THOUGHT'S FROM THE HEART

Today is one of those days – you don’t know where to turn or even how to turn. You sit and think and cry and just want someone to understand, someone to talk to you, someone who really listens. Yet you don’t reach out – Why? Why is it we don’t do what it is we tell others to do – call someone, talk about your pain, and share your pain? We tell others this is what helps you get through your pain. Yet we sit and cry alone, we don’t want others to see or hear us this way. Almost as if we are waiting for the right person to call on the phone, the person we know we can really share with, but do we call them – NO! Is this one of those mixed emotion times – where we want to be alone – but we feel so alone and don’t want to be?

I have grown to hate days like this, when I’m so depressed that everything is an effort, let alone putting on the “face” for my other kids and my husband. I want to be allowed to grieve, I want to be allowed to cry, but I feel so uncomfortable doing that, sharing that with most people. Although it is daylight – I sit here in darkness. A darkness that I have within. I miss my son, I want him back, and I just want to feel him here with me.

The pain of allowing myself to let down all my defenses is too intense. That pain still scares me. Although there is so much to live for, so many people to live for, I too sometimes want to die. Maybe to alleviate the pain, the pain I can’t handle at times. To leave this life, the life I force myself to smile at each day, the life I force myself to live. When will this darkness leave me? When will I see the light of day again? The day I see my son in Heaven – that is when!

I find myself writing this, maybe because I hurt, maybe because I feel the need to educate others, maybe because I just have to.Maybe because my son died. In my search for help to assist me through my own grief I have tried to help others understand what it is that we who have lost a baby - a child - at birth feel. Sometimes it is very difficult to explain because he never lived outside my womb. But because he was vibrantly alive inside of me for those few months, I grew to know him as he developed.

Sometimes I think back and try to remember the happy memories of my time with Allan. He loved fettuccine alfredo, but it had to have broccoli in it. I think about the kind of music he liked. I think about the kind of songs that he liked me to sing to him. How he liked me to rub him to sleep. I also think about how he hiccuped so often - it sometimes drove me nuts! Oh, how I miss those days. But because of those days, and through this intense pain, I also have joy. I have joy because I had my son, because I loved my son, because I mothered him.

When I was first bereaved, I looked at people who had "time" with their children and thought to myself "Well, at least you had them for (however long it was)." I know others who are grieving look at me and think, "Well, at least you didn't get to know him." I know now how wrong I was, and also how wrong they are. No matter what amount of time you have with your child - the pain we feel is the same.We should never have to bury our children. I have pain because he died, because I had only a few minutes with him outside my womb, because I never saw his eyes open, never saw his smile, never heard him make a sound. That silence I heard in the delivery room was deafening. The pain of saying goodbye.

I grieve his loss terribly. I feel that crater burned into my heart, I feel the emptiness that will never be filled, I feel the loss of my future, my life.You see, I feel what you feel. Our experiences may be different, some may have had their children for a longer or shorter time than I did, but our pain is all the same. Losing a child is a life-altering experience. Things will never be the same - I will never be the same, and I don't want to be.!

How can I possibly tell other bereaved parents, especially ones with more years of experience than I, how to accept others that lost children at different ages? I can only speak of my own experience, and relate how I feel. Can the number of years, months, days, minutes or seconds you have your child define parental grief? Not in my opinion. Although the pain we feel is our own, we all know that awful pain of losing our child. For me that pain began the day my son Allan died.

I began loving my son the moment I conceived him, and will continue to love him and to mourn his death the rest of my life. When I look at the "parental bereavement community," I see, for the most part, very compassionate people. Although all of us tend to gravitate towards those who lost in the same fashion as we did, I still see the bond we have - a bond that can't be broken. We all have had one or more of our children die. I believe regardless of the child's age, or the circumstances of death, our losses are similar.

