Once Upon A Time: Amazing

Once upon a time, in a land that now feels like a dream, I had the most amazing husband. He knew everything about me and he still loved me. He saw my short temper, he knew what combination of events could make me become emotional. He loved to watch cry movies with me. He respected my friendships. He loved my cats - even the one who hates everyone but me.

The love that we had was unparalleled. He got my twisted humor, he made me laugh, he took pictures with me, he acted serious and silly with me. He knew what to say to get me out of a funk. He was socially ideal, fitting into any social situation he was required to fit into. He thought I was great at everything I did and had no issue telling his friends and fellow officers as much. He was truly at a loss for words when I got dressed up. He would tell me, "Wow..... You look great - you always look great." When we went out, he would say, "Let's go make people jealous". It wan't because he was full of himself, he just believed we were that good together.

I was blessed.

Not many women get to feel that appreciated, that loved.

Because he knew me so well, he always knew what I needed and what I needed to hear. He said the most perfect things to me at the most perfect moments. He never judged me or made me feel like I wasn't good enough. He never made me feel like I was lacking in any way. He did things to make my life better, easier, so that we could spend more time together doing everything or nothing at all.

That is something that most men have not mastered, but Tim, he made me feel good about myself when others had made me feed bad about myself. He was one of those people that just made people around him feel good.

In my grief group, I learned that many widows idealize their husbands after they die. That never happened to me because I idealized my husband in life. I would often tell Tim that he was perfect. He would reply, "I'm not perfect - I'm just perfect for you."

I guess everyone has flaws. His only flaw was that he picked at his toenails. Really. That was it.

I like to think that I have not used my experience with Tim to set expectations, but I do know that above all else he showed me how he thought I deserved to be treated.

Happy 4th

In Tempe, every cop works the 4th of July. That's just how it is. Nobody questions it, but many wish they didn't have to be there. For good reason, too. The rest of us are uncomfortable in the heat, but we aren't standing in direct sun for 10 hours wearing layers of dark clothing, a bullet proof vest and pounds upon pounds of equipment.

Last year, Tim didn't work the 4th. He wasn't feeling well, but we got to spend dinner with my family. We got to be home with Kai to make sure he was okay with the fireworks. One more "last" that we didn't know would be our last. Two years ago, I was able to be at Tempe Town Lake sitting right next to where Tim was posted, watching fireworks "together".

All day today, I thought about all Tim's friends working and how happy I was that it was beautiful and overcast for them. A little blessing on a day they would surely rather be at home with their own families than out there making sure the rest of us are safe.

I thought about how we looked forward to the kids getting bigger and me taking them to the Tempe fireworks in a wagon so we could sit near Tim and "ooh" and "aah" together. How we would have been able to talk about how pretty it was the next day over breakfast. How he would have talked to whomever he was working with that night about our family.

I never took Tim's goodness for granted, but I took life for granted. I assumed there would be another day, another year, another memory, another opportunity. Love your husband. Kiss your kids. Every day you are making memories and none of us know what the future holds. Make each day count. Don't complain.

Who Your True Friends Are

"When times are tough, you find out who your true friends are." We have all heard that phrase. Often overused and sometimes told to us as children when we are have had a falling out with a friend.

A variation of this is brought up at nearly every meeting of my "Grief Group". People frequently mention that they are surprised about the people who have been there for them... and who has not. I understand this statement because I am walking that path.

I am not surprised about the close friends and family that have been here for me since Tim passed. I'm not "surprised", I am proud. Proud of them for being such a tremendous support and also proud of Tim & me for choosing such amazing friends to have in our lives. Something we had in common was intense loyalty - both of us have many friends we have had since childhood and early adulthood - we make our friendships a priority, and in return, when needed, our friends are there for us. Many of his friends have been there for me: a person they love only by association.

I remain (pleasantly) surprised when I get a call or an email from someone Tim worked with or knew casually just to check in and see how we are doing. It makes me happy to know that someone who wasn't super close to him would care enough and take the time to let me know that he is still on their mind. That they think about me and Brittany and the babies. That Tim has not faded from their memory.

Those he worked with closely (his "Squad") still invite me to parties and call and come to see the babies or meet me for lunch. They were his work family and I know that his absence leaves an empty place in the Department and in their hearts. They miss him, they grieve and they have constant reminders of him just like we all do.

I have fleeting memories of a conversation with one of Tim's friends - someone he knew his whole life. We were standing in our kitchen and I was crying. I told him I was afraid - one of the only times I have admitted that to anyone other than Tim. I shared with him that I was afraid of being alone. Not in the sense of not being married or being in the house by myself, but of being truly alone: when everyone else moves on with their lives and all of a sudden it's just me. Forever. He said something to the effect of, "The people who matter will still be here".

