know it, the city had filed a nuissance against us.  We were scheduled for a hearing, and our cop friend told us they were likely trying to evict us (aparantly they can do that, even if you own your home???) and needed to hire an attorney immediately.  Fast forward to a lot of prayers and conversations with the city's prosecuting attorney (who was an angel, truly), and they finally dropped the charges.  

In December, we finally began to come to terms that we may need to look at longer term options for Izaiah and his brain disorder.  There are only two intensive residential treatment facilities in the country that specialize in treating what we believe is the largest issue, his Reactive Attachment Disorder.  Those two facilities are in New Mexico and Montana.  After spending a lot of time researching and we made the hard decision to pursue residential treatment.  Mark and I drove to New Mexico to meet with the staff of the treatment facility there.  We were impressed and believed that was what Izaiah needed and our only option.  Problem was, it would be a two year treatment and a quarter of a million dollars.  Mark and I looked for housing, jobs, you name it, down there and just could not figure out how to make it work with the magnitude of expenses.  The state of Missouri refused to pay for it, even though they are obligated by law, by the way, so we started an uphill battle of fighting to get the treatment funded.  Another adoptive family in St. Louis is fighting the same battle and brought a lawsuit against the state for the same reasons, and even they are not getting anywhere for a while, so we decided to stop fighting.  Truth be told, we were both out of energy or any extra emotional anything to fight this AND deal with our sick child.  I was going from work straight to the hospital, straight home and to bed, only to start the process again the next day.  I don't know how we were getting through it physically, let alone emotionally.  Mark was spending his days trying to either work part time, or on the phone with the hospitals, therapists, OT's, doctors, pharmacy, insurance company, state adoption worker, supervisor, case managers, respite providers, etc. etc. etc.

Izaiah was in the hospital over Christmas, and I really don't even want to revisit that recollection, even for purposes of updating this blog.  I'll just say it was the most miserable time of our lives.  We got to be with him for an hour and a half on Chrismas Eve and an hour and a half on Christmas.  They weren't going to let us bring him gifts, but finally relented as long as our visit was supervised by staff.  Did they think he was going to be opening pocket knives and bb guns?!  Seriously people.

In the midst of all the chaos, Dre was moved from the residential treatment facility he was ordered to (as a consequence for defying the judge and also to obtain substance abuse treatment) and into a foster home in North County.  He was refusing to come home, but was doing well there and they did not see the need for keeping him in a facility.  In a nutshell, Dre has decided to push us out and distance himself from us and his family so he does not get hurt.  He has been abandoned by literally every single person in his life until he came to our home.  His coping mechanism is to leave people before they can leave him.  We felt like we made so much progress with Dre in teaching him to just be a kid, to trust, and to be loved unconditionally.  When my dad died, he got scared and jumped ship.  I guess to have another person who said they would never leave him all of a sudden be gone reminded him that it hurts less when he shuts off his heart.  So he shut it off.

Dre's foster parent kept giving us the runaround and not bringing Dre to our house when he said we would.  As a result, we have not seen Dre since October and did not see him on our around Christmas.  That coupled with being our first Christmas without Dad, and I literally thought my heart might just stop beating.  I have never felt so lost and devastated.  I don't even want to talk about Christmas.  I can't talk about Dre without feeling sick to my stomach.  It's hard enough to grieve one person, let alone three of my deepest loves (4, if you count Ezra :) ), plus a mix of complicated factors.

Izaiah got out of the hospital just before New Year's and I'm happy to report he has been home since.  We have - once again - drastically changed our parenting approach with him.  We have started seeing a new therapist that specializes in RAD, put him on a gluten free diet, changed his medications, and he will be starting at a therapeautic school in the next week or two.  Things have been going much better.  God has been so good to us in this, even if it is just another calm before the storm.  We are always waiting for the other foot to drop.  Izaiah has been letting me hug him and play with him and cuddle him, and I have been giddy over it!  We'll take the small victories, however long they last.  