My son was born sleeping (I prefer that term to the more common "still born"). He was a baby, my baby, though he never breathed the air. He was, and is my child! Yet it has been my experience that even the bereaved tend to put a "price" (if you will) on the pain of others. Though my grief comes from the death of my son - a baby born sleeping - my anguish is as sharp and debilitating as one whose child died at a few weeks, a few months, a few years or at 45 or 65. Does it matter WHEN we lost? We all lost our child, and all of us need and deserve the support and compassion of others.

It may be true that I didn't have a chance to know my son for as long a period of time as those who lost older children. Yet I DID know him. I knew what he liked, and what he didn't like; I knew when he wanted to sleep and when he wanted to play. I knew this because I am his mother and I carried him in my womb.

We have all paid a BIG price to belong to this club that none of us wanted to join. Isn't that enough of a price to pay for others to accept us with open arms? It seems like it was so long ago, that I felt you inside of me, kicking, rolling those daily hiccups. People sometimes say - "It's good you didn't get to know him". How wrong they are - I knew you - I knew you better than anyone. I knew when you wanted to be touched - when you didn't want to be touched. I really feel badly for your Daddy and brothers and sister - they weren't as fortunate as I was - to have those months with you to experience your life as only I could.

How I miss those days. I wish I could hold you, nurse you and kiss your little face. I never got to hear your cries, wipe your tears or see you smile. I wish I could have shared your dreams, your fears. I wish I had your life outside of me. In my mind I know you are safe, and you can never be hurt again, like you were when you died. I know you are happy and have a smile on your face. But in my heart - that is broken all apart - I want you here - I need you near - not in heaven.

As I sit here and wonder - What would life be like? If only you were here. I know I would be happier so would your Dad and brothers and sister. I wanted you so badly - I still do. I know I will not see you ever again in this life - but eternity is a long time and I get to spend it with you. Will I ever hold you again? Or will it be you holding me? I can only imagine what you would look like now - blonde hair blue eyes, toddling all over the place - out running me - I am sure.

This heaviness that I hold in my heart - has not gotten lighter. Did I expect it to? Maybe I did! Maybe I expected to be "over it by now", like others have said, "You should be over this by now". I am not "over it"! I know I will never be. You are my son - and will always be a part of me - which can't ever change. I don't want it to! You have changed my life - with your life and death. I treasure the time we had, always wishing we had more.

In these past few years - my life has changed so drastically. I have lost family, I have lost friends, but can one lose something they never really had? I have realized who is important in my life - and those are the people that really matter to me. As I proceed on this journey of daily grief - it makes me take a look at all the things in my life that if I could do over again - I would. There are some things I would never change. Being your Mummy - is one of them!!!!

So today I write to you - just to tell you how much I miss you. This is so hard, Allan. I find myself angry with everyone - things they say - things they do. I guess I'd be better off living on a deserted island. The anger is eating away at me, destroying me day by day. I am not sure how to get rid of it. I just know it can't continue this way. My strength is dwindling rapidly, and so is my spirit.I look at my life and I wonder - what is it that makes me happy? Will I ever be happy again? Oh, how I hate this! How is it that others survive this - others are so strong - or are they? I have always been the strong one - in this I am weak! I don't know that I want to be strong! I don't know that I can!

Life goes on and we bereaved parents have to go on with it. Sometimes you just want it all to stop! I don't believe - I can't believe this gets easier. I would like to be able to cry all the time - but it has been over three years since you died - I shouldn't still be crying - should I ? Funny, most times - I can't cry - even though I want to. And when I do cry - I cry alone! Sometimes I just want to feel that protection from the outside world - like I try to do for your brothers and sister, but where do you find that? I just want to be held and made to feel it will be ok - someday!

My life is so different - I am so different - how could I not be! The old me is gone forever - getting to know this new me has become a real challenge, and I'm not sure I like her. Is there a light at the end of the tunnel? Will I ever see it? My arms ache for you - and my heart breaks for you! Yesterday is gone, tomorrow almost here, another day to face without you. My life is different. People have come. People have gone. But my life without you just goes on. Despite all else, I keep on going - moving forward - looking backwards. Living life as best I can. Hating death for taking you! Hating people for not saving you! Wanting more - needing more. Unable to fulfill those wants and needs.

