What it's like

I found this on a site and is another grieving mom's feelings on losing a child and how to help.  I have to say every single word of this touched me.  I want to get through this and be normal just as bad as everyone else wants me to and I am trying.  But, people need to know some details of the depth of this loss and how hard it is before getting to that next place in the grief.  So I had to share..............................................................................

First of all, losing a child is like nothing you have ever experienced. Although you may have lost other close friends or family members, there is no comparison. I have found that the grief of friends who have lost a spouse at a young age is similar in many ways, yet different.  So please try not to make comparisons with what you have experienced, unless, of course, you have also lost a child. And also avoid comparisons with "close calls" you or someone else has had.This is still quite a different thing.  Most people are at a loss about what they should say. And so they choose to stay silent and avoid the situation. But there are things you can say that can be very helpful. A friend who had also lost her daughter told me, "I just never knew I would think about it every minute. I never knew it would affect every bit of my life." The intensity of the grief catches us by surprise, even those of us who are going through it. So it is no wonder that when someone is grieving she thinks, feels, and acts differently than ever before, at times doing things that seem completely illogical and even abnormal.  Try to avoid the trap of comparing what you think you would do in that situation with what your grieving friends are doing because their grief is affecting every bit of their life. That is why grieving people draw close to others who are grieving - it's the only time they feel "normal".

For many women, after losing a baby, it takes 18 - 24 months before they work through their grief enough to get back to a somewhat "normal" life. For men it often takes 3 - 6 months for this to occur. That is not to say they are "over it" by then, but just that they no longer think about it every minute.

That's right, for most of the first year, a bereaved mom is thinking about her child just about all the time - certainly at least several times a day!  Unfortunately, in Western society, most people think a few weeks is how long this sort of grief lasts. And so, after that time, they don't mention the child's name (or worse, avoid the entire subject) for fear of "reminding" them. This actually hurts MORE because the grieving mom feels that she is the only one who remembers her child since no one mentions her.  And, because no one mentions her, she also hesitates to bring her up because everyone seems uncomfortable about it. The very thing the bereaved mom most needs: to talk and talk and talk about her child - is the thing we take away from her with our silence! No wonder the grieving seek each other out.  Yes, you mentioning her child's name will probably bring tears to her eyes, especially during the first year. But they are GOOD tears - tears of gratefulness that you care about her baby enough to mention him or her.  Which brings me to my next point: if your friend feels that she can cry with you, you are doing the biggest service you possibly can for her. If you don't look away, or change the subject, or act uncomfortable, you will help her heal by being with you. Help her to mourn by mourning with her.  The emotions of grief are not all sadness. There is usually a lot of anger at one point or another. There is often anxiety, irritability,inability to cope, and often there is an anti-social period. And there is so much up and down, feeling like a yo-yo jumping between feeling OK and the pit. The grieving mom doesn't even know how she will feel from one moment to the next. There is much confusion, and fear that she will never feel happy or normal again.  If you can be there, willing to listen to whatever emotions she has, without judgment, you will be giving a huge gift as well. This takes time and energy. The anger, guilt, and other emotions are very real. Don't tell her "you shouldn't feel that way". She feels the way she feels. Help her to work through the emotions. And don't be shocked if she talks of wanting to die. This is very common, and it will help her if she can confide in you without fear.

What to say to a grieving friend

And realize that these changes are not permanent for your friend; they are grief. She will come out of it a different person in many ways - hopefully better - but also in many ways she will become herself again someday. God bless you if you have the patience to wait and to help her get there.  Although nothing magical happens after the first year - she won't miraculously get a lot better - it is true that the first year is very hard. EVERYTHING is the first time without her child. Every holiday, large or small, is very difficult because holidays are family times and an important member of her family is missing.  Remember her at each holiday - acknowledge her loss and that it is likely to be a difficult time. Ask her what she is planning to do to "get through it" (which becomes the grieving person's goal for most events the first year). Don't be afraid to ask - remember, you're not reminding her, you're remembering her child.  As you might imagine, Mother's Day is especially hard. Send a card acknowledging her motherhood, especially if this is her only child, and just let her know you are thinking of her and that you remember her child.  For quite a while during the first year, grieving moms experience weekiversaries and monthiversaries. That is, they often feel increased grief, irritability, and pain on the day of the week their baby died and on the day of the month. Their subconscious begins to relive the experience each week and each month. Be sensitive to this and offer extra support at those times. The intensity of this experience usually lessens by the end of the first year, when the anniversary becomes most significant.

