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.