My friends talk about life's many "triggers" boy are they all around, and do they ever bring you down. You don't want to leave your house because everywhere you go - triggers follow. Something or someone is always there to remind you of what should have been - and what will never be. You want to run, run as far away as you can. I remember not wanting to leave the house because, that is where you lived where you died. But then I realized that I could go places away from home because you lived and died in me. I was your home.

I hear people say things about their life and how awful it is - and I hear myself say nothing in life is worse then this - losing a child. There is nothing in my life I feel I can't handle now - I am handling the worst thing that could ever happen to someone. I may not be handling it well at all times - but I am still here aren't I! That says something - I haven't left the pain or the world behind. I continue to co exist with it.

When you become a bereaved parent - you hear of so many others who are also bereaved parents. They become your new family, your new friends. Every time you hear of someone newly bereaved - your heart just breaks all over again, feeling their pain, feeling your own pain again, knowing what they will go through, where you have already been. When will it ever end? NEVER!

Today's thoughts bring such uneasiness. I am sure tomorrow's thoughts will be the same. Life's road has been too rough. I begin to wonder if it will ever be smooth again. I find myself to be so anxious, so unsure, and so very uncomfortable. Wanting, needing some kind of reprieve. When and where will I find that? Searching for things in life I will never find. Finding things I can never have. My heart feels like it is shattering in a million pieces, there is no way to ever repair it.

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

I wish you wouldn't try to kill my child again by removing his memories and other remembrances from my heart. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever. 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. I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also how that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know these things through a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.

I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be already over. Sure those first months were 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. 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. 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. 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.

I wish you understood how my life was shattered. I know it is horrible for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you. When I say I'm doing okay, I wish you could understand that I don't feel okay and that I struggle daily. 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. Your advice to 'take one day at a time' is excellent advice. 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. Please excuse me if I am rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast, and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.

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. I wish very much that you could 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.

I don't know where to begin...The hurt I'm feeling is unlike any other pain I've ever felt. I keep wondering if God did this to punish me for something. I keep wondering why God gives children to people that do drugs, beat them, throw them away, abuse and kill them and why he took my Allan away, my beautiful baby boy.

The pain I felt in labor was really awful but I'd gladly go through it again 1,000,000 times again if I could only have my son back! Just when I think I can't cry anymore, can't cry any harder, can't miss him as much as I already do, I do! I had so many dreams for him. I wanted to take him to the park and watch him play, take him to get his pictures taken. I wanted to hold him on my lap and have him look up at me and laugh and smile. I'm so angry so incredibly hurt that he was taken from me. My arms feel so empty, my heart feels so dead. I wanted Allan's little fingers to wrap around mine and hold on tight but instead his hands were so cold.

I know now that I was pregnant with an angel, a precious gift from God, but why God, why did you take my child??? I'm feeling so robbed. I honestly believe that I will never heal from this. The only thing that could heal this pain is to be given my son back, for him to call me mummy. That's not possible so it's hard to believe that this pain will ever ease. Does he know I love him? Does he know I miss him? Did he suffer when he died inside of me??? Is there anything that I could have done???

The love I've had for him ever since I found out I was pregnant was strong but now it's even stronger. I keep wondering what will ease my pain and I don't think anything will. I WANT MY SON BACK! I want to feel him kick again and I want to feel him get the hiccups. I want to be able to hear him cry so I could hold him and comfort him but that will never be possible. I feel like my heart is broken, completely broken. My son is missing from my life and nothing can fill the void. Allan is with the angels now and they are taking care of him. But I'M suppose to be taking care of him.

I just feeling like curling up in a ball and crying until I die. I just can't understand why this has happened. I feel like there is a dark cloud following me around as a constant reminder that my baby is gone. It sees like each day I relive everything that happened. It plays back in my mind over and over. The nurses telling me that my baby was dead. Starting to cry, and me wanting to scream. My labor starting, all the pain I went through to deliver a baby that I would never get to bring home and watch him grow.