Make a note on your calendar of her child's birthday, date of death, and due date if the baby was born quite early. Those days will all be very difficult, and a simple I'm Thinking of You card at those times will provide much healing. Realize that even years later, after she has apparently "healed", she will be thinking of her child on those dates, reliving the experience and the sadness. Knowing that someone else still remembers her child years later will bring her much peace and comfort.  Also realize that any sort of event or gathering may be very difficult for a grieving person. One of the steps of healing is spending a lot of time focusing on the child who has been lost. This needs to happen every day, and at first, takes up most of the day.As healing occurs, the time she will need to "be with" her child becomes less and less. But we can't rush this or force it. And often, attending social gatherings is just too hard. After a few minutes, the grieving mom is ready to focus on her child again, and she can't. So she either stays and is miserable and then falls apart totally afterwards, or she leaves and does what she really needs to do.  It takes a long time for most grieving people to trust their own instincts about what they need to do (after all, someone is always telling them, "come on, you should go, it'll be good for you.") You can help your friend by encouraging her to listen to her instincts and to follow them. Often you can help her by asking, "What do you want to do?" Listen as she sorts out her feelings, and support whatever she decides. And finally, point out the progress she has made, no matter how small.

What it is like seeing healthy babies being born: The Circus

Baby showers, pregnant women,newborns, even weddings are just devastating for moms who have lost babies. Seeing others' joy is in such contrast to their pain. Be sensitive to that - and it lasts much longer than people realize.  I hope that by reading this, and some of the links from this page, you will feel better equipped to help support your grieving friend. May God bless you for your friendship in this difficult time.

My Birthday

It was my birthday and we decided to go to Disneyland for the day since it is most likely going to be a good day if you are at the happiest place on earth right?  It started out pretty good.  Kind of felt like life before disaster struck for a few hours at least.  Not that I didn’t think about Logan every minute of those few hours.  He never leaves my mind.  My mind is always on double task because I am living my life and every interaction, conversation, etc with people he is always right there.  I see his face, smell the hospital, see his little hand, everything.

I was standing by a fountain waiting for my husband and a family was taking pictures of their three kids in front of it.  I heard them say, “Logan, move over a little to the right”.  And it begins…..I knew it would happen but a little surprised that it was so soon.  Then more and more Logan connections happened throughout the day.  I was wondering, “Ok, is this because his name is so popular?  Or is it because he is really around and it’s a sign?  It doesn’t even matter why but it immediately put me in the sad place. I have learned that when that happens I have to feel it out until is passes.  That’s the only way for me to get through it.  No fighting it.  It doesn’t help when people tell me not to be sad.  It won’t work, sorry if you wanted it to.  I just felt like he should be with us today and chillin in his stroller smiling at the people walking by with his cute little baby eyes looking around.

Everyone says to have a happy birthday.  But I have to say it is really strange, confusing, and uncomfortable to be celebrating my birthday and trying to be happy when my son is dead and didn’t even get to celebrate his.  I feel a little guilty.  I am just to the point now, sometimes I just tell people what they want to hear.  It was a good day and leave it at that.  But, honestly it was very disturbing and unsettling.  Hopefully next year it will be better but I am not counting on it.  I don’t want to have expectations and be let down.  I wish people would understand that the sadness and grief doesn’t go away.  It will soften, but it never goes away so please don’t expect it to.  

I am really glad the day is over actually.  It's like a build up of exhausting emotions.  I have his first birthday coming up soon so all of this stuff is on my mind ten fold.  I just want to get through it............

My Story

Today has been nine months since my son died.  I realized I hadn't shared my story yet so here it is......

I was admitted to hospital at 24 weeks from Pregnancy Induced Hypertension (PIH) and Intrauterine Growth Restriction (IUGR) straight from a doctor’s appointment to monitor my blood pressure.  There weren’t any rooms for me so I waited in this tiny little room with a tiny little TV watching the cooking channel.  I thought I was going to explode from anxiety.  The nurses are the only positive part of this disaster.  The ones there that night were SO sweet and made me feel a little less scared.  Once they found a room for me they placed me with another girl who spoke not an ounce of English.  Poor girl had to basically hear me cry ALL night long.  I thought I was going to be sent home but we found out through blood tests that my liver enzymes were elevated.  I was told at that point that I was being admitted and wasn’t going anywhere.  They put me on bed rest and told me if the liver keeps going that way, they will have to take my baby and he won’t make it.  The next day they moved me to my own room since I was going to be an extended stay, I’m sure my neighbor was happy because she wouldn’t have to hear “crying lady next door” anymore. As the days went on, my liver improved and stabilized, however my blood pressure took a bit longer.   I was on several medications to help with the blood flow to the baby as I was told it was the last resort to get the nutrients through to him as he kept falling further and further behind the growing scale. I tried to eat lots of protein, I drank protein shakes at night after dinner to try to help my little guy.  I felt him moving a lot (or what I thought was a lot) so it seemed like he was getting something otherwise he wouldn’t be moving much at all right?  The nurses would even kind of giggle at how much he didn’t like the Doppler and would move lots to try to avoid it.  He had a strong heartbeat and seemed to be doing great, it was just a waiting game.  They started me on a couple rounds of steroid shots for Logan’s lungs knowing that he would be a preemie, his lungs would need that boost in hopes they would be working when he got out.

