Thanksgiving was extremely hard, as well. Aaron was born just five
days before Thanksgiving. I was not the most pleasant person for the
Holiday. There was some tension in the family already, so I did not want
to participate at all. I reluctantly joined the family for the festivities.
Christmas was even worse. I was a complete basket case. The only
reason I even had a Christmas tree up was because of Joseph. I did not
want to go to my in-law’s Christmas Eve party. I just wanted to be left
alone. The party was being held at a local fire hall. I did not like the place
to begin with, then my Mother-in-law wanted to bring a television so we
could have the Steelers game on. I am a major Steelers fan, but I did
not think that a Christmas party was the place to have the game on. I got
a lot of bad mouthing from Sandy, my Mother-in-law. We did go to the
party, but did not stay long. Christmas day was so hard for all of us. I
honestly do not remember exactly what we did. I just remember the way I
felt.
The next trying time came during the first week in January. I would
have been due with my first pregnancy on January 8, 1997. Remembering
the day that I should have had my first baby was so much harder after
loosing Aaron. I realized how much it still bothered me to loose the first
baby. I always remembered the day that I miscarried, but I never really
thought about the day that I should have had her. I say her because in
my heart, I believe that the baby was a girl. I had a dream shortly after
Aaron’s death that confirmed that for me. In the dream, I saw Aaron
holding hands with this very pretty girl. She had wavy, auburn hair and
very pretty blues eyes. The only sound that I heard was birds chirping,
what sounded like moving water, and a little voice that said, "We are okay,
Mommy." I woke from that dream in tears, but also with a sense of peace
for a little while.
I realized during that first week in January 2001, that I needed to talk
about my miscarriage a little more. I really needed to grieve for my first
baby. I contacted one of my online friends, and we talked for hours.
Misty has become a great friend. We talk every chance that we get. She
lost her daughter due to a doctor’s error as well. Misty’s daughter Monique
lived for 22 months and passed away on my birthday. One of her
other children’s birthdays is very close to Joseph’s; therefore, we had
many things in common. There have been other parents that I talk to
frequently, but Misty and I just clicked better. At first, it is extremely hard
to talk about loosing a child, but after you start, it is hard to stop. It is a
therapy like no other. I have been on several anti-depressants to help me
cope, but if I can’t express my feelings, they do not work. I don’t know if it
is psychological or what; it is just what I have discovered in my own
experience.
One of the things that has made losing Aaron even harder is the fact
that I can not have anymore children. After Aaron was born, I had my
tubes tied. I would have never gotten it done had I known that Aaron was
sick. I was reluctant to have the procedure done in the first place, but now
it is even harder on me. I want to be able to have the procedure reversed
so that I can have another child, but most insurances will not cover
it. I have fought with several doctors and insurance companies; they will
not budge. The reversal costs between $10,000 and $14,000, opposed to
the $2,500 to have your tubes tied. After reaching a dead end with trying
to find help, Lewis and I came up with a plan. We are in the process of
starting a non-profit agency to raise money to help other couples in our
situation. I have talked to many other grieving parents that have hit
the same dead end. We want to help with a portion of the costs so that
they may find hope to have another baby. While we realize that another
baby could never replace the ones that we have lost, another baby could
help fill in a void in a couple’s life. Even though we do not have the fund
set up yet, we already have decided on it’s name. It will be called: Light of
Hope Foundation (Aaron Jackson Memorial Fund.) I know it is a long
name, but I wanted it to be known who the fund was in memory of, and
Light of Hope is what we hope to bring to other families going through the
same thing that we are. It is my hope to have Aaron’s memory live on in
the lives of others.
In May of 2001, I decided to name the first baby that I lost. As I stated
previously, I believe in my heart that it was a girl. I wanted to give her a
name before May 18th, (the date that I miscarried five years before.) I
looked at names online, in books, and took suggestions, but nothing
seemed to click. I went to bed one night, and before I went to sleep I
asked for guidance to pick her name. I had nick-named her "Sweetness."
I awoke the next morning and the name Makayla came to me. I loved that
name, but I had to find a middle name. I asked Lewis what he thought of
the name and he said that he liked it with my middle name, Renee`. I
finally had her name, Makayla Renee` Jackson. I felt so much better. I
kept repeating her name over and over. I am not really sure why I felt
compelled to do so; I just know that it helped give me a calming sense.
