Party of Three....

Celebrating the day of both Hayden and Carly and Weston and Kris.......love and miss you Janet!   

   Today is a day of celebration and ceremony for two special couples in our life.  The planning, primping, gathering, and an occasional groan( I'm guessing) will come to fruition and at the end of the day two new families will find their little place in this great big world.  

       I love weddings--spent a majority of my 20's singing for (those desperate) couples needing a wedding singer. One time a number of years ago I counted the weddings I had been honored to be involved in as a musician and it was pushing 90....It's been fun to see how music and ceremonies have evolved over the years and it is safe to say just about anything goes in today's world of weddings.  I love this.

     Our spring mail is combination of graduations announcements, wedding invites, and "Save the Dates"....the beautiful pictures, invitation designs, and instructions how and where to respond to these wonderful events are welcomed mail.We truly love hearing from former students/athletes and being included in these events is a blessing.   Now, to be perfectly honest, it also becomes a bit overwhelming---one of my famous moves was pulling up to an empty McIntosh, SD gymnasium in 2010 to attend a graduation that had occurred the previous day. (Sorry Courtney!) RSVP cards and web-based invites are not always tended to as promptly as they should be.   Yes, I'm that girl. I'm not proud--just honest. Organizing the dates, receptions, in amidst our summer sports schedules often finds me a bit confused..some may say "clueless"!  

     I read something on the internet the other day that hit home with me.  It was a teenage girl talking about the fact that now that her brother had died, did she still say she had a brother?  I connected instantly.  I have had people ask how many children I have and I always say two. I remember someone asking me this soon after Tate died.  Scott was with me and his eyes darted over to me and I responded, "I have two boys."    This is not a lie. I am the mother of two boys, it's just that one doesn't live with me anymore.  Questions like this and those little RSVP cards asking how many will be attending are a gut-punching reminder that we are now a party of three.  

     I remember signing that first card after Tate died.  Instead my usual "Love, Mark, Lynn, Tate, and Scott" and sat there paralyzed and finally scribbled "The Senftners". It was like I was trying to trick myself into thinking that if I didn't  write our names individually, it would make Tate's absence less apparent.  Nice try, Lynn. 

     I knew today would come.  And by today, I mean a day that Tate's absence will be magnified for me.  He is missed every single day, but there are days the loss seems a bit bigger, the empty chair a bit more obvious, and the memory of his smile and laugh more unbearable.  These days can be holidays or the most mundane events, but they sneak up on me and grab a hold of that empty spot in my heart.   Today is not one of those days.  It has been ever present on my mind since Hayden and Carly announced their wedding day.  

     We moved to Onida ten years ago this summer, but the friendship began that April day when we came for Mark's interview.   Hayden, Tate and Scott spent the morning playing basketball and the rest as they say, is history.  A history of love, companionship, an occasional fight,hours of travels for sports (and trips north to visit girlfriends), practices, laughter, sarcasm, homework, and texts that spanned the all too short eight year friendship.  Tate was instantly accepted by Hayden's posse of friends and the circle grew--wonderful, spirited young men and women, who made Tate's life rich and wonderful and crazy.  Together they enjoyed sports seasons, Alfredo Fridays, Grandma Alice's pudding and Cool Whip, road trips, the pontoon, Thursday's chicken fried steak at Kroeplin, movies, Sunday afternoon football games, visits with Grandpa Ben,  and  strings of texts messages that I know brought smiles and much laughter (woven in among the inappropriate language and comments I am sure those group messages included. )  Tate and Hayden gave speeches together, danced in pep rallies in ballerina costumes, spent hours on the field together running routes and catching and throwing passes, and were easily each other's best audience.  There were tough times too--the pace of life and changes with relationships brought tension, but there always seemed to be that bond.  Like any relationship over a period of time, it had a few bumps, but it was solid....and a part of who they were.  