After about three weeks his heart rate kept taking random dips on the monitor.  Of course that freaked everyone out.  I would try to move to get him back and they gave me lots of oxygen to help.  It worked the first few days, then more dips started to happen.

I ended up having an emergency C Section at 27 weeks and 4 days after finding reverse flow in his brain by an ultrasound, doctors thought he would have a better chance on the outside at that point.  Two hours after my ultrasound finding this, I was in surgery having my son.  He was born at 1 pound and 1 ounce 10 ½ inches long.  I have never seen a baby that small in my life so I really wasn’t prepared for what was to come.  I knew was I wanted him to have a chance at life and I did not want him to die inside of me, but at the same time I know that every day he is inside of me matters.

He did really well on his first day of life, breathing was good (they were actually amazed how good it was for such a little guy) so they took the breathing tube out.  We went and saw him, couldn’t hold him but watched him moving about and even making a fist like he was fighting.  I heard his soft little cry.  Saw his fingers and toes, looked just like his daddies.  He had my nose and ears.  Even though he was jaundiced, discolored, and very bruised he looked perfect.  They mentioned blood transfusions and a bone marrow transplant were in the future so I was signing papers saying go for it.  I knew that it could be a honeymoon phase but they were all so excited I thought maybe he will be that miracle that survives this.  They day after he was born, we had family visiting in our room and a nurse called us into the NICU.   My husband wheeled me in, there were tons of nurses around him and tons of alarms going off.  I knew something was not good.  The doctor came over and told us he was having a brain hemorrhage and coding so it was time.  Before we knew it we were holding our son without any tubes on him basically waiting for him to die peacefully in our arms as we talked to him and kissed his face.  My son even responded to my husband talking to him by blinking his eyes and staring at him while he was talking.  So emotional!  The doctor kept checking his heartbeat periodically and told us she would let us know once he was gone.  It was absolutely the worst nightmare but it was our reality.  We called family and went back to my room where we told everyone that he just passed away.  The shock set in and my world completely changed that day.  

Irritating Comments

So this weekend we got to get away and spend some time with family.  It felt nice and a little bit normal.  Most of these people I haven’t seen since Logan’s funeral.  So, at first there is the awkward initial greeting.  Then it just gets into a regular bbq, lots of good food, drinks, music, etc.  I did good and didn’t break down which was awesome for once!  I was happy  that a few people brought him up and mentioned his name because that happens so rarely.  I am thankful for that.  Here is the part that irritated me ………

I was talking to another  family member who also lost a baby many years ago to SIDS and was inquiring about her struggles and how she handled the situation.  She mentioned she had anger and got into some troubled times shortly thereafter.  I went into some feelings of anger that I have recently felt and shared that with them (which is totally normal when grieving mind you)  and another family member proceeded to tell me how I should feel lucky that God picked me and I am a chosen one and a bunch of other stuff after that, but I stopped listening.  I kept thinking how can I stop this conversation that is starting to irritate me?  I am talking about feelings of anger I have been having because my son died way to soon, and you are now telling me that I am lucky?  That just doesn’t sit well with me.  I always want to turn it around and say, would you feel lucky if your child died?  How lucky would you be if you got to experience this whole traumatic disaster?  I bet you would feel just awesome and grreeeeeeaaat!  I don’t feel lucky, it doesn’t feel good, and it doesn’t make it feel any better not even one bit if you tell me that I am lucky, thanks for trying.  Of course I didn’t say any of that, I just spaced out for awhile and started thinking about something else because I didn’t even want to go there or start crying.   I just don’t want to hear comments like that.  Everyone has their own belief and I get that it’s totally fine.  But step away for a minute and think if it was you.  The word “lucky” shouldn’t even be used in the same sentence as the death of my son.  Period.