I miss my dad.  I miss Dre.  I miss Ezra.  I am deeply grieving the loss of them in my life.  I do know that God is good, even when it does not feel like He is.  I know that God will restore all things, and he is the God of reconciliation.  I have to keep telling myself that over and over sometimes to get through the days.

Our house is still caving in.  Who even cares at this point?  No excess energy to put toward that.

We have amazing - AMAZING - friends who I can't say enough wonderful things about.  God has spoiled us with our church family, our friends, supports, and family who we adore.  Mark's parents have been phenomenal to help take Izaiah on weekends when we desperately need a break.  It has been such a joy to see the restoration in that and how much Izaiah adores them.  My family, particularly my mom and siblings, are the most wonderful, supportive and lovable people.  Izaiah has been grieving my dad a lot, but he is also so sensitive to us and our grief.  He especially has grown closer to my mom and is constantly trying to comfort her.  That's so cool to watch.  

On Sunday, our friends, David and Daniella, came up to us after worship.  David said that God had told him he wants me to be reminded that he has a heart for me and grieves with me when I grieve.  When I am sad, He is hurting as well.  Such a simple reminder and yet such a powerful reminder that God is not watching from afar, but He is here, in the thick of it with us.  His love is a verb and He carries us even when we cannot feel it.  Words escape me, but He is such a faithful God.

Thanks for reading.  My next post will not be depressing, promise!  It will also include pictures!

All This Time

Izaiah told me this is his favorite song.  I feel the words almost jumping off the page.

I remember the moment
I remember the pain
I was only a [kid]
But I grew up that day
Tears were falling
I know You saw me

Hiding there in my bedroom
So alone
I was doing my best
Trying to be strong
No one to turn to
That's when I met You

All this time
From the first tear cried
'Til today's sunrise
And every single moment between
You were there
You were always there
It was You and I
You've been walking with me all this time
Oh,oh,oh,yeah
You've been walking with me all this time

Ever since that day
It's been clear to me
That no matter what comes
You will never leave
I know You're for me
And You're restoring

Every heartache and failure
Every broken dream
You're the God who sees
The God who rescued me
This is my story
This is my story------

All this time
From the first tear cry
'Til today's sunrise
And every single moment between
You were there
You were always there
It was You and I
You've been walking with me all this time
Ooooooooh
You've been walking with me all this time

I hear these people asking me
How do I know what I believe?
Well I'm not the same me
And that's all the proof I need
I felt love, I felt Your grace
You stole my heart that day

Ooooooooh
Youve been walking with me all this time

All this time
From the first tear cry
Till today's sunrise
And every single moment between
You were there
You were always there
It was You and I
You've been walking with me all this time

-Brit Nicole

Daddy's Heart

My siblings and I, especially Hannah and me, are always trying to get my mom to loosen up a bit.  My mom decided to come visit Hannah and me for Mother's Day since Izaiah was in the hospital and it was a rough time.  Like we do at least yearly, Hannah and I decided to try to convince Mom to get a tattoo with us.  We were super prepared this time, telling her it would solidify our bond and pulling out the (fake) tears.  Our idea was to get a tiny, simple little matching heart somewhere on each of our arms.  Of course Mom did not go for that idea, so we did pedicures instead.  I drew one onto my wrist, though, to show her how eensie it really would be.  No luck.

We decided to watch a movie while we did pedicures.  I will never forget the feeling I began to feel halfway into the movie.  I literally felt heartbroken.  It felt crushing, and my heart was physically hurting.  I sat through the rest of the movie, determined not to wuss out on our girls night.  All I could think about, though, was how heartbroken I felt and I could not understand why.  What in the world was wrong with me?  My heart had never physically hurt before.  But it wasn't a pain like "I need to go to the hospital" pain.  It was an emotional pain that tore all the way into my heart. As soon as the movie finished (12:07 to be exact) I ran into the other room and made Mark get up and hold me.  I thought something was really wrong with me because I felt devastated, like someone had died.  Mark convinced me to go to bed and sleep it off, assuring me I would feel better in the morning.

