I make people uncomfortable.

I make people uncomfortable.  I.  Make.  People.  Uncomfortable.  My life or my situation makes people uncomfortable.  I am the mother of a lost child.  I am the mother of a child who died too young.  If it can happen to me, it can happen to other people.

People are scared to talk to me about my child who died.  They are afraid they will make me cry.  They are afraid they will cry.  Maybe my loss reminds them of a loss they have had in their lives, something hidden and buried and tries to break free when reminded of my loss.

Maybe they don’t know what to say, afraid of saying the wrong thing, so they say nothing.  They ignore posts on social media, they pretend nothing has changed.

This past weekend was Luke’s 9^th birthday and Mother’s Day.  It was a rough weekend.  A friend, “C” actually shared a Facebook Post about talking to grieving moms, she said it helped her to see that saying anything is actually comforting and helpful. You can read the article here. This is how to stop the world 

I have an amazing group of online friends I met years ago in a group called Spals.  They have called, send cards and flowers and checked in regularly to make sure the kids and I are OK.  They remember every holiday and anniversary.  They too are mothers of kids in heaven.  After we graduated from Spals, most of us not planning on having any more Spals babies, we kept in touch by a new e-mail group and now by Facebook and texting.  There have even been a few “Surprise” babies.  It is hard to believe I have known some of these women for 15 years!  They even forgive (I hope) my lack of communication when I just can’t talk about things and my rambling, long confusing posts when there is no one else to talk to.

I spent part of the weekend being sad and frustrated more people in my off-line life didn’t recognize Lukie’s b-day.  It seemed besides “C”, everyone who posted or said or did something to remember Luke has lost a child in one manner or the other.

Today it occurred to me that maybe the people whom I was disappointed in were hurting too.  Maybe my loss, maybe Luke’s dying reminded them of something they have buried so deep they don’t even realize it is still hurting.  They deal with my hurt by ignoring it, brushing it under the rug, going on with life as usual because to acknowledge my pain would be the catalyst that brought their own pain rushing back to the surface.

To everyone who acknowledged Luke’s birthday Friday, Thank You!  To the people who find it too hard to think about….. I am truly sorry for your pain.  I pray you find the strength to deal with whatever is hurting you.

Memories and What If's?

Little man,  it is almost your 9th birthday.  Your 9th!!!  Where has time gone?  It feels like yesterday I was waddling pregnant with a butterball turkey, my hips hurt so bad... then you were born and life was never the same!

I came across a Timehop post today about you.  You were terrified of a common housefly, but were still naming the ants on the sidewalk and trying to bring them inside to live because, "They are my friends mama!"

I think of you every time I come home from work, Snowball comes running out to the van and lays down and rolls around trying to get a belly scratch.  You would always come running outside to get a hug and ask if I brought you food.

I wonder what you would be like if you were still here.  Would you still have your squeaky baby voice?  Would you still be tall and scrawny?  How would you have done in second and third grade?  Would you have made Mr. Mike crazy in Stacking club? 

I wonder what life is like in Heaven.  Have you talked any angels out of their swords yet?  Is there a fishing pond?  What are your brothers like?  Did they meet you in the water with Jesus or were they waiting in Heaven for you?  I can't wait to get there to see you again baby.  Will you still be seven years old when I see you again or are you aging in heaven?  I want so much to hold you again, to feel you run across the room and jump in my arms again.  To wake up and find you snuggled next to me, to kiss the bridge of your nose and play with your hair.  I miss you so much Stinky man.

We don't have counselors anymore Lukie, insurance and the Thelma decided we were "cured."  I don't think we will ever be cured.  We are all still struggling with the daily things....... things sneak up on us and we are blindsided by the emotions.  A tech's wife is having baby boy after three or four girls, that left me in a puddle.  I keep telling him Luke is a good name, but I think they already have a name picked up.  I tried Bubby!!