Losing a Child

I read this article on one of my fellow bereaved mom pages and thought I would share.  It helps people understand what we go through, highlights the uncomfortable parts of our grieving process,  and makes me feel like I am not alone.


http://missinglarry.com/2012/05/30/for-those-of-you-who-believe-you-could-lose-your-child-tomorrow-and-still-be-who-you-are-today-2/

Heavy Heart

It's Friday night. While most people are out having fun, I am at home looking at creamation jewelry websites, reading bereaved mom blogs, rubbing my still sore stomach from the surgery and just plain being irritated and mad. To catch up, I got through Mother's Day (it was awful-but not sure how it was supposed to be good?). Today Logan would have been seven months old and tomorrow is seven months since he died. I just feel sad. I picture a seven month old baby and think how big he would be and who he would look like now. Every month at this time my heart feels heavy, my body aches, and sadness overwhelms me. No one in my family was able to meet him so it even feels more unreal. Sometimes I have to remind myself that his life was real and I didn't make it up, he was really here and he was alive. I'm so tired of the grief work and just irritated that it is for a lifetime! Just when I feel like I am starting to feel better a huge wave comes at me again and I go straight through it like always. I know I have to let it flow, accept my mood swings and try to stay away from everyone so they don't have to be caught in the wave too. It's not something that I can put on hold for a better day, it just happens and it's sucks! I had a prescription transferred to a different pharmacy and I seriously went to three different pharmacies thinking it was the one the medication was transferred to. Not until the third store did I even get the right name of the store! Am I really that stupid or just spaced out? I really hope my brain comes back. I had a counseling appointment and she missed the appointment thinking it was another time, could have used it today but it's all good ( I had too irritating of a day to even talk). I dodged a couple car accidents, then dropped my new phone and scratched it but thankfully didn't crack it because I just got rid of the insurance on it, locked myself out of the house, and the air conditioning broke in the car and it was really hot so rolling down the windows it is! I am going to call it a day, try to sleep, and hope that tomorrow goes by fast.

Six months out

Well, I got through Logan's six month anniversary of his death date and I actually did pretty well on that day(a couple days after was a completely different story). I did wake up at 3AM and had a really sad moment.  My friend's daughter died exactly one year ago on Logan's six month death date which I find interesting. So she came to my mind also.  I just got really sad thinking about the babies and what they were doing at that moment.  I luckily had my grief support group later that morning.  I met one of my best girlfriends for lunch and then went to an allergy appointment that lasted almost three hours of poking needles in my back and arms.  But, seriously what is physical pain?  Even if they stuck me with 100 needles it's nothing compared to watching my son die.  I don't understand why on the dates that I expect to be a mess I'm not and regular days with no significant meaning, I am a complete mess.  I really want to figure this out.  It doesn't make sense to me but the more I learn about grief I understand that it comes in waves and those waves come at random times.  I think sometimes it is the anxiety buildup of the significant date.  The worries and the pressure from myself about what to do on that date and the emotional crash, it's exhausting.  I need you all to realize one thing about grief, it does not go away, and we don't forget about it.  Just because I am not a crying mess everyday doesn't mean that I don't need you to check up on me.  I am human and I hurt everyday for my loss.  I'm humbled enough to know that Logan had a bigger purpose in life and death, but that still doesn't take away from the sharp pains I feel in my heart.  I am grieving healthy and progressively healing, but I ask that you not forget about me or Logan, this is a tough road to drive.

When the Storm Hits

Called "When the Storm Hits" by Joanne Cacciatore, Founder of MISS Foundation: 

The death of a child is a tragedy that seems largely unexpected in Western civilization.  It brings an unspoken disquietude and life is forever, changed.  How can a person-a mother, father, grandparent or sibling-possible prepare for a tragedy of this magnitude?  The storm of grief looks much like Mother Nature's wrath.  The death of a child wreaks havoc on a family, both individually and collectively.  It ruthlessly tears apart our ideals, values, beliefs, innocence, and immunity.  It awakens unanswered, and unthinkable, questions of faith.  It requires a person to summon every morsel of strength to survive just one more day in the child's absence.  It can savagely destroy our old identity, making us face a new and frightening reality.  It is the unthinkable.

It is likely that grief has left parents feeling as if their 'town' has been destroyed, their constitution dismantled.  The feel 'rebuilt' (reborn) as a new 'home' (person).  The new place is unfamiliar to them.  It will take tears, time, work, and patience to reacquaint with the new "home" in which they live.

Eventually, the city's renovation is complete.  An occasional moment of joy may be reborn within the lives, homes, and buildings of the new community.  Like the bereaved family, communities will never forget the thunderous demon that changed their lives so dramatically.

Eventually, with the love and support of others, tranquility and security are recaptured.  Hope is discovered.  But life will never, ever be the same again.



"In order to experience the rainbow, we must first survive the storm."