That was the day my dad died.  They found his body the next day.

We got to church the next morning and I knew right away that something was wrong.  The church leaders were rushing around and Mark was crying.  They took my mom and I into a conference room with Mark and some of the elders and Mark told us they had found dad's body.  My mom and I screamed.  It was the worst news, the kind you pray never to get.  No one knew anything except that he was found in the laundry room.  They said it must have happened that morning because he was dressed in his suit as if he were getting ready to leave for church.  I told everyone that he had died the night before, between 11:00 and 12:00, when I had had the heartbreaking feeling, but people insisted that he died that morning.

After what seemed like an eternity, the police concluded their investigation and my mom spoke to the coroner and detective who first arrived on the scene that morning.  They each said that Dad must have died instantly, because he was the most peaceful-looking body they had ever seen.  He hadn't felt a thing.  He didn't even have time to drop to his knees.  He just fell over and was gone instantly.  The autopsy supported their findings, showing that he died from a heart disease no one was aware he even had.

He had performed a wedding that afternoon, and then went to a business meeting in Little Rock.  During the break he played football.  This was the last picture ever taken of him.

I would like to think that's his guardian angel, ready to escort him up to heaven, since no one seems to be able to identify the other man in the picture.  He came home around 10:30 pm, then went in and talked to my brother for a few minutes.  He folded a load of laundry and then started putting in another load.  He went to pour the detergent and realized it was all gone.  That must have been the moment he died, because he never started the water or even made it to the recycling bin with the detergent bottle, something he would have done right away.  This would have put his time of death at around 11:00 pm.

The connection my dad and I have always shared has been very strong, but it puzzled me why I was the one that felt it when he died.  Felt the heartbreak, devastation, and actual pain in my heart.  I didn't know whether to feel comforted by my feelings that night or responsible for not doing something, like calling him.

My mom wanted him to be buried, and we decided to do an open casket for his wake.  My mom, siblings, Mark, Dre, and I gathered in the auditorium to view his body before others arrived.  As we looked at his body for the first time, it was crushing.  Yet there was a comfort I felt because he was not there.  The body was not him, but just a shell.  We all stood there together, trying to accept the moment.  Then we all seemed to see it at once and instantly we all gasped.  A beautiful, perfect little heart about the size of a dime was imprinted on his left hand.  It looked like a tattoo, but of course it couldn't have been.

Mom broke the silence.

"Well....I guess we're gettin' that tattoo."

I can't help but feel like my dad (or maybe it was God, who knows) put that there as a sign.  His last message of love to us.

Miss you, Dad. ♥

Hermann

We went to Hermann last weekend for a close friend's wedding.  Chris Landuyt, a dear, dear friend, married Ashley, who we love, in the most awesome setting.  Hermann is known for being a quaint little German town with lots of wineries.  Mark and I stayed at a bed and breakfast one night and now I'm hooked.  I always thought bed and breakfasts were the dumbest thing.  This was our first time to stay at one (other than Selah, but that was different because it was a retreat) and I realized I have been missing out for all these years!  Ours was called the Serenity Guest House.  The downstairs is a day spa and there are only two bedrooms.  You get the run of the entire house at night, but you have to share a bathroom, which is a little weird.  Totally worth it, though.

We had breakfast at this adorable little bed and breakfast run by a German couple.  Apparently they serve the best breakfast in town.  Their home was so gorgeous and the food did not disappoint.

The wedding was stunning.  It was held in a chapel overlooking the bluff.  Chris and Ashley were so happy and could not have been more beautiful.  My dad was originally supposed to perform the ceremony.  The man who ended up doing the ceremony used my dad's Bible and talked about him during the ceremony.  I was a little worried that others might find it tacky or that it would take away from Chris and Ashley's day, but it was beautiful.  They had a candle lit in my dad's honor that had a poem/message engraved into it.  They did a cool toast in the middle of the ceremony.  .Mark was in the wedding and was so so handsome :)

Hannah always catches the bouquet! 

