He's My Son

This is the problem with being the Mama Bear...you remember your children all the way back when they were just swimming around in your belly. And you remember what it felt like when you got kicked in the belly from the inside and the joy of having that life inside of you. You remember the feeling of having another persons life in your womb and with that comes such love; love that grows deeper with every day that passes, just as that baby grows under your heart. The anticipation of the birth of your first child cannot be described. The day that Nickolas arrived was such a joyous and wonderful occasion. Even eighteen hours of "natural" childbirth and a C-section could not take away the happiness I felt when I held my son in my arms for the first time. How does a tie like that become severed? How does that love ever stop? How does a mother learn to live without that child that grew inside of her and came from her body. I wish I knew the answer to that question. Right now, it feels so horrible not having my son here with me on this earth. I am still in shock and I still have moments, every day, when I cannot believe that I will never see my son again. The poem, "The Cord," hit the nail right on the head. And yes, the cord is still there and yes it pulls at my heart, and yes, I am bruised. All I want to do is find that cord and follow it back to my son.

I am reading this book called, "A Time To Grieve." It talks about three phases of grief. The first phase is called "retreating," where those who have lost a loved one will experience "disbelief, shock, confusion, and disorientation, as well as a number of other reactions." Damn straight I am retreating! I am trying to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction of having to deal with the reality of this loss. I don't want to accept that Nickolas is gone forever. I don't want to deal with the reality that he died a horrible, horrible death and he didn't deserve any of it. None of us did. My son did not deserve to die and I am very angry about that. Why shouldn't I be? I am angry at all the usual suspects (the doctors, the hospital, the chemicals, the radiation, the understaffed clinic, the genetic mutation that caused all of this in the first place) and GOD is right up there on the top of the list. Now I am not trying to rile up any true believers and I am sure I will be going straight to hell, but, tonight I really don't care. Where was God when Nick needed him? How many prayers are necessary to get the requisite miracle that is needed when one is trying to fix lungs that are beyond repair? Of course, I am angry. Maybe I was not worthy of this miracle, but, my son certainly was worthy of that and so much more. My science based mind really didn't expect one, but, my "I am a desperate mother" mind, really was hoping that "God" would have mercy on me and not take away my only son.

Today on my facebook I put the quote, "Where belief is painful, we are slow to believe." by Ovid. And you can take my word for it this is painful. The book says, "It takes a considerable time for our disbelief to dissolve." In the meantime, us grief-stricken folks sort of wander around in a fog...literally. Our hearing, our vision, our thought processes are all messed up big time. This is a protective mechanism to keep us from jumping off bridges or overdosing on Tylenol.

There is a sense of detachment that comes with this distorted perception of the world around us. It is like being forced to open a door when you know there is something bad behind it. Your mind tries to protect you until your are ready. You know you must eventually open it. It is the only way out of this place. But, you have to work up to it slowly. The ability to open that door and accept what is lurking behind it takes a looonnngggg time. How long? Well, that's any one's guess.

This book also deals with the issues of sneak attacks, or put in other words, "when the fact of our loved one's death is made painfully evident." Here is how one person, grieving the loss of a loved one, described their experience with sneak attacks and how they learned how to deal with them. "When I feel the stunning blow of disbelief, I will go to a place where I feel comfortable and rest for a moment or take a short walk until the shock dissipates....I will allow a "loving hesitation" in my life - a pause that lets me gather my physical and emotional energy --so that I can meet at least some of the day's minimal demands. I won't try to meet the big ones, only those that are small enough to manage." And thus that is what I do each day. Try to figure out what I can manage. And when I have reached the limit, I retreat.

Just a note on the newest addition to my playlist. I love this song. It makes me cry. It makes me think about how we love our children as our babies no matter what age they are. It seems I needed this song before Nick died. Did God not hear our prayers? Did he not see how much Nick was suffering? Did he not see how tired his Mama was? Did he not know that I would have taken care of him forever, no matter what? Mark Shultz is a wonderful writer and I love his voice. Also, the way I found this song was from the CaringBridge page of a little boy who is fighting a courageous battle against a blood cancer called hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis or HLH for short. There is a YouTube video of this little guy that shows how he has been battling this cancer almost since the day he was born. He has already had a bone marrow transplant and he is one courageous little dude. His name is Brayton. This song was playing on the video. I have also been reading another CaringBridge journal of another little girl who has the same diagnosis. Her name is Ally. She is currently down at Johns Hopkins and has been having a really rough go. She also had to have a BMT. If you would like to read the stories of these brave little soldiers in the war against cancer, I will post links to their pages below. Even though I am often wrapped up in my own little pity party, I never forget that there are people suffering and grieving that need our help, our support, and yes, even our prayers. Perhaps, those prayers can help these young fighters and their parents to pull through and make a full recovery. To check out the journals, click here. Brayton and Ally. Peace and love to all.