Bereaved Parent's Wish List

A Bereaved Parents Wish List

I found this list on a friend's blog and loved it.....this pretty much explains my life right now.  I know the changes in me, make some people feel uncomfortable.  This best explains the weirdness you might be picking up on.............

1. I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had him back.

2. I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you as well.

3. If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.

4. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you more than ever.

5. I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.

6. I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know things through a phone call, a card or a note, or a real big hug.

7. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.

8. I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that he is dead.

9. I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy." Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.

10. I don't want to have a "pity party," but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

11. I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.

12. When I say, "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't feel okay and that I struggle daily.

13. I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.

14. Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent. However a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.

15. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.

16. I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. But I pray daily that you will never understand.

Roller Coaster

This last week went pretty good (as far as grief land goes).  I have been feeling a little more normal for a few more days in a row instead of just a few hours.  I went to my counseling appointment and worked through some things, went to my support groups and talked as I usually do throughout the week.  It felt good.  I can go to my groups, relate to other parents who have experienced the loss and go back to my life and try to get used to living in my “new normal”.  It’s almost too good to be true (not like life is great right now-but you know what I mean) and it WAS.  I had a complete meltdown last Sunday night that carried into Monday too.  I broke out into a cry and have no idea what triggered it.  It was completely exhausting, but it’s even exhausting to try to be normal now.  That’s grief for you!  I think I cried for like three hours.  I hate how it happens in the most inconvenient times and places!  I just want to be able to control it.  I feel like it’s running my life for me, I am just following grief’s footsteps. I think that’s one of the most difficult parts of grief, is realizing that we are not really in control of what happens in life and what crazy emotions and thoughts grief brings to the table.  Then the week ended with getting  five baby envelopes in the mail.  One being a survey on how my baby and I are doing.  Seriously??!!  Who sends these out?  I guess I would know if I didn't rip it up and throw it away.  I am pretty sure that they really don't want me to fill out the survey, just a guess. I thought I was pretty conservative with filling out all the baby websites and all of those places that get your information and send you stuff.  I called every single piece of mail that came through after Logan died and politely told them to stop sending me anything baby related.  Of course, they ask WHY?  Is that question even necessary?  If someone calls and is asking that, shouldn't they just know that the conversation is not going to be a happy one?!  Anyways, apparently I didn't do a good job of that. I am just hoping that this roller coaster ride puts on it’s breaks soon!  I have been on this ride long enough to know that this ride is never ending.  I hate putting that on paper and I really hate that sentence but it is so true.  I am thinking as time goes on you learn how to deal with the grief or manage it better?  This week, not so much and I know the next month is not going to be easier.  With his 6 month anniversary of his death and Mother's Day around the corner, I am terrified of what's to come and don't even want to think about it but have already been forced too with the Mother's Day commercials on TV, awesome.

Parental Grief Article

My favorite paragraphs out of an article on Parental Grief-I wish more non-bereaved parents would read articles like this to give them a better understanding of us and what is going through our brains (because no one can even imagine unless they have been through it themselves).  It's a new lonely world out there..........

Bereaved parents need to know that others may minimize or misunderstand their grief. Many don't understand the power, depth, intensity, or duration of parental grief, especially after the death of a very young child. In some instances, bereaved parents are even ignored because some individuals are not able to deal with the tragedy. They find the thought of a child's death too hard, too Inexplicable, or too threatening. Many simply don't know what to say or do and so don't say or do anything.  Grief is the natural response to any loss. 

Parents need to be reminded how important it is to process all feelings, thoughts, and emotions in resolving grief. Bereaved parents must look within and be prepared to deal with the past and present. They need to talk about their loss, and the loss must be acknowledged by others. They need to tell others about what happened to their child; they need to talk out and through their thoughts and feelings from the heart, not just from the head. Healing for bereaved parents can begin to occur by acknowledging and sharing their grief.

An intense parental attachment has been formed between parent and child no matter how young the child is at the time of death. Others need to try and understand the intensity of this attachment, the depth of the parents' grief, and the magnitude of their sorrow.Grief is exhausting and demanding work. Grief is also a process, not a single timed event. Bereaved parents appear to exhibit different reactions at varying points in their grief and to grieve differently even when they belong to the same family.

There is a need to talk, without trying to give reasons. No reason is going to be acceptable when you hurt so much. A hug, the touch of a hand, expressions of concern, a willing listener were and still are the things that have helped the most...The people who [were] the greatest help... [were] not judgmental. It's most helpful when people understand that [what is needed] is to talk about it and that this is part of the grief process. - DEFRAIN ET AL. 1991, 158, 163

Friends and caregivers should try to help grieving parents express their grief. They should try to be a safe place for them-a place where they can be themselves, where they can be confused, where they can express their pain, sadness, and even anger. Those who care should grieve and mourn with the parents; they must also be willing to listen.

