What’s In A Name

I went back and forth on the title of this post. I’ve worked on it since Monday. I know this title is pretty raw. I alternated versions to try and soften it. In the end, I determined I wasn’t changing it. The truth is, the hardest thing I’ve ever done is bury my oldest daughter Makenzie in 2015 when she was only 22 years old. The second hardest thing I do is letting Brennan, my now 19 year old son, and Kinley, Makenzie’s now five year old daughter, live. As this is my blog about my life, experiences, and how those things have shaped me into who I am, I will remain true to myself. I will share my thoughts as they are. In my own voice, I will share myself, and how I handle raising my remaining children after the loss of my oldest child.

Prior to this blog, I shared all my thoughts on Facebook. Those thoughts were often lengthy, but, believe it or not, they were not always complete. Then, you saw the most “simplified” version. Now, given the ability, I will do a better job of sharing my complete thoughts without sacrificing any of what I’m really thinking.

Let Me Explain

I often find analogies helpful when sharing my thinking. Perhaps the best analogy is one I shared when Kinley had a “routine” surgery scheduled. I was very nervous even though both Makenzie and Brennan had the same procedure in their youth. I was still scared.

Imagine we are all given eyeglasses with clear lenses at birth, and every life experience is assigned a shade of color ranging from almost transparent to black. It is possible many will have the same level of shade or tint in the end. However, we may not all achieve our level of tint at the same pace or the same stages of our lives. That said, the level of tint on the glasses I look through is different. It was a much different shade than I had looked through when Makenzie and Brennan had the same routine surgery.

This happens frequently at this point in life. I worry about experiences Brennan and Kinley have more than I did prior to losing Makenzie. When we lost her, everything I thought I knew changed. Every decision I make is colored by her loss.

Raising My Remaining Children

I am learning to acknowledge the shade of my glasses. At least, I try to be aware of it and be fair in the choices I make for Brennan and Kinley. They need to have their own experiences. They need to live, just as Makenzie lived. It is very difficult for me. When Brennan turned 16 and wanted to get his driver’s license, I was terrified. I knew Brennan was a good driver. He would pass easily. However, I worried over every possible worst-case scenario. I was worried something would happen to him. I was worried I would lose him. The same thinking occurred when Brennan discussed joining the armed service; when he drove to Myrtle Beach himself; every time he leaves home. The same is true with Kinley. I worry when she is not with me. What if something happens to her?

I worry I would not survive the loss of another child. Thus, I over-worry about what could happen to Brennan or Kinley. Now, almost five years post the loss of Makenzie, I am better at separating my thinking. Brennan got his license. He drove himself and a friend to Myrtle Beach. He has not, yet, joined the service, though that has been his choice. I make a conscious effort to be open in sharing my concerns and the why of those concerns with Brennan when these things arise. Likewise, Brennan makes a conscious effort to let me know he understands my concerns and why they exist. We communicate, and it makes a huge difference. Yes, there are frustrations. Yes, we have disagreed. But, we have talked. We understand one another, and most importantly, we are open in our discussions.

Where We Are Now

I cannot tell you I will stop looking through my shaded lenses. I can tell you becoming aware of what I was doing has helped tremendously. It has helped our family. We talk about Makenzie. Open discussions about her life and choices allow Brennan and I to rationally discuss whatever experience he is seeking at the time I panic. Keeping Makenzie in our discussions has allowed for Kinley to have some level of knowing her. We found our path. Now, our path is flexible. We are all aware there is more to come. Fortunately, we talk about it.

What I learned is you cannot stop living. Take your time and grieve; move through it at your own pace in the way that works best for you. There is no right or wrong. I am learning to let Brennan and Kinley live. They need to have the same freedom to experience life that Makenzie did. I need to let them. That doesn’t mean I don’t worry. As a parent, I worry. I guide them as best I can. I don’t limit their opportunities or helicopter-parent. Hummingbird parenting is more my style from current labels. Learning to accept the fear without hindering their ability to develop and experience life is difficult. In fact, it’s the second most difficult thing I’ve ever done.

This is my second chance at parenting. I am raising my remaining children after the loss of my oldest child. Kinley is exactly like her mother was so I am truly living a second chance in raising her. Brennan helps me keep it balanced. What parenting second chance have you experienced? I’d love to hear about it. You can contact me here!

If you would like to find out which current parenting-type label applies to you, check out this article from Motherly.