My mom and sister came for the wedding, and this was their first wedding without my dad.  It was really good to be with them that day. Of course buckets of tears were cried, and we used his favorite shirt as a collective hanky.  I had asked God to let Dad be there for the wedding and to give us a sign that he was.  Other people kept saying they knew he was there or could feel him there. I was later disappointed because I had not felt him at all.

Ashley and Chris then posted this picture, and you can see the heart right under Chris's chin.  If you don't know the significance, I will post that story next.  I think I cried for an hour straight when I saw this.

Turbulance? I'm fine. My Dad is the Pilot.

I'm still crying every day.  Some days it will be 10:30 at night and I think, 'I haven't cried today! I'm getting adjusted.'  And then I get on facebook and see the picture of my dad with us on my sister's facebook wall and lose it.  A few days ago Izaiah begged to go see where Dad was buried when we go to Arkansas.  He asked to dig it up so he could lay there with him and cry.  Until then I had never envisioned going to his grave site.  The thought caught me off guard and sent a wave of longing through me.  He was buried close to my grandparents' farm and my family's property.  In recent years we didn't go there much together, but I can't remember a ride down to the country when my dad didn't drive.  You know the story in the Bible about the horrible storm while Jesus and the disciples were at sea?  Jesus slept right through it like it was nothing, and they had to wake Him up and beg Him to save them.  I have never had a hard time understanding that story.  My dad drove wherever we went, and there wasn't a safer place in the world to be as long as he was in that driver's seat.  I'm sure to some it might seem like such a silly thing but to me it feels like I will never have that innate sense of complete security ever again.  I've lost so much sense of safety with him no longer in this world.

I realized a new layer today of just how much of my identity has always been tied directly to my dad.  I was Jeff Woods' daughter.  Everywhere I went, everyone knew my dad and loved my dad.  I LOVED to tell people he was my dad.  It was instant acceptance, instant trust and respect.  Aside from "wise", "caring", and  "humble", when I think of my dad often a quote comes to mind.  I think you will likely agree that this quote could easily have been made with him in mind.

"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel."

Monday Night Thoughts

*There have been several break-ins in our neighborhood in the past week.  I just watched a man pushing a lawn mower down the alley.  While I am a bit of a vigilante, it is getting tiring having to call the police constantly.  In the [recent] past I would have chased him down.  Now that I'm a mom, I don't feel quite as obligated to risk my life for someone's lawnmower.  Tonight, however, I was tempted.  A few months ago I had just had it with these two West County-looking guys about my age who keep meeting their dealer across the street from my house.  I yelled at them from my door and interrogated them, gave them a piece of my mind, and then took their pictures on my phone.  Yes, I am ballsy and a bit grouchy when my 16 year old has been purchasing drugs from some idiot in our neighborhood - maybe your drug dealer - and as a result he cannot live in my home.  So no, I will not keep my opinions to myself when you are purchasing drugs within feet of my front door in broad daylight and you can't even do it discreetly.  I have not seen them since.

*I think I have some sort of food allergies.  I'm trying to get back on my strict Weight Watchers diet, cutting out all dark meats and dairy.  When I do that, I feel great.  When I don't, I feel confused, nauseous, and my brain feels funny.  Is that from a food allergy?

*I'm finally starting to feel like I'm coming out of "The Fog".  Words - mine and yours - are starting to make sense again instead of just getting jumbled in my head and making me feel crazy.  It is still exhausting to try to learn to live without my dad, but I'm getting the hang of it.  It's just that every relationship I have has changed, every event, holiday, belief, interest, thought, and experience has completely changed in the context of my dad not being here.  It's hard to explain.

*Dina Lohan's interview on Dr. Phil was fascinating.  Dr. Phil at his best.

*I'm slowly learning that having people in our home does not have to look a certain way.  Sometimes we stop everything to watch "The Cosby Show".  We fart out loud.  It can be Mark telling three little boys who refuse to eat their dinner that he doesn't like the quiche, either.  It can be letting friends scrounge for food, even after we've just fixed a nice dinner.  Guests can clean up after themselves and do the dishes.  I don't have to serve dessert.  It's okay that the floors look filthy.  My child argues with EVERY THING I SAY.  There is always laundry on the family room couch that needs to be put away - always.  That's real life.  Welcome to the Fitzgerald's!