Bereaved parents need to know that their child will be remembered, not just by them but also by family and friends. They need to have the child acknowledged and referred to by name. They want that child's life to matter. They do not want to forget and they don't want others to forget. One bereaved parent said, "The mention of my child's name may bring tears to my eyes, but it also brings music to my ears" (Anonymous).

What has happened to these parents has changed their lives; they will never see life the same way; they will never be the same people. As they attempt to move forward, bereaved parents realize they are survivors and have been strong enough to endure what is probably life's harshest blow. By addressing their grief and coping with it, they struggle to continue this journey while making this devastating loss part of their own personal history, a part of their life's story, a part of their very being.

Missing you

Grieving to the tenth power

I am having a hard time with the “other” overwhelming things we have to deal with as grieving parents besides our own loss and pain.  People act like I have some sort of disease that they are going to catch if they get too close.  If they put too much thought into it, it may happen to them.  Their own fears come out and take over.  So, they choose to stay away.  When Logan first died, I heard that this may happen but I am really feeling it now.  Right after he died I heard many people say let’s get together for lunch or dinner and hang out.  Let’s just say, I can count on my fingers how many people really meant that.  Four months out, everyone’s moving on with their lives, except for us.  Thoughts of our son consume our days.  I want to talk about him like every other parent does but it makes people feel uncomfortable because my child is dead.  I don’t feel like I can relate to regular people anymore only to the ones I know really “get” it.  I need to attend a training class on how to socialize with the human species again before I become a hermit.

Maybe they think that I am going to counseling and that should help fix me!  Once I am fixed, then maybe we can be closer again?   Little do they know that there is no way to be fixed.   Counseling just helps me get to the next day, helps me deal with the unimaginable comments, helps me understand that this is final and he’s not ever coming back, helps me respond to the question everyone asks in greeting, “How are you today”?  You know, that little question that people never want to hear the truth.  That little question that people want you to lie about, especially, if you just lost your child.  Would they like me to respond truthfully and say, “Well I am devastated.   I have been crying all day about my dead son and looking at his pictures taken before the mortuary picked him up, wishing I held him or kissed him one more time”.  Does anyone who asks, “How are you today” really want to hear that, um……. NO!  That’s how I want to answer though because he is mostly all I want to think and talk about, at least that way I know he will never be forgotten (my biggest fear).  I find myself getting extremely tense now when that question is asked.  How do I ever get back to where I was when that question didn’t make my hair stand up on the back of my neck?  I am not sure.  Do I have to keep lying to make the “questioner” happy since that’s what they want right?”

I feel like I am living outside of this world now.  I am an outsider looking in.  I find I have to prepare myself before I am around certain people and situations in hopes that they will go smoothly.  I feel uncomfortable.  I don’t even know what to talk about.  I know they don’t want to hear all about my dead son and I’m not really interested in all of the small talk but I’m thinking I should act interested.  If I don’t put on a happy face, no one is going to want to be around me.  I mean, there is only so much crying and sadness people can take, I get it.  This grief creates wedges in relationships.  This is so not what I wanted.  Another thing to grieve, lost relationships.

I remember people would tell me that I will NEVER be the same person again.  THAT made the tears flow even more.  This is taking “change” to a whole new level.  I missed my old self.  Who wouldn’t want to be their “old self” in this situation?  Now I have to grieve something else?!  My “old self” is gone forever too?!  I want to go back to getting excited about the holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, trips, the smell of coffee, yummy cookies, rainy days, ……my future.  A rewind button sounds great right about now.  It seems unfair to me that it’s been so long since I’ve had a good, long, hard laugh.  Life used to be so full of humor.  I want to experience laughing until I pee my pants (sorry).  Does that ever come back?  Will I ever get to experience that much joy in life again without feeling guilty?

It almost makes me laugh (out loud) when I hear people complaining about anything and everything.  Those meaningless petty complaints that you hear at a restaurant because someone wanted more ice in their soda, or at a store because the line is too long, or a bratty teenager complaining about a certain piece of clothing they want and their parents won’t buy it for them, etc.  It seems so ridiculous to me now.  I don’t even care if I am in a long line.  Most of the time I am day dreaming about my little Logan anyways so what difference does it make if I am in a long line, in traffic, or in my house thinking about him?  Not much, either way that’s what I spend most of my time doing.  I could care less if I am stuck in a traffic jam, it will eventually clear, the line will get shorter, more ice won't make it taste any different, and material things don’t mean squat.