The last few years have been extremely hard for me. My sadness is felt 24 hours a day. But some days seem worse than others. Sometimes I feel o-kay and other days I feel like I could cry until I die. It's like a roller coaster I can't get off of, I go up and down all the time. I've been thinking of all the dreams I had for Allan. Dreams that now will never be fulfilled. It breaks my heart over and over.

What is really pissing me off is the people telling me what to do and how I should be feeling by now. They act like they know everything. But things have changed now. Everyone has moved on and gotten on with their lives, they're not sad anymore and it makes them uncomfortable that I'm still extremely sad. How do they expect me to just forget about my baby???

But i am beginning to see light at the end of this torturous tunnel of pain. I am still very angry at the people who do not want to talk about Allan and roll their eyes when I cry or say something about him. I'm very angry that they don't think before they say horrible things like, "You have your other children, you should be back to normal and fine by now." Or "It was for the best." Someone at work actually said that I should be over it by now because he was just a baby and I never even knew him. How cruel. I hope she never loses a child but if she does I will be there to remind her of her comment she made to me!

I've learned that you can keep going long after you think you can't. I've learned that learning to forgive takes a lot of practice. I've learned that friends can become strangers, and strangers can become friends. I've learned that ignorance isn't an excuse for the lack of compassion. I've learned that some people will never, ever - "get it". I've learned that the community of sorrow is the strongest of all. I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief. I've learned that your life can be changed in a matter of minutes. I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon. I've learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them. I've learned that love isn't measured by the amount of time you have with someone. I've learned that some sorrow is so deep that it has no words. But so is love.What has your child taught you?

Things you need to know if your child has died. No matter what you are feeling, you are NOT crazy.You will remember your child everyday for the rest of your life.Things that used to be important to you, may no longer be important. You may find that in general people do not understand the depth of your devastation. For lots of reasons, loss can be a difficult thing for friends and family to discuss. They might become especially uncomfortable when you mention your child's name to tell them you plan to celebrate your child's birthday or tell them you wish to have them recognize Mother's Day by remembering your child with you.

It can be difficult to not get angry when family and friends do not understand. Since my son died, I have discovered that there are so many reasons my family and friends do not always understand. It might be generational. In our grandmother's day, if a woman lost a child, she went on with her life as soon as possible. She had another child as soon as possible. She might name the next child with the same name as the child she lost. And she was encouraged to "forget" the child she lost, to not mention the loss. To simply go on as if it were "over".

Today, we have different ideas about grief and healing. But older family members may not understand this. Other family and friends may be afraid to bring up the subject of your loss. Some have children of their own and are afraid to look at this most horrible of realities, afraid it might happen to them if they acknowledge the loss. Some might just be afraid to "upset you" and may not realize that you are already thinking of your child every day even if they try to "distract" you with other things. Some just don't know what to say. They don't realize what a simple affirmation nod or a hug will do. They don't know that sometimes you just need them to listen. Some feel the need to "fix" this for you and find it frustrating to realize there is no "fix". And sometimes it is just difficult to convey to people that we have changed from this experience of loss.

The family and friends you are dealing with may be people who have known you your whole life. They think you are the same person you have always been. You look kind of the same. You still drink tea, or coffee as always. You still like the color maroon. You still appear on the outside to be the same person they have always known. But of course the reality is that you are a different person since your child's death. You are a different parent, child, sister, friend, woman, wife, partner. You are different all the way down to the cellular level. And your life is different now, too. No matter how things stablize, not matter how "good" life gets, you know through and through that your life is forever without your child. Sometimes if people haven't experienced this kind of loss first hand, they just don't get it. They do not understand forever nor without. And so they may not understand who you are now. It's okay. They don't have to understand, and you still love them.

But if you feel "crazy" or "lonely" or "alone" in this world because they don't understand, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE find other parents who are enduring the death of a child, too! Another parent in this same situation ! They will know how to listen to you! They will know what to say! And most of all they will understand.....

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