My sweet boy’s 3rd birthday…

Three years ago on 9/9/15, Baron came into this world-5 weeks earlier than expected-and made me a mother again.

My husband shed tears as I pushed with all the energy I had left more than 24 hours after I was admitted to the hospital.  His little shoulders were stuck as he was descending down the canal while I was begging him to come out safe and sound.

He was breathing a little fast so he was monitored in the NICU.  It felt like eternity waiting for him to be brought to our room.  I cried… I  prayed for him to be okay…

Baron lived life with us for 2 months and 5 days…  I used to take him on walks around the neighborhood to get out of the house.  I remember feeling so at peace outside with him.  We had our girl and we had our boy.  Life felt complete. 

I have memories of him that I demand my mind not to forget-picture a grieving (hysterical) mother on her knees begging for her child to come back–I did that. And now I do that all over again with great fear that my memories will lose details, that they will become fuzzy.  As time ticks by… I fear I will lose all that I have left of him.  Memories.

I close my eyes and beg my mind to remember what those hours and days felt like with him in my arms… I crave to smell his scent…with my lips kissing his tummy… his chest against my chest… the way his grunts sounded like close to my ears… I want to be smiling while I stare at his every little detail.

Then I ask myself to picture what life would be like with him now.  Who would he be at three years old?  What would he look like?  Would I be working again?  How would sissy be treating her brother?  I pull up pictures on Instagram of friends with little boy’s that were born around Baron’s birthday and begin to fantasize… the emotions are overwhelming… and here I sit crying again writing a new post to try and deal with my loss.

I want to celebrate my son’s birthday… I want to watch him blow out candles and stuff cake into his mouth.  I want to see him run around with excitement because he got his favorite toy for his birthday.  I want to hear his giggles while he plays with friends.  I want to smell his stinky feet after the party is all over (gross I know, but he’d still be small enough at 3 before he had BIG kids feet).

BUT this won’t happen… so my fantasy ends.

And I ask myself to figure out a way to celebrate the life that he DID live… to celebrate that he IS forever my son.  One year we did a butterfly release, and another we did bubbles… we always get a cake, bring balloons and I put out a new birthday bouquet for his vase there at the cemetery.  I put out the photo album I made of his life to look through and we light a candle.

Maybe this year we will donate to a SIDS foundation or grief support foundation in his name to help fund research and help others.  How can I mother him while he is no longer on Earth?  What more can I do as his mother??  I now feel inadequate… that what I do in his honor is never enough.  

What have y’all done to celebrate your child’s life on their birthday??  Feel free to leave comments.

 

Another school year

It’s that time of year again…when a new school year starts for families all over the world.

If you are a bereaved parent, you are missing your child/children doing one or more of the following:  your child’s first time to ever start school, your child moving up another grade level, your child graduating!  These are HUGE “firsts” for parent’s.  These are special moments where you memorize every little detail to store in your memory bank FOREVER.

Leading up to this week, my emotions ping-ponged at high speeds.  I cried and thought too much.  I was exhausted and impatient.  My anxiety was high (it always is), but I was excited too.  I felt sad and nervous for the new life changes.  There are no words to explain how difficult it is to balance being happy and sad AT THE SAME TIME.

I felt exhausted because there was so much to do, and so little time to grieve.  I was impatient because the “to do” list was growing by the day but the kids still needed and deserved my full attention.  I was anxious because Stella was starting daycare and I worried that she might miss me, that she wouldn’t be taken care of to my standards, and I feared something bad could happen to her.  I was nervous about working again (I’m a teacher) and performing my duties to the best of my ability.  Naturally, I was sad because I DID NOT want to be leaving Stella and Emma after having spent so much time with them this summer.  On the other hand, I was excited to witness these “firsts” with them… to see them learn, blossom, and experience life.

Emma Grace just started 1st grade today.  My angel Baron would have been going into Pre-K3.  Stella just started Mother’s Day Out in the baby wiggles room.

Luckily, my oldest daughter Emma helped me drop off Stella for her 1st day of daycare.  I needed Emma more than she knew.  She calls herself the “little mommy” to her baby sister.  Emma and I spoke honestly about how we felt leaving baby sister as we walked Stella into school, and walked hand-in-hand with teary eyes back to the car.  I spoiled Emma afterwards with a trip to the nail salon, a haircut, lunch, and treats to celebrate her entry into 1st grade.

My girls are experiencing making new friends, meeting new teachers, learning, and growing… And Baron never will.

What would he look like?  What kind of kid would he be?  Who would his teachers be this school year?  Would he be excited or would he want to stay with mommy?  What would I be packing him for lunch?  Would he be potty-trained? 