So Exact

I felt the need to post this from a friend's page that lost her daughter, it is so exact to my feelings....
 Maybe this will help some people understand what we go through as loss mommas. 
From SmallBirdStudios.com - 


You don’t know what to expect.
People surround you. For a couple of weeks. Making sure you are not going to kill yourself, refuse to get out of bed, or start rocking a baby doll like the crazy lady they heard about from a friend.
You get lots of sympathy cards, clearly written and designed to be sent to console a daughter losing her father. Not the other way around.
You get free baby formula in the mail. For months and months and months.
And free baby magazines. And free baby coupons.
You secretly envy every pregnant woman. But not without a tinge of guilt, because you know all too well that she might be one in four- expecting her rainbow child.
It seems like the whole world is expecting a baby.
You have baby stuff around your home. Because you never imagined you wouldn’t need it.
You feel jarred. In the grocery store. At a birthday party. At the dinner table. At Christmas. Driving.
The baby you never knew, but lost changes every part of your life. Every. single. part.
Forever.
You see baby clothes and it brings tears to your eyes.
You get sick and tired of crying. You never knew it was possible to cry this much.
You find yourself angry at God. Angry at yourself. Just angry.
You swear you can feel them kick but they’re gone. They call them phantom kicks. I call them painful, all kinds of painful. But sweet too.
You know, or you have a strong feeling of knowing what your child would have looked like, and been like. You see a child in the store, or on the street. Their hair color, dimples, smile, their personality and suddenly you are reminded of your child. You miss your child even more, if that’s even possible.
Your Babies R’ Us Registry is still active. There is no delete button on their site. The babies r’ us people don’t make a dime on people like us. Why bother right? You have to call them, plead with them to remove your freaking’ registry, because there will be no baby shower. There is an awkward silence. There is sadness. There will be no baby.
You get hospital bills about 3-4 months after you buried your child. You have to pay for the baby you delivered but didn’t bring home.
You find that moment of happiness in life for the first time, but the guilt swallows it up almost immediately.
You remember the size of the casket. The size of the plot. The face of the funeral director. The expression of those that attended the funeral. The feeling of raw pain, like your chest has literally been ripped open.
Somehow you convince yourself that you deserve happiness. Because you really do. But in the happiest, purest moment, there is still that hole that only they were meant to fill.
People compare your pain to their own pain. The loss of their grandmother, husband, their failed marriage, rebellious teenagers. Somehow this comparing leaves you stranded. If they can compare their pain of a situation to the loss of your BABY, they will likely never get it. Babies are not supposed to die. End of story.
You lost a dream. And it almost feels like you imagined their entire existence up. Their name becomes a distant memory on the lips of others.
There is awkwardness when you talk about your child in a crowd. No one knows whether to cry, walk away or pretend you never brought him or her up.
You lose friends. You find new ones.
You can’t believe that women have actually survived this and you never knew about it. Not really, anyway.
You would do anything for another minute with your child.
You cry when others bring up your child, not so much because it hurts but more so because it such a precious and rare gift.
You long for the rewind button, even after many many instances of acceptance.
You want to know what went wrong, and why…
You find a new appreciation for moments in life that make you laugh… you laugh harder and love stronger.
You know that you can die bitter, or die thankful. There is no in between.
You never ever, EVER get over your child. The one you hoped for, prayed for, carried and loved for the weeks and months they were with you.
You learn to live with the pain.
You are better for having known them at all..

Stupid Comments

   I don't want to offend anyone but I have seriously heard some of the most absurd comment since my son died.  I just wanted to share them and my feelings on each so here goes....
1. You are young, you can always have another child-
     I can’t just ALWAYS have another child.  How do you know that I can?  That’s interesting that you know that because I DON’T even know if that’s true for me? I’ll tell you what YOU shouldn’t assume, just because someone is young doesn’t mean that they can just pop out children like I am some sort of baby oven?!  Even if I could have another child, its never a safe bet, there is always risk and people seem to forget that.  They just assume that the pregnancy will be fine and everything will go smooth.  Guess what?  That’s not always the case unfortunately; I’m just being real and choosing not to be in denial about it.  That would never make it better nor does it ever take away the pain from what happened……AND I’m not sure if I really can have another child.  My body is having issues and maybe permanently damaged from the pregnancy, so think about that before you throw out assumptions to avoid awkwardness PLEASE?!

2. At least you didn’t have him for that long to bond with-
     Like that should seriously make it easier?  I know everything happens for a reason…yah yah yah but I am still entitled to have a bond with him and feelings about it.  I was thankful at the time that he didn’t suffer any longer but would give anything to have had more time with him.  I miss him and want him here, he is still my baby, my child.  What people that haven’t lost a child don’t understand is that it’s not something you ever get over.  It never goes away.  You are never the same person you were before it happened, you are forever changed. You look at life differently.  It may get easier with time.  But honestly, it never completely heals.  So now, I have to learn to deal with the wound and choose the path I would like to take with it and hopefully help others in the future that unfortunately had to experience this terrible pain.

