He should be two.....

Trigger warning- Living children mentioned.

He should be two on Earth, not in Heaven.  I find myself saying that over and over again in my head.  He should be two. He should be fighting me over potty training and fighting with Lydon over their trucks.  He should be giving kisses to Sawyer and making silly faces to make him laugh.  He should be running away from his sisters, tired of all the hugs and kisses they would most likely be smothering him with. I am constantly replaying our moments in my head with him in it.  What would life be like with him here?

I have lived in this odd haze for the last 2 years with one foot forward and the other firmly planted in a life before his death...a life without grief.  Grief for a loss parent is very complicated.   It is hard for others to understand unless they are in the trenches with us.  Our grief is our connection to our child.  We don't have a lifetime of memories to soothe our heart when it aches.  We don't have vacation pictures or old letters to touch and look at when we need to feel connected.  We were still getting to know this little person and yet we loved them so deeply.  A stranger we fell in love with before we even knew they existed.  And, as quickly as they came into our lives, they were gone.  We were left with deep, confusing sadness that seemed like a dream.  I have to awaken myself to my reality often because it is easy to let my mind wander and trick me into believing none of this ever happened.  The beautiful wooden box that sits within my home and the ache with every beat of my heart reminds me that it did happen.  He existed.  For a very short time on Earth, he existed.  He was beautiful.   A picture of perfection.  It is so hard to believe that something so incredibly breathtaking is gone.  How could this happen?  Why us?  I often play the last few months of his life through my head struggling to find answers.  Was it something I did?  Did we miss something?  Did he suffer?  Did he know how loved he was and still is?  How do I carry on without him?

This life has made strangers into best friends and best friends, as well as some family, into strangers.  It teaches you the importance of empathy and what it truly means to a grieving heart. It makes you question everything....all your relationships,  career, life in general.   You often wonder if you are on the right path because none of them seem right with a piece of your heart missing.  It is a confusing and emotional journey that requires every ounce of your strength to make it through each day....to get to the next sunrise where you are one day closer to being reunited in Heaven.  You have to put your mask on and power through because your reality is far too heavy for those around you.  You find your secret group, filled with beautiful mothers with heartbreakingly similar stories, where you can unload your fears and sadness before it eats you up.  You say 'I'm okay' more than any person should because it's exhausting being honest. You live a lie everyday because your heart is breaking yet you keep on living.  It's the nature of the beast.  Grief is ugly and ever changing.   Just when you think you have it controlled, it breaks free and attacks your heart.  People call me strong....that's a lie.  I'm just trying to stay afloat.  I do what I have to do for my family but it isn't easy.  I don't have the energy to extend to others after I take care of myself and my family.  I'm still trying to figure this all out.  There is no guide on how to live without your child. 

I thank God everyday for my beautiful Earth children and my husband.  They give me purpose and keep me grounded.  They remind me that I am needed and loved.  In the darkest moments, they show me the beauty I possess in this life.  Even on days when it feels as if we have more than we can handle, I find those moments of peace where I know we are blessed beyond measure.  Such a beautiful, wild, crazy life we have.  I wouldn't trade the joy or sadness for anything.  This is  my life. My beautifully designed life. 

Grief's Army

One thing I have learned about grief is its  unpredictability.   Just when you think you are making progress,  grief rears its ugly head and knocks you down like a bully on the playground.  It is a constant struggle to find a balance, a new way of living when everything seems so much harder to tolerate.  Everyday life is a battlefield and grief is your enemy.   You try to stand your ground but grief's army is much stronger than yours.  I'm not gonna lie, I have been struggling...I have been struggling to find a new path through this war zone and I now admit I need reinforcements.  

I thought I was doing okay, making my way slowly through the muck and getting one foot ahead of the other.  I was a fool to believe it would be that easy.  I realize that I put my grief on hold to focus on getting Sawyer to us safe and sound.  In the first few months of his life, I was in a haze of relief and gratefulness.  My grief was able to plan a sneak attack and I started back where I left off before I got pregnant.  I started to get frustrated easily and overwhelmed with minute things.  My organized ways have been nothing short of chaotic and I can't seem to get a grasp on it.  At first, I blamed it on life with four kids and I believed I would figure it out eventually.  I go to therapy to help navigate the grief and have had many discussions with my doctor about starting meds but I didn't want to seem weak.  I am a warrior, right?  I have seen the darkness of death and made it this far.  Shouldn't I  be okay by now?  How long can I hold on to this pain?  The stigmas of society weigh heavily on my mind because society often minimizes grief and labels it as weakness rather than human nature. 

Not many people know but I battled postpartum depression after I had Brynly.  I was terrified the day I went to the doctor to tell her I needed help.  It was the best decision I ever made but yet I still feared the judgment I may face seeking help again.  I tried telling myself that I could figure it all out with the right therapy and getting our family rhythm back.   Problem is, I am a different person now.  I see life differently and cannot go back to who I was before.  She no longer exists.  The new me has many fears and views life as before and after Holden.  But, I put on a brave face and tell people "I'm okay" even when I am screaming inside.  I share my true emotions with a select few who get me, who truly hear my words and allow me to vent. Grief is such a hard concept for people to understand because it is so different for everyone.  People try to use their own experiences or others' experiences to give advice to those who are hurting.   Even though well intended, it can cause more damage than good. 

Last week, Sawyer became ill and it was traumatizing for me.  I know most parents can relate to the normal fears when your child is sick but I truly know the pain of when things go horribly wrong.  I watched as he coughed and gagged and, at one point, his lips turned blue.  I froze in fear and thought I was losing another baby.  I felt my heart pounding and my eyes burning from trying to hide my tears from everyone.  The nurse in me is usually calm in these situations, assessing and determining what needs to be done.  I failed in that moment because the loss mom in me took over and I panicked.  I knew in that moment that I was not okay.  I needed help.  I can no longer ignore my heart's pleas.  I needed to take care of myself to care for my family. I was not okay.....

I saw my doctor and told her I needed something.  She got it, she got me.  I needed to know that I was not weak.  I needed to know that what I am experiencing is normal and we will find a way through.  I know I am not alone but, even with all the support, baby loss can feel so isolating.  It is a lifelong grief that will change many times and I realize that asking for help is not a sign of weakness.  I feel stronger having shared my struggles and seeking help.  I share this because I know of so many who suffer alone or minimize their pain to make it more acceptable.  Grief is human nature, a byproduct of having a soul and experiencing loss.  It's okay to admit when you are not okay.  That is the strongest thing a person can do for themselves and those they love.  Grief's army is no match for the human heart.  Never deny your heart the help it needs ♡