After I had named Makayla, I worked on my emotions. For awhile,
nothing seemed all that important. I did not get worked up about the little
things. We were about to lose our house, and I did not care. I started to
take things in stride. When a bill collector called, I told them point blank
when we have money, so will you. You see, neither Lewis or I was
working. We had just lost our jobs, and frankly, I did not want to be
working anyway. I had a hard time concentrating on work after Aaron died.
I knew that I was going to be starting college soon, and I wanted to have
all my concentration on school and my family. We had already lost two
almost brand new cars due to our financial situation. The house was the
next logical thing to go. It really did not bother me at first, that is until we
moved to a public housing complex. It was not the nicest neighborhood, but at
least we had a roof over our heads. I tried to keep in that frame of
mind, but it is really hard at times. Tension and stress have found their
way back into my life.
I am missing Aaron now more than ever. His second birthday was
especially sad. I had been sick and missed quite of a bit of classes. I was
so worked up from being sick and missing Aaron on his birthday. We got
a little cake and just had his name put on it. We also got some balloons
to release. It was such a beautiful and clear day. We watched the
balloons until we could no longer see them. The rest of that day my
thoughts were consumed with images of Aaron. I remembered the way he
would smile, the way he smelled, and the cute faces he made. My mind
turned into it’s very own video camera. Reliving the wonderful times with
my son was both satisfying and sad.
In the process of writing this paper over Christmas break, we have had
to deal with more losses in our family. On December 23, 2001 we lost
Lewis’ Aunt Dot. She had been battling cancer for eighteen months. While
one expects to loose an older family member, I had a hard time with it.
Dot’s funeral was held at the same funeral home that Aaron’s was. I was
having an anxiety attack as I walked into the Chapel. I started to
remember every aspect of Aaron’s service, and I began to cry
uncontrollably. I was also having an emotional day knowing that we had
one more funeral to attend the next day. My Uncle Don unexpectedly
passed away on Christmas Eve. He was at work and had a massive heart
attack. Uncle Don was only 46 years old. I was so worried about
Joseph; he adored his Great Uncle Don. Joseph has a very hard time
hearing about death. He understood the concept too well for a four year
old. Some of our family members do not think that he understands as
well as he does. They say things like, "He is only a kid. He can’t
understand it." I beg to differ; kids know more than adults give them credit
for.
I have found that a lot of people say really stupid and insensitive things
to grieving families, especially to families of those who have lost a child.
The biggest thing that upsets me is when people say, "You are still young,
you can have another one." I am quite offended by that. I try to be as nice
as possible and say, "No, I can’t, I had my tubes tied." Often their reaction
is, "Well can’t you have it reversed?" I hate to go rounds with people on
the subject; especially with those who have no clue what it is like
to lose a child. Some people tell me that I am lucky that I have one
healthy child. I would agree to that, but again, they have no concept
unless they have been through the same situation. That is one thing I
would not wish on anyone. People that do not know you and what you
have been through wonder why one minute you can be cordial
and the next completely in a rage. I have compared the emotional roller coaster
that a grieving parent goes through to that of a person that is Bipolar. In an
example: I can be sitting down having a normal conversation with a person, then I
can get quite giddy. I usually over compensate my depression by being too giddy.
My thoughts wander, and I start feeling guilty for laughing and having a good time.
Yes, you tend to feel guilt a lot when you are a grieving parent. Once you are in that
mode of guilt, one comment can cause you to get so mad. It might have been an
innocent comment, but that does not matter. You are now in a rage. You feel like
the whole world is against you. You get so furious that nobody seems to know the
pain that you are in. What is worse, you feel like no one cares. It takes some time
to realize that if people do not know the pain you are in they cannot possibly care
what you are going through.
I have found that talking about Aaron is the best thing to help me through these
emotional fits. I need to have people understand my mood swings. There are
some people who are very compassionate and others that are very insensitive. As
I have stated before, there are some outrageous replies given to grieving parents.
The person that I receive the worst comments from is Lewis’ Step-mother, Sandy.
She knows the complete hell that Lewis and I have endured for almost three years.