He was absolutely right. The people who care are still here. Even some who I was not close with before, I find myself closer to now. Apparently tragedy can sometimes help to grow friendships. And the others? Que sera, sera. I'm left with pleasant memories of when we were friends. And, yes, a vague feeling of disappointment that our friendship was not "true" enough to weather the "tough times". But I'm a big girl and I am fortunate to have the best people I could ask for in my life.

364 Un-Birthdays: A Birth Story (Part II)

...Continued from a previous post.
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I have had to take off my necklace which upsets me. I have worn Tim's wedding ring around my neck and have never removed it. I negotiate to be able to hold it the whole time. The chain is wrapped around my hand and his ring is around my finger.

They roll me the very short distance to the operating room. It is a lot smaller than I expected inside. They have 2 baby warmers waiting. I have already been cautioned about the number of people that will be in there, so I am not shocked. Had I not been warned, I probably would be - It seems like there are 14-16 people present. A surgical team, the anisthesiologist (Richard) and a team for each baby.

I am lifted on my sheet and placed on the operating table. It is a strange sensation because I can feel only some of my body. I suddenly realize my mom is not there but then a moment later she is on my left side holding my hand. She is wearing scrubs like the doctor. She looks cute - if only she didn't have a weak stomach maybe she would have been a doctor herself.

A blue paper drape is put up at about my chest level blocking my view so I can't see what is about to happen to my abdomen. Richard has connected me to more medicine that is running through my epidural. Someone is pinching me to make sure it is working. I don't feel a thing. They begin.

Suddenly I feel the cutting. It doesn't hurt, but I feel it and it scares me.
"Mom, talk to me. Talk to me!"
"What do you want to talk about?"
I couldn't answer - it would take too long. Instead I started singing the first thing that came to mind: Happy Birthday. Fitting, I suppose.

The doctor is pushing down on my stomach. Pressure. Then I feel pulling. A moment later, a cry. My first baby is held up above the drape for me to see a perfect, bloody, slimy little face. As they whisk the baby away, the nurse stops aside me so I can have another little look. Just like I wanted, my mom goes with the baby.

Suddenly, I realize that I didn't stop to think that her going with that babies means that I am alone.

I am crying. Crying because I have a beautiful baby, because I can't believe Tim isn't here with me, because my mom is not holding my hand and the pushing and tugging is starting again.

"Richard? Richard!"
Richard the anesthesiologist it looking down at me from under his big, bushy eyebrows.
"Richard, hold my hand!"

Poor Richard looks shocked like this is the first time this has happened to him. I'm okay with that because I'm not alone on this side of the drape anymore.

Another sweet, blood-covered little face pops over the drape for me to see. I am in love. My mom comes over to talk to me.

"They are beautiful!"
"What's their APGARs?"
"I don't know."
"Can you find out?"
...a moment later, "They are perfect."

Moments later both babies are brought over to me so that I can kiss their little faces before they are driven away in their baby warmers with my mom in tow. They are perfect. Perfect. Tim and I made perfect babies and I somehow held them in long enough for them to be big and healthy. (I would later learn that Ayla was 7lb 0oz and Anson was 7lb 1oz.) Now that I know they are okay, I am dozing off as they are stitching me up.

I hear them giving me a drug that is supposed to help slow my bleeding. I hear that I am bleeding a lot. I hear the word transfusion. I'm so tired that I am very unconcerned. I hear them giving me another drug that seems to do the trick - I'm fine and bleeding is under control. It takes awhile to stitch me up, so I fall asleep again.

They transfer me back onto a gurney - I decided I kind of like the strange sensation the movement gives.

I keep going in and out of sleep. In recovery I get to hold Ayla and Anson together for the first time. They are incredible. Anson looks like Tim. Ayla has red hair. They both have Tim's earlobes. I can't explain why this is one of the first things I notice. Maybe because I loved kissing his ears.

It feels like it is the middle of the night even though it is the afternoon. My dad comes in to meet them. I ask him to get Brittany - I want her to be the first to meet her little brother and sister. I stay awake while she is there, even though everything is blurry. It is a revolving door of family coming to greet the newest little members of our family. I am exhausted. I can't tell you if I am dressed, if I talked to anyone, what time it is. I just know that this is the best day of my life and I have finally met the two people I've known for the last 9 months. We did it together even though we are so far apart.

Teaser

I have been conspicuously absent the last several days.... It doesn't take many guesses to get to the bottom of the reason for my absence.

On Tuesday January 24th, I learned about a kind of love I had only dreamed about when our 2 anxious families welcomed our 2 beautiful and healthy children into the world.

It has only been 6 days, but I feel like I have loved these babies forever.

Ayla James Barber... 7lb 0oz

Anson Timothy Barber... 7lb 1oz

Anson on the left & Ayla on the right in a tribute to their incredible Daddy.