Another school year bring so many emotions.  While I’m excited and nervous for my two girls to experience each school year, I will always be upset that my son will never get to experience school at all.

 

 

When Self-Control Is In Short Supply

thelifeididntchoose

Have you ever tried to squeeze into too-small jeans, managed to get them over your hips, sucked in and zipped up only to realize that all that extra “you” is now spilling out over the top of the waistband?  

Sometimes that’s how life after loss feels.  

Too much emotion, too much baggage, too much EVERYTHING that has to fit inside a very narrow set of other people’s expectations and tolerance for self-expression.

I find that I CAN squeeze my words and actions into that skinny space-for awhile.  

But then sure as anything, the real me pops out the top and there I am-exposed to the world- warts and all.  

I’ve discovered that self-control is not a limitless commodity.  

Now before my Bible believing friends remind me that it is part of the fruit of the Spirit, I want to say this:  it sure is!  And because the Spirit of…

View original post 162 more words

Different

Who was I before loss?  Who am I now after loss?  I feel so different.  My thoughts, priorities, feelings, perspective, and knowledge have changed and grown.  There are some changes that I can’t quite put my finger on… and each day brings new and different emotions.  Trying to figure out who I was and who I am now is exhausting and confusing.  I was forced to change so suddenly.  Loss changes things in a physical and emotional way.  We lose our identity and struggle to find ourselves because we suddenly became someone different.  People find that their relationship with the bereaved will change, and they’ll have to figure out how to have a NEW relationship with them.

Who was I?

I felt braver then-although I still had anxiety.

I had more energy.

I think I felt like bad things happened, but probably wouldn’t happen to me… at least I remember crying and feeling awful for people who experienced loss.

I felt like I had been through the worst times in my life, and only better things would happen now.

I felt more resilient.

I laughed more.

I wanted to socialize more.

I was more open about my life.

I got to take care of my baby son (feed, snuggle, care for, pay attention to, kiss, hold, etc).

I got to observe “sissy” smile and hold her brother.

I don’t know who I was then, like I can’t remember specifics… maybe that’s my body/brain’s way of protecting me.

A mommy to Emma and Baron.

Who am I now?

Worry.

My guard is up.

Hyper aware of tragedy.

Sometimes it feels awkward to be around others.

Forgetful.

Need more routine.

Planner/researcher (I think I have always been this way, but what I plan and choose to research has shifted).

Mama bear even more so now.

Obsessed with keeping the kids safe.

Much more focused on being with kids/husband.

Trying to be as healthy as possible.

Loud noises bother me.

I crave silence.

My mind races way more than it used to.

I’m constantly sad, even when I am happy.

I have to go to cemetery at least 4 times a month.

The way I parent has changed.

Marriage has changed.

Because I have changed.

A mommy to Emma and Stella (on Earth) and Baron (in Heaven).  That is very hard to accept.  It is very hard to figure out how to be a mommy to someone that you can’t physically do things for.  I am learning.

 

 

 

At the same time

While this life feels unbearable, terrifying, and dark there are moments of joy…

… happiness

… pleasure

… excitment

… play

… sunshine and

… satisfaction

that peek through and ask to coexist at the same time.  It’s hard to balance feeling extremely sad and happy all at once.  But, I am thankful for the positive moments that help me bare the unbearable.

This unfair life

Ever since my son, Baron, passed away life has felt dangerous…

… overwhelming

… sad

… torturous

… dark

… claustrophobic

… demanding

… unsafe

… noisy, but silent

… irritating

… painful

… intense

… different

… excruitiating

… miserable

… hard

… unbearable, like grief is slowly destroying me from the inside out every single day.

I just want you here with me.  I love you so much Baron.

Online Resources

Houston, TX Online Resources for support groups

M.E.N.D – Mother’s Enduring Neonatal Death

The Compassionate Friends

H.A.N.D – Houston’s Aid in Neonatal Death

Bos’ Place

Persistent Grief Disorder (PGD)

Dr. Rick Goldstein, Program Director of the Robert’s Program recently conducted a study with bereaved parents that had lost a baby/child to SIDS.  The findings are being used to help pediatricians distinguish the difference between PTSD, PPD, and depression.

“Prolonged grief disorder (PGD) is common, distressing and persistent in mothers whose infants have died from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) and have lasting implications for their health and well-being.”

Alison Jacobson, CEO of First Candle and loss mom says, “Dr. Goldstein’s study demonstrates that the grief a mother experiences after the death of her baby is unlike any other.”