3.  It could be worse, you should be thankful for what you have-
    Here’s my thoughts on that, I really do “get” that comment.  I do.  I might even tell myself that when I am privately sorting through my feelings.  However, I am not really sure what could be worse than watching your fresh, innocent, child die in your arms and there is not one thing you can do about it.  It is the most helpless feeling I have ever experienced.  Parents are supposed to fix things for their children and help them when they are in pain.  Children aren’t supposed to die.  Watching his health struggle and slowly taking breathes until there were no more to take.  Sitting in a silence of tears, not knowing what direction your life is supposed to go in and not sure of your purpose now.  The look on his poor sweet, precious, tiny face looking at me for comfort, while HE dies. I would have rather been stabbed with a knife myself, and really it physically felt like that.  My heart was ripped out of my body.  Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change being there for the world.  I am thankful that I was there for him when he was born, and then again when he died. But let me tell you people, until you experience your child dying, please refrain from those words it just adds fuel to the fire that was already ignited. 

4. You can’t let this destroy you-
    Here’s my response to that statement: I understand that you don’t want to see me hurting.  I don’t want to hurt and I feel like I am taking the proper steps to help myself get through this terrible time.  Grief is painful and it can destroy some people.  I feel that if I grieve the “healthy” way and  once I am in the further stages of grief I won’t, but it might be uncomfortable for you to witness.  But being a freshly bereaved mom, it IS going to destroy me some days.  Not every day, some days I can suck it up smile and enjoy the here and now.  But other days, I need the allowance for a wreck.

5. You should be starting to feel better by now- 
   Really?  Are you the “feel better” police and have some sort of timeline I should be on because if you do, can you please put me at the end of it?   I would appreciate that, thank you!  Seriously, I would love to had skipped this whole grieving process, trust me on that.  I even asked multiple counselors and doctors if I could.  The problem is, here’s your choice=start grieving it now, or start later.  If you don’t grieve it now, it will happen later and possibly come out in other ways sickness, health problems, cancer, etc (that has been proven).  I am choosing to feel it intensely now rather than later in hopes that I can avoid all that.  Not everyone does that and it's ok, everyone is different.  I realized that there is no magical way around it, if there was, I would have thought of it already and so would all of the authors that wrote the grief books.


     Conclusion-

I get it that people feel uncomfortable, mean well, and just don’t know what to say.  That uncomfortable feeling is mutual.  I am uncomfortable with my son dying.  It is definitely out of my comfort zone for sure as it is with anyone that goes through this.  The best thing to say is basic, “I’m sorry”.  I almost want to give people a “thank you for saying the right thing gift” and activate a loud thank you buzzer that releases confetti to let them know that was the perfect thing to say! Maybe I will invent one for grievers and become rich…………

Today

Today, it has been 3 months and 19 days since I watched my little guy take his last breath.  Many people recommended journaling to help me with the healing process but I could not get myself to do it or ANYTHING thoroughly for the first couple months.  I was so confused, this was supposed to be the happiest time of my life and it turned out so NOT.  It took everything I had to wake up, push myself out of bed to get a shower, brush my teeth, try to put on a decent face for everyone else as best I could and let me tell you sometimes I didn't do a very good job.  It was difficult for me to accomplish anything being in such a new physical pain which I hadn't been prepared for (not that you can EVER prepare for losing a child).  My heart was officially ripped out of my body.  I had horrible "Achy Arms" with no clue what that was until I read the book "Empty Arms" and had also heard from other moms that they experienced it too.  It is an intense aching, heavy, painful feeling in your arms where they could just naturally drag on the ground.  It lasted for weeks.  I missed my son so bad I just wanted to hold him one more time! I had a C-Section so I was really sore, and as if that wasn't bad enough then my milk came in full force, a whole other emotional trauma.  It was completely insane how sad I felt having to deal with getting that whole process to stop not realizing how LONG it would last, maybe it lasted longer for me because I started pumping right after Logan was born?  I don't know, he was my first baby so I don't have a clue.

I was so mad at myself for having such a hard time. I have to get through this, there are other people that need me!  My husband and I talked so much while in the hospital and we felt like we could handle this, not that we wanted to, nor would it be easy, but looking back I think that maybe we thought we could and wanted to skip the grieving process.  We now know, it is impossible to do that.

So, here I am.  I hope this helps.....