Stay tuned. A new adventure is just beginning.

Thankful 2011

Every year since I've been online, I have posted my thanks at Thanksgiving. Being grateful and expressing thanks is something that I believe strongly in and that I hope to instill in our children. All too often we tend to take things for granted and I think it is important to slow down and really think about how blessed we are.

This year I have watched a lot of people post something they are thankful for each day for the month of November.

Thankfulness has been really difficult for me this year for the first time in my life. Instead of being grateful, I just want to cry and scream "Fu*k you, cancer - give me my husband back!!!!" Yes, I can still smile. I have even genuinely laughed a few times, but life is less enjoyable, less colorful, less vibrant and seems less worthwhile without him. I lack motivation, focus, purpose, joy or even contentment.

From the day we met, I loved being "Tim & Autumn" and I may never adjust to being "just Autumn".

All that being said, I have thought long and hard about things I am thankful for. There are still many - some very bitter sweet, some too personal to share - and I will share only a few. This year I am thankful:

- That I have the greatest husband I've ever met and that he is the father of our babies, who I know will be better because he is a part of them. For every kiss, every long talk, every hope and dream we shared, every night falling asleep holding hands. Even knowing the heartache I am experiencing now, I would not trade a single day with Tim. He remains always and forever the love of my life.

- For my family, Tim's family and our incredible friends who have been like a net there to catch me when I fall. I know they would say it's "just what we do", but the list of people who have gone above and beyond in their support is long, and I am grateful.

- For the Department - Tim's brothers (and sisters) in blue who have held our family with the greatest love, care, honor and kindness. I know that they miss Tim every day like we do, and I know that they will make sure that we are always members of the Tempe family.

- That the babies and I will get to stay in the house Tim & I wanted to raise them in and that I know he is here with me every day sitting beside me and guiding me. For all the happy memories in the house and that I don't have to leave them behind.

- For a healthy pregnancy, the joy of feeling our babies moving around inside me, and the excitement I feel to meet them and kiss their sweet faces. This is not how I imagined pregnancy would be - I imagined Tim and I laying in bed together watching my tummy shift - but I know Anson & Ayla's well-being has forced me to deal with losing Tim in a healthy way.

- For Tim's medical team. Although this did not turn out the way we expected or hoped, I know his Drs fought for him, respected him and cared for him. Their staffs were our friends we saw every day who did so much for Tim, me and our family. The nursing staff of Scottsdale Shea C-3 are angels who helped him fight and when it was time, helped him rest. I am forever grateful.

- For the community that I know and those I don't know who have helped me in so many ways - their words of comfort, prayers, donations and assistance are what has gotten me through this far. I have a long road ahead, but I think of how blessed we have been every day.

Family, Friends & Brotherhood

I do not usually use this venue to talk about Tim's health. Yes, there may be a mention here and there as it's hard to avoid mentioning something that plays such a sometimes large role in our lives, but it's not a focus - we have CaringBridge for that. Instead I choose to focus on our lives together as a whole. I choose to try and write and share our story without giving the Stupid Effing Cancer the attention it wants.

Today I'm going to talk about it a little bit. More than a mention in passing, but not enough to let it "win" this day.

This morning, my beautiful step daughter, her boyfriend, my sister in law, Tim's cousin and her daughter, and my in-laws all hiked 7 miles in Flagstaff in the Climb to Conquer Cancer. That's the kind of attention I like - the kind that only serves to beat the cancer down. To degrade it and show it who's boss. The days when our family stands on top of the mountain victorious all for Tim.

We both have great family. We have surrounded ourselves with amazing life long friends. We have a support system that can't be beat. And we have "the brotherhood" - a force to be reckoned with. What is the brotherhood? It's something that I didn't used to know about. Something I that maybe I heard about on TV. It's something that happens when a bunch of people do push-ups together, develop deep bonds, fight crime and have each other's backs no matter what.  It's not a myth - it's very real in the thoughts and actions of a Department that loves my husband unconditionally. It's a kind of unconditional love that I have witnessed repeatedly and I know exists. It is like another family.

These men and women - these friends, these "Brothers" and "Sisters" - have watched Tim and I struggling these last few months and have jumped to our aid. They have run our errands, cut our yard, sprayed for crickets, they have sent cards and emails expressing their support, visited, laughed and brought care packages. They have loved us in a time when we have most needed it in every way.

Thursday, that love is being taken to a whole new level. They have worked tirelessly to put together a benefit BBQ to help Tim and me with some of the daily financial struggles that Cancer has brought us. If you are free, we would love to see you. Come and let those sworn to protect and serve you 'serve' you a burger. These are some of the most loving and selfless people you will ever get the chance to meet.

Click HERE to see the full sized flyer....