“As Dr. Goldstein notes in his study the painful ‘pangs of grief’ although not a mental disorder per se, are a key feature of pathological grief and the strength and severity of separation distress suggests the importance of attachment bonds between mothers and their deceased babies. This can have an impact on a woman’s bonding experience in a subsequent pregnancy or their parenting of other children.”

Please see the article on First Candle’s website here

-This article came at such a crucial time for me.  I have been having a difficult time throughout the day thinking about my son, recalling memories-begging myself not to forget.  A day consists of me constantly trying to talk myself out of breaking down.  Trying to be “normal” (as a friend, parent, wife, etc…) is mentally exhausting.  I actively try and learn how to cope in the best way possible.  I cry anywhere, need timeouts, take deep breaths, count, run, sleep, take my medicine, drink a glass of wine, journal, read… nothing takes away the pain, sadness, confusion, and anxiety.

Survival

I have come to a realization that allowing myself to stay in a deep, dark area of grief for a long time isn’t beneficial to me or my little family.  Of course, I do and will continue to let myself spend time feeling the emotions; to cry out my love for my child, to honor him, and to relive what memories I do have, but then I have to make a decision to climb back off the floor and return to my day the best way I know how.  The day’s in and outs of trying to survive daily are a struggle having PTSD and anxiety.  Having flashbacks of the day and night of his passing happen almost daily and without warning.  You can’t predict how you are going to feel in each minute and hour of the day.  Things will trigger emotions within you that will need to be let out.  The stages of grief really are like a rollercoaster… you’ll have your “ups and lows”.

• The 5 Stages of Grief by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross:  Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.  Read more about Grief
• These stages happen in no particular order, and you will bounce back and forth between them like a ping-pong machine.  I also feel like shock, guilt, irritation and confusion should be added!!

I lived in that deep, dark place and didn’t think there was a way back to the surface.  I tried to help myself “get through” the grief with alcohol, medication and therapy (off and on) for a year, at least.  I wanted to feel the horrific pain, the excruciating despair.  In my opinion, that equaled the amount of love I have for my son.  Life would never be the same and didn’t seem worth living—even though I had my 5-year old daughter.  In reality, the alcohol and medication was making it easier for me to make the decision to end my life.  I just wanted to be with my son again.

So, one day I PROMISED Baron, Emma (and now Stella) that I would try and get “healthier”.  This “promise” happened when I was trying to get pregnant with our next baby.  I promised I would try and turn my pain into something positive.  I would stop drinking too much when I felt awful, I would exercise to relieve the stress, I would write about my feelings (or record them on my phone), I would focus on my kids and make them my priority, and the list goes on.  I knew (or realized) if I kept up with the way I was grieving, then I wouldn’t be able to care for the kids or my husband—let alone myself.

People always say, “There is no way I could live without my child.”  I still say that, especially when I start panicking about losing another child… but somehow-if you give yourself time to grieve and mourn the loss-you will pull through-BUT you have to do the work to make that choice.  It is anything BUT easy.  I read countless grief books, sought out support groups, read articles, joined Facebook communities, found ways to honor Baron and parent him from afar, etc.  You will have setbacks, you will go through the worst thoughts, the sharpest pain, the most unimaginable difficulties—but you CAN get there.  Let me add that I will grieve my son forever, but hopefully in a way that allows me to mourn and live and not mourn and feel the urge to give up.

I still wake up not wanting to put my feet on the ground.  I still lay there with my eyes closed trying to feel, smell, and see the memories with Baron.  Tears still roll down my face, the weeping and sobbing will continue… The triggers are STILL there.  The day we lost Baron, the moments and details are forever etched in my brain and heart.  The open wound still seeps blood, no band-aid could ever close the wound and make it normal again.  I still want to be with Baron, but now I realize I have two other children that need me.  And I CANNOT miss a moment with them either.  They need their mommy-they depend on me. And I want to believe that Baron needs me here to keep his memory alive.

 

The Robert’s Program on Sudden Unexpected Death

I learned of this program through one of my Facebook support groups.  Dr. Hannah Kinney, MD is the neuropathologist at Boston Children’s Hospital.  The purpose of her research is aimed at defining the causes of sudden infant death syndrome.

Shortly after Baron’s passing I was able to have a phone interview with Dr. Hannah Kinney.  Baron was added to their program after I was able to gather various records from the medical examiner, hospital, and doctors.  It is my hope that they are able to use his information to help with their research.

Please see the link below to learn more about SIDS research through their program.

**You do not have to be a resident of Massachusetts

http://www.childrenshospital.org/centers-and-services/roberts-program