My Own Grief

Weeping may endure for a night,

but joy comes in the morning.

Psalm 30:5

 

 

 

Nights are the hardest.

I don't sleep well due to nightmares,

flashbacks,

and physical pain.

 

Nights are quiet and lonely.

That's when the tears come.

I can't stop them.

Though I wish I could some nights.

 

I miss my son more than anything.

 

This bible verse says that joy comes in the morning.

I wish it did.

I wish I could be full of joy

and happy for my family.

But I struggle everyday.

Every minute of every day.

 

I've yet to take a deep breath.

I've yet to smile where it wasn't at least partially forced.

I've yet to have one day where I don't cry.

That's my grief and I own it.

 

I feel so alone in it.

People avoid me.

No one wants to come around the sad lady who lost her son.

It's just too hard for them.

No one wants to come to the house where there are reminders a little boy used to live there.

Its just too sad for them.

 

Too hard for them.

Too sad for them.

 

The problem with being strong for other people,

is eventually they forget how much pain your really in.

They forget how much you need them.

They get lost in their own emotions,

their own grief over your lost son,

that your feelings no longer matter.

And when you can't be strong for the anymore,

because our grief is too much,

they act like your crazy.

Like you don't have a right to feel the way you do.

 

Eventually even the closest of people walk away from you.

Slowly they become more and more busy so you see them less.

They avoid your phone calls,

or talk less.

Even when you want to talk about anything but your grief.

 

Even when the last thing you want to talk about is your grief,

no ones there.

Because just talking to you remind them that you lost your son.

And that's too hard for them.

 

I tried not to be that grieving mother,

who didn't care how it effected others.

Every one's emotions mattered.

Everyone grieved in their own way.

And that was important.

I went out of my way to make sure people understood,

that I understood their grief,

and the importance of it.

 

That was really hard for me.

To care about someone elses pain when I hurt so horribly.

But it was important so I did it.

 

All those people that I comforted,

even though it was too hard for me,

where are they now when its too hard for them?

Not offering the same support for me.

 

Yea my grief lasts longer.

It'll probably never go away.

I lost my son.

The one person I spent 24-7 with.

The little boy I devoted 4 years 5 months and 1 day too.

The little boy I had to be a nurse for.

The little boy that I loved with every fiber of my being.

 

And now I grief alone.

And I don't know how.

 

Tuesday were the worst because it marked the one week anniversary.

Then I started spending the whole day trying to hold it all together,

because Tuesdays shouldn't hold so much power.

That's when Wednesday's became bad.

I spent so much energy keeping it together on Tuesdays,

that I had nothing left on Wednesdays.

I started breaking down emotionally.

It made teaching a kids bible study class difficult.

I realized that I wasn't emotionally ready to not spend Tuesday crying,

and lost in grief.

 

 

Blessed are those who mourn,

for they shall be comforted.

Matthew 5:4

 

 

I have a bad habit of not mourning.

Or of rushing through the grief.

I don't know how to handle it,

because it's not something I can fix.

I have to fix everything,

and I can't fix this.

 

Trying to help others deal with the loss of Liam was like me running away from my own grief.

I didn't want to feel it.

If I made the grief go away then maybe none of this ever really happened.

Maybe my son would still be here,

and this would all have been a nightmare.

 

But its real.

It happened.

And I can't change it.

 

That doesn't make this easier.

It doesn't make anything better.

 

Figuring out how to grieve has been hard.

No one to tell me what I should do.

No one to explain how this works.

 

I have no gravesite to take flowers too.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't see my son in a casket.

And I couldn't visit him at a cemetery.

So we had him cremated,

and his ashes placed in a beautifully carved wooden "urn".

It depicts God with a grown sheep and holding a baby lamb.

It was perfect for our sweet little lamb.

But I can't even hardly look at it.

There's just a flood of emotions when I do that I can't process.

 

So I stare at his pictures instead.

I see his smiling face.

I remember the day the photo was taken.

I remember the joy.

 

That's all I have left.

 

And I think how cruel life is.

How a small innocent child was born with the odds always stacked against him.

How he never had a chance to live a long,

healthy life.

And I get angry.

And then I remember how he was never even supposed to live this long.

How he was never supposed to survive his first week of life,

let alone ever make it out of the NICU.

And I remember how blessed I felt to have him.

How blessed I was to be the mother of such a strong little boy,

who didn't care about the odds.

And then all the times his pediatrician praised me for how well I cared for him rang through my head.

"If it wasn't for you he wouldn't have lived as long as he did"

"If he's had any other mother he wouldn't have made it"

I always thought it couldn't be true.

Any mother would do what I'm doing.

Any mother wants to see their child healthy and happy.

I'm not dong anything different than any other mother.

 

And then it dawns on me.

I've surrounded myself with other CDH moms on social media.

I created a virtual world where flushing mediports,

and tube feeding was a normal thing.

 

So now what?

Where do I go from here?

Everything used to be planned out.

Almost every minute of every day (and night) came down to a schedule.

Meds.

Tube feeds.

Breathing treatments.

Home therapy.

Doctor appointments.

School pick up and drop off.

 

Now everything is being played by ear.

Things are planned.

There's no strategy for the day or days to come.

I just sit here alone every day until I pick Lanie up from school.

And then I sit here some more.

 

It shouldn't be so hard for me to process.

But the again I shouldn't of had  to say goodbye to my son.

 

 

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

They will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint.

Isiah 40:31