Social Workers

This is so true.  I get paid (crap) to do paperwork and piss people off.

Izaiah's Grief

Izaiah has had several great days in a row.  We had alone time together and he was kind and respectful.   He played a very successful game of Monopoly with me this morning.  This afternoon he even kissed me on the cheek!  *SWOON*

On Friday night, Izaiah insisted on watching this movie on Netflix called The Fifth Quarter.  It looked good, but sad.  We watched it as a family, and boy was it!  It was about a family whose teenage son was killed in a car accident and how they coped in the aftermath.  In the middle of it, Izaiah just burst into tears and was sobbing, saying he didn't want to lose his daddy.  Mark and I just held him and loved on him.  This was not completely out of nowhere, since he has been preoccupied with people he loves dying since my dad died.  I hate that he did not get to be with us for the Memorial Service.  I'm glad he was spared from all the agony the rest of us experienced that week, but since he did not witness the process, he has no reference point for how to grieve.  I can tell he is not sure whether to be sad, angry, confused, thankful, etc.  He brings it up several times a day, but in ways that tell me he is confused.  He will say, "It sure is gonna be hard without Papa," and sighs real big.  Later he will say something like, "Papa is stupid," and seems to be mad at him.  Some days he asks a ton of questions about Papa's new body, or if Papa is coming back.  He has been talking about not wanting to lose his grandma.

So when he cried during this movie, I was somewhat thankful since it gave him an outlet to express his fears and confusing emotions about death.  After we processed it together, something completely changed, and he has not been angry since.  I want to have something for Izaiah that helps him to remember my dad and their special relationship.  Izaiah adored my dad and he adored Izaiah.  One of the last things my dad posted on his facebook wall was this:

     "My profile pic is of me and my grandson whom I refer to at times as "Tornado" for a good reason.  I 
          love storms!!"

I desperately don't want Izaiah to forget that bond.  Thinking that he one day might makes me hyperventilate.  I have one of my dad's favorite t-shirts for Izaiah.  One of my mom's friends suggested making it into a pillowcase for his "snugglie" pillow.  If anyone has any other ideas, let me know.

Izaiah is HOME!!!!!!

Izaiah is HOME!!!!!!!!!!  We are sososososososososososo happy.  Also sosososososososo scared.  We had a big party for him, which was awesome!  He has so many amazing people that love him.  We are very blessed (and highly favored.......anyone?)

I'm okay with this blog becoming more grief related for a while.  I'm deeply grieving, and this blog is a cathartic outlet for me.  I'm sitting here in make-up for the first time in months.  Today will be the test of its proclaiming waterproof abilities.  Any time I thought of my dad before he died, just thought about him, it would make me tear up.  I just loved him so much, so ridiculously much.  Any moment I was away from him was hard for me.  He was so much apart of me, and I loved him so much it hurt.  I'm sitting here, trying to think of a way to describe that, but I really can't.

Many, many interesting posts coming up, if I do say so.  Love you all!

Spark of Life

I have no idea what to tell first.  Spark of Life was one of the most amazing things I have ever done in my life.  There is so much to tell, so much that I still need to process.

The retreat was held on this adorable ranch in Texas.  It was so beautiful, surrounded by ponds and grassy fields.  I never knew Texas was pretty!  The place we stayed was called Selah Ranch.  It was like a really big Bed and Breakfast.  Each room was decorated very uniquely, and it was such a homey, yet upscale environment.  Every detail of the place was well thought out and meaningful, from the art on the walls, the amazing meals, Tempurpedic mattresses, endless glasses of homemade iced tea, and huge gift baskets in our rooms.  There was a large flat screen TV in every room, but you would have hardly noticed it, nor would you ever need it.  There were cottages separate from the main house.  The place was surrounded by grassy fields, huge oak trees, and I counted 8 large ponds.  Every nook and cranny was decorated or had such thoughtful detail.  There were several gardens.  You could walk the property and find benches, tree swings, chairs, etc. all over the property.  They had plenty of golf carts that you could just head out with whenever you felt like it.  There was something so peaceful about riding that golf cart down the long, paved, tree lined road that led to and from Selah.