     In a few hours, Hayden will walk down the aisle to marry the girl of his dreams.  They have begun to create an neat little life here in Onida and we are thankful we get to watch their dreams come true and watch their daughter Taytum (Tate's little namesake) grow into a beautiful young lady.  And we are honored to be sharing in part of the ceremony as host and hostess.....We have been setting up for the reception and battling the wind, heat and tulle, and deep in my heart I am happy for this day.  Seeing Tate's friends enjoying each other's company last night at rehearsal was a combination of joy and sadness--like many things are since his death.  I know they have not been together for quite awhile and this time is a precious commodity.  Soon job obligations, children, and miles will part these amazing friends and a night like last evening will be a treasured memory.  I will not lie--it is difficult to see these wonderful humans. Their hugs and smiles and keeping in touch with us mean the world to our family, for as all parents know, your kids' friends are a big part of your life too.  I will shed some tears today for everything Tate is missing--I do not mean for it to damper the joy this day will bring for them, but just because we know this wedding would have also brought Tate joy.  He loved Hayden and would want him to be happy. And he is....:)   We know Tate should be here too--laughing, toasting, poking fun, dancing (well, he was his father's son, so maybe not dancing) and celebrating this weekend with Hayden and Carly.  But he is not....

     And the reality is that we are now a party of three.  

  

Happy Birthday Tate

     Twenty three years ago this evening, I was preparing to become a mother.  I was almost 10 months pregnant (seriously....Tate's due date had originally been set for March 10th) and had been donning the same three outfits for the past month. (Carefully selected Target stretch pants with coordinating tops.  They matched the black high top Reebok aerobic shoes I wore each day...I smirk as I write this just thinking about those six items of clothing.  I definitely got my money's worth and I wonder if my fifth graders had secretly been placing wagers on what combination I would appear in each morning.) Ever prepared,  I had gathered a month of sub plans  because like every first time mom, my baby was going to come exactly when they said it would and I would be back in four weeks.  If I had only known....
     Mark and I went out for supper in Winner and stopped by my parent's house to check in with them. I explained how  Dr. Malm said if the baby didn't come this evening, he would see me at 7:00 AM and they would begin the process of inducing labor.  I remember looks of concern and worry and numerous requests that we call them right away.  My dad was in his own battle with cancer, weak, frail, but excited for his new role as grandpa;  and my mom was an exhausted,worried caregiver for Dad. But I was too wrapped up in my forever pregnancy to truly notice how much stress she was under.  She hid it well, but her mom instincts were keen and she was worried about her first born.   If I had only known... 
     I could write about the 14 hour day we spent bringing Tate into the world, the induction that wasn't working, the forever pushing, the scared feeling when Tate's heart rate  dropped as we worked to bring him into the world, the tears when they told us things were not going well and how they rushed me to the operating room to skillfully perform an emergency C-section, but this post isn't about that. None of the previous nine months, years of babysitting, eight years of teaching swimming lessons to hundreds of kids, and the five previous years of students had prepared me for what was about to happen.  I THOUGHT I knew what was going to happen when this amazing gift was placed in my arms. I mean, I knew kids.  Kids and I were a "thing".  I understood kids....they were my life, my profession. I knew what being a mom was all about.   If I had only known....
     Tate Benjamin Senftner arrived at 7:47 pm on Wednesday, April 1st, 1992.  He was 9 pounds, 4.5 ounces, and 22 inches long.  He had brown hair, big, dark eyes that would soon turn a light shade of blue, and a long torso. I remember everything about the moment.   Dr. Malm hollered out, "It's a boy!" and my world was forever changed.   They rushed him for needed medical attention, and soon he was brought over to me so I could see him as they finished up with whatever they do after C-section....I couldn't wait to hold him and the excitement had erased any pain that accompanied his arrival.  The love that filled my heart is explainable. If I had only known.....
     If I had only known the sheer terror of watching him attempt to ride a bike without training wheels, or dropping him off at day care for the very first time and sobbing all the way to school because he had been crying and scared in new surroundings. The midnight trip(s) to the hospital with a 102 degree fever that turned into a three day hospital stay(s)...If I had only known how vastly my life would change from thinking about what I wanted or needed versus his needs.  How every decision you now made was based on what was best for him. If I had only known the joy I would feel when he smiled for the first time, the first steps, the infamous "Goat" laugh that he shared when he was excited.  Those middle of the night feedings, the exhaustion and tears as I doubted my abilities as his mother, the "Mama Bear" moments when I wanted to step in and fix things, the conferences where we listened to his talents, shortcomings, and concerns, the hours we spent following him around country as he pursued his love of athletics and competing.  The makeshift hoops made from laundry baskets, retrieving the ball from the tee as he swung that big plastic Little Tykes bat for hours, the football games played in the lot behind our house, the broken windows, lamps, picture frames, and shoelaces as he was always playing some type of game with a ball....The endless rewinding of the Barney VHS tape, reading his favorite "Arthur" books, and playing the Jock Jams CD in the car over an over again because he "loved" it. The early morning calls he would make to KWYR  radio station in Winner  where he would ask  his friend "Steve" (or "Teve" as he called him) to play "Little Bitty"...and "Teve" would always oblige. The difficult conversations about life,death, religion,finances,  relationships, and moving...If I had only known how much all these moments, and a million others, would forever change and define my life. I had no idea twenty three years ago what an adventure  I was embarking upon as I set my alarm clock for 6:00 AM so I could shower and look "good" for my delivery....(ha!)    No idea. The love, joy, frustration, fear, impatience, pride, exhaustion  (did I say love?)  that you experience as a parent, eludes explanation.   I just don't believe there is any way to prepare someone for the gift God gives us when He blesses us with children.  
     And as I sit here reflecting this evening about tomorrow's date, I know there is no way to prepare someone for the experience of losing those precious gifts.  God Bless You Tate Benjamin on your heavenly birthday....you are loved and missed more than you could ever imagine. If I had only known......
   