At the same time, she is the least compassionate of those in the family. After
Aaron passed away, she put his picture away. It hurt so much to not see Aaron’s
picture up with all of the other grandchildren. I asked Sandy where Aaron’s picture
was, and she said she could not bear to look at it. I accepted the fact as much as I
could at the time. Last year, Sandy and I got into an argument over an unrelated
issue. She had just lost her sister to cancer and she was in a very unpleasant
mood. I completely understood that, but she started yelling at me about always
being depressed. I said to her, "Sandy, you know what Lewis and I have been
going through, so why am I not allowed to still be emotional?" She had the nerve to
say to me, "The only thing bad that has happened to you is that you lost "What’s
his face." This completely enraged me. Here was someone in our family saying
such a hurtful thing. This woman was Aaron’s grandmother. Why couldn’t she say
Aaron’s name is beyond me. She continued to say that she just lost a sister, and
she had lost her parents, her husband and another brother in her life. I told her that I
have lost other people in my life as well, but losing a child is so much worse. Not
only did we lose our child, but we also lost our home. Lewis and I needed to be
together and work through our emotions as a family. We were not as concerned
with working and making money to keep the house. Sandy thinks that no matter
what emotional state we were in that we should have kept working to keep the
house. Some people are strong enough to continue their lives normally; however,
Lewis and I were not. We have been fighting our emotions every day since March
14, 2000.
Lewis and I have even dealt with Aaron’s death differently. Even though we are
Aaron’s parents, we have had to deal with different emotions. I felt a connection
with Aaron as soon as I knew that I was pregnant. I carried him for eight and a half
months, and I got to see him every day of his life. Lewis did not have that
opportunity. He was gone so often with work. Although Lewis spent every chance
that he could with Aaron, it would never be enough time. Lewis also is the one that
found Aaron the day that he died. These events still haunt Lewis. We have tried to
be there for each other. We have tried to be supportive of each other’s feelings,
but it is still so hard. Neither of us can fully understand the other. That fact baffles
some and makes perfect sense to others.
There have been so many marriages that have fallen apart due to the death of a
child. I can see why. My marriage has been very strained since Aaron’s death.
Even though we are trying to pick up the pieces of our once normal lives, we have
found that we need so much more support. Lewis and I have talked about
receiving outside help. This is something that two very stubborn people have
trouble with. We wanted so badly to get through this ordeal on our own. It is like a
slap in the face to know that we are not able to do it alone. We have not only
ourselves to worry about, but we also have a very confused son. Joseph has had
so much trouble dealing with his brother’s death too. It does not make matters any
better when his parents are not sure which way is up.
One thing that I have learned is that dealing with the loss of a child is a constant
learning experience. You learn more about yourself than you ever thought possible.
Even though you are going through a roller coaster of emotions, you realize that it
takes a strong person to survive such a loss. You learn to look deep into yourself.
Basically, you learn to psychoanalyze yourself. I have found that you may not come
to a conclusion that a Psychologist or another mental health professional may
have, but it is the beginning of healing. After Aaron died, I was told that it takes two
full years to get through the grieving process. I believe that when it comes to losing
a child, you will grieve until your last breath. It may become easier over time, but
you will never be the same person that you were before your loss. The world does
not stop because a person is grieving. We must go about our normal activities.
There is a time and a place to take a time out for ourselves. We reflect on life as it
was and how life is now. When you lose a child, you lose a part of yourself. You
can never get that piece of yourself back, and you learn to live without that piece.
Through the trying times in life after losing a child, you constantly question
everything. Over and over again you ask should I have done this, could I have done
that? The would of, could of, should ofs will rule your existence if you let them. I can
happily say that is one area of the grieving process that I am over. I have no idea
why this happened to us or why God needed Aaron, but I am at peace knowing
that one day I will see him again. As for complete peace, I will not know that feeling
until the day that God calls me home. Then and only then will I find the peace and
joy of seeing Aaron again and of seeing Makayla for the first time.
So you see, just like everything else that life deals you, this has been and will
continue to be my life-long learning experience. This is just the hardest lesson that I
have had to face.
We are currently going through a law suit against our former family doctor. Until the
suit is settled, either in or out of court, we will not be able to get through the next
step of our grieving process. Some people ask us whether delaying some of our
healing is worth continuing with the law suit. If we can get justice for Aaron and
possibly prevent another family from going through the same ordeal, then I would
have to answer yes. In addition, I believe that it will help me in my educational
aspirations. Aaron’s death has caused me to re-evaluate what I want to do with my
life. I have always thought about becoming an attorney, now I am on my way to
obtaining that goal. It just goes to show that good things can come out of major
tragedies.
My son may be gone from my sight, but he will always be in my thoughts and in my
heart. There is a saying among grieving parents that I would like to share. "So tiny,
so small, but they left their footprints on us all." We seem to have a pact to never
forget each other’s children.
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