There were 17 participants, plus four group leaders.  We did a lot of time together as a group, learning and processing our losses.  I don't want to say too much about it because I want others to go and get just as much out of it as I did.  I will say that we were pampered to the point of disbelief.  We broke out into groups of three a lot during the weekend, and those were the people whose stories you really got to know.  Some people were there because of the death of a child, parent, friend, partner, or even a loss that did not include death.  We had homework each night, and it was so meaningful.  It was not faith based, but had a lot of spiritual components.  No discrimination, religious guilt, or self righteousness, even though one of the leaders is a pastor.  Anyone of any faith could attend this and find it to be so healing.  There were several components that they taught were necessary in order to get out of the "pit" of your grief.  I realized that I have been dealing with my dad's death in a really healthy way, but there were still things that I needed to deal with.  We all cried buckets throughout the weekend, and not just because of our own losses.  We really got to know the others that were there, and the losses they endured.  Such as baby Will, who died at two months old; Cowboy, who died at age 52 from a heart attack; or Max, who was killed in a car wreck two weeks before he started as a Freshman in college.  It was hard to see others going through such raw pain, but also so cathartic.  Everyone there just "got it".  There were so many things that did not have to be explained.

David, Debbie, Rusty, and Nancy were the leaders of the group.  David and Debbie started the organization a few years ago after losing their infant grandson.  One of the losses they worked through this retreat, though, was the loss associated to their son being sexually abused.  Their son is now an adult, but when David was a minister at a church in another state, his son was abused by someone in the church, and it occurred AT the church building.  They did not find out until years later, after their son confessed that he was struggling with his sexuality and thought he was a homosexual.  He got into therapy for the sexual abuse and worked through a lot of things, one of them being his sexuality.  After years of therapy he realized that he was not a homosexual, but had been made to feel that way since his abuser was a male, the abuse was pleasurable, and he did not try to stop it from happening.  The son later went on to get married, which he never thought he would do.  He and his wife were expecting a baby, but the baby died 7 minutes after he was born.  This caused many layers of grief, partially because the son and family never thought he would biologically have his own children.  To feel like they had come so far with their wounds from the sexual abuse, and then to have this child, the one they never thought would exist, be taken from them felt very unfair.  That's when they decided to celebrate his life by helping others cope with their losses, thus Spark of Life was born.

My family and I, as most everyone else there also indicated, gained so much meaning and healing from the weekend that I would dare call it profound.  I feel like I got to a better place with my relationship with my dad.  I think it was good for Mark to be given the space to grieve, too.  My dad was also very much his dad ("Pops"), and they were very close.  It was one of the greatest joys in my life, seeing my dad teach Mark how to love me better, and seeing them so eager and excited to spend time together.  My dad was so proud that I married Mark, and so proud to call him his son-in-law.  They are so much alike.  My dad would have loved it there.  He gradually became more "country" as the years went by.  I miss him so terribly much.

I am including the link for the Selah Ranch.  When you click on it, the picture on that page is of our room.  I am not kidding, I am totally suggesting that our friends come spend a long weekend with us there.  It is the perfect place for solitude, a family reunion, or any kind of retreat.  It is heaven on earth!  Especially in October, I bet!  They are still trying to decide if they will have the next retreat there or elsewhere.  I hope they keep it there because it was the perfect setting!

The awesome news is that the retreat is completely free for participants, which includes, meals, lodging, and everything included.  You just have to pay for your own transportation expenses.  They do a lot of fundraising to make sure each participant is able to attend without the financial burden they might normally bring with them.  So cool!

http://www.selahranch.com/room-promise.html