www.facebook.com/lynn.senftnerSunday, September 7,2014

Today was Sophia's baptismal day. Her day to shine in God's love and blessings of a parish enjoying this holy rite as a child of God. Where Sophia's parents, Godparents, relatives, and the congregation promise to help raise Sophia in God's amazing grace and pray for her as she journeys through life. And even though it was Sophia's day,  my first post will be about her older sister Lucy, a beautiful, headstrong, bundle of joy.  She has a lovely shade of auburn hair and a lovely smile to match those locks. Lucy was not as thrilled about Sophia's special day, in fact, she was downright mad.  

Scott noticed the baptismal font was set up and softly whispered to me that there must be a baptism today.  I immediately felt a soft pang in my heart. I think most mothers have the special days in their children's lives etched in their hearts.  Scott again whispered and asked me where he was baptized.  I responded, telling him he was baptized in McLaughlin, at his dad's home church.  I didn't continue on with the rest of the story.  How his baptism took place on a Thursday afternoon, in a harsh winter storm, with eight of us standing around the baptismal font.  How he was not an infant, but had just turned two, and that we chose to have him baptized in McLaughlin because Msgr, O'Connell had baptized Tate and we wanted him to also do Scott's rites.  How we had to wait until Tom and Kari were back for Christmas so they could be his Godparents....It was not the traditional scene we were witnessing, but it was what we had chosen for him.  Then the tears that find me each time I attend Mass started to well up in my tired eyes.  I've been tired for what seems like a very long time, yet it seems like just yesterday that our lives were so drastically altered.

You see, Sophia's baptism day was the same weekend that Tate had been baptized.  The first weekend in September.  Msgr. O'Connell did a Children's Mass the first weekend of every month and he asked if he could use Tate's baptism as the homily.  We agreed and gathered family and friends to our home in Gregory for the beginning of Tate's faith journey.  It was a beautiful day in so many ways.  We had our parents there and Tate's Godparents, Brad and Shelley.  Msgr. gathered all the children up front and spoke to them about their baptisms.  We were honored to have Tate part of his message....and Tate cooperated.  He smiled and slept through the Mass.  It was a blessed day for us as a new family.