We haven't gone a day when someone doesn't say, "Luke would have loved that", or "Luke would have said that", or something to that effect.  You are still in our hearts and thoughts every day baby boy. 

Ebb and Flow of Grief

Recently I was told I needed to schedule my grief. Or, more specifically, I needed to set aside time everyday to cry for Luke.  I wasn't sure how to take that piece of advice.  As I look over the last 15 months since Luke died, I can see a huge improvement in how I have handled things.  In the beginning, it took everything I had to get out of bed every day and go to work or do anything around the house.  We ate a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches and mac and cheese.  The kids did the laundry and took out the garbage.  I didn't go back to work until after the kids went back to school, although school for me started the week after Luke’s funeral.

The waves of grief were overwhelming.  At any moment, I would not be able to breath, the weight of the entire world would rest on my chest, the tears would flow; there was no stopping it.  Anything and nothing would trigger these episodes.  It was a horrible way to live.  A week before I was scheduled to go back to work, I got a call on a Sunday morning that the dispatcher scheduled didn't show up, could I come in to work.  I went in, relishing the feeling of the normalcy of work.  Nothing at work changed, the techs were the same, the work was the same, I was alone in the office with the phones and computers.  The day was going fine until I started missing Luke and picked up the phone to call home and talk to him.  The breathlessness and tears came in full force.

Since then, the days of not being able to breathe and the tears have slowly decreased, instead of a few times a day, to once or twice a month.  There are still times that hit me unexpectedly, seeing little boys that are Luke’s age or that look like him.  Seeing a picture or status about him on Facebook or Time Hop.

Now I cry on the way to work, if I get to leave work early, I head to the cemetery before going home and have long talks and tears with his headstone.   I cry before going to bed, silent tears as I get ready, sometimes on more difficult days, sobbing in the shower.

The last week was bad, getting ready for Christmas and missing Luke.  The feeling of despair was weighing heavy on my heart.  I wanted to crawl in a hole and die most days.  It took everything I had to get out of bed and function.  I have noticed it is the days leading up to a holiday, anniversary or other special day that are harder to deal with than the actual day itself.  Last week was our Christmas party at work.  Even though Luke wouldn't have been a part of that in any way, except maybe helping decorate cookies, it was a hard day.  My secret Santa gave me an ornament for each of my kids, including Luke.  That brought on a fresh wave of tears, not only did she remember him, she included him.

There are good days, days when I can laugh, when the kids have fun and are kids again. When the world isn't so dark and dreary, have glimpses of light and air. Days my every thought is not consumed with the loss of my sweet baby boy.

I started this post a few days before Christmas.  On Christmas day, I woke up feeling like a weight had been lifted off of me.  The craziness of the Christmas season was over, I was able to sit back and enjoy my family and our day. 

I have not had so many bad days, but I have had some wild dreams.  Some include Luke, some don’t.  The ones that don't leave me shaking my head, sending a tech to Africa to install cable only to have him get lost while I watched his truck drive along the ocean border. So I hopped a plane and road a pig to find him…

There are still days when I can’t catch my breath or thinking about one thing starts a chain reaction of thoughts and memories that leave me in a puddle. 

We are short-staffed at work right now, so everyone is working more hours and more days, leaving us all on edge.  The lack of sleep and time off isn't helping any. I need to replenish the tissue supply more often than ever right now.

K stepped on glass the other night, bleeding all over my house.  It was obvious fairly quickly that she needed to be seen, so off we went to the nearest hospital instead of Children’s where Luke spent his last hours.  I thought everything was OK until she started crying, having flashbacks of the PICU with Luke.  She spilled her heart as we talked about what could have been and what we could have done differently.  It was a hard lesson in hindsight being 20/20.  We had a good talk about God, and how He knows our entire lives before we are ever born.

The kids and I are surviving; there are more good days than bad days.  But there is still a huge hole in our lives.  That will never change.

So goes the ebb and flow of my grief…..