I spent the time during the readings trying to block the memories of that wonderful day 22 years ago.  The tears have kept me from attending Mass many times over the past year and a half.  I often attend Mass in neighboring towns--the tears still flow, but the people there don't know me.  As I blinked back tears, Father starts Sophia's baptism.  And Lucy, well, she joins me....in tears.  Loud, whaling cries as her mom is busy with Sophia.  The cries started softly and soon she was competing with Fr. Kopel.  And she was winning....A lovely lady, who I assumed was her grandma, quietly took Lucy to the back of the church.  I whispered to Scott that I think I should go back and see if Lucy will come with me so her grandma doesn't miss the ceremony.  Scott looks at me and tells me to just go ahead.  He has had to play the role of sounding board these past 19 months and I know it has been a confusing mess for him.  Why should he have to assure his mother that it was probably alright to go back and see if they needed some help?  In the past, I would have just gotten up and done this without a second thought.  But when you lose a child to suicide, you question every decision--even the simplest ones.  You lose every ounce of confidence in your abilities as a parent.   I slipped out quietly and headed back to where Lucy and her grandma were waiting out the storm. 

 One of the many joys of  living in South Dakota and communities like ours, is that there are no real strangers, but Lucy is not familiar with me,so this could go nowhere fast. I envision a loud scream and me making the situation worse, but I head towards her. I softly ask Grandma if I could help with Lucy so she can go enjoy the baptism. She takes me up on the offer, and soon I am holding a darling little girl who is still a bit ticked off about the whole morning.  

Lucy and I look out the door's frosted window.  She carefully checks me out and I carefully keep her out of sight of her beloved mommy.  We chase a small fly on the window with her hand.  She starts to smile and is intent on not just chasing the fly, but actually killing the poor little guy.  Fingerprints decorate the glass pane and the small fly manages to avoid her slaps and pokes.  This soon becomes boring and she points to the wooden counter in back of the church.  I take her over and she sits happily.  The counter is tall and we are eye to eye.  Her little feet swing back and forth and she pulls her new dress up to wipe her nose.  All is good in Lucy's world now.  She has my full attention and seems to sense she is calling the shots.  :)  Behind the counter are multiple rows of pamphlets for parishioners offering advice on situations and events.  They are just so tempting for a toddler.  I've actually never noticed them--I've SEEN them, but never actually noticed what filled the space above the counter.  Lucy begins her descent on the pamphlets with two hands.  Grabbing and pulling them out one by one.  The first few drop on the counter then she hands me one. ( I have been so intent on making sure she was quiet and sitting carefully on the counter, that I do not notice the pamphlets she chose to dismantle first.)  I looked down at the colorful card and my heart stopped.  The title was "Moving On After the Suicide of a Child" or something like that.  There are literally about 20 different titles and my new friend Lucy had handed me this one?  I continued to let her grab and sort and drop and dig while I cried a few more tears.  I pick her up and she allows me to hug her and rock her a little bit.   All too soon, her mom Lacey comes back to take my new friend back to her family.  She thanks me for helping them out and I tell her it was no problem.  That it was not a problem at all...it was a blessing.

What I wasn't able to tell Lacey, was that I haven't been able to hold a baby since Tate died.  I have all these amazing friends who are becoming grandparents over the past year and I have yet to jump in and hold these precious miracles.One of Tate's dearest friends has a beautiful baby girl that is named after him, and while I gladly attended the shower, I was paralyzed with grief to ask to hold her.   I am just so afraid that I will burst into tears---a combination of joy, jealousy, remembrance of days spent with my boys as infants, and sadness that we will never share in the joy of Tate's grandchildren. I hope my friends understand this, but I am sure some wonder if I'm really that uncaring.  I'm not.  I'm healing...in my own way and in my own time.  

 For some reason, God led me to Lucy this morning.  I was in "helping" mode and she allowed me to hold her and begin to grab that part of my life back.  I like to think that her little hands were guided by God to the "suicide" pamphlet.  That He was working through Lucy to tell me that He's keeping watch over me.   For some reason God called me to church this morning....He allowed me to reflect on Tate's (and Sophia's) baptismal day, and led me to my dear, new friend, Lucy.