Bereaved Parents Month

   Yesterday I was searching out new blogs and I stumbled upon a post was about something very close to my heart. I don't know if any of my readers have heard of Bereaved Parents Month, I know I hadn't. This month, July, is Bereaved Parents Month.

    When your child dies, a part of you dies. I know that sounds bleak, but it's true. A little bit of light is gone from your world and you wonder where that light may be. You see the world much differently then before. Why wouldn't you? The world is different when you become a parent and it doesn't stop being different just because your child is gone.
    This probably sounds very strange to people who haven't experienced the loss of a child, but it helps to hear other people's stories. It makes you feel more human, at least it did for me. Not because you want other people to know this dark pain, no one wants that. But because you see everyone else around you with seemingly fine lives and you wonder why you're not fine. I say seemingly because if you talk to people long enough you'll hear a little heartbreak in everyone's story. My parents have had this kind of heartbreak, so they were the perfect people to talk to, for they really have been through a lot when it comes to something like this. By that I mean they have had 5 children born severely disabled and all 5 have since passed away.
   I was shocked by how many people I had known for years had children pass away. It can be so easy to feel like the marked one. You just have to remember that you're not the first person to feel that way.
    I've also seen a lot of people on different forums online talk about how they didn't know anyone that had a child die. If you're experiencing the loss of your child and needs to hear from someone that's been there the internet has a ton of resources such as the just mentioned forums. I also read a lot of blogs where people told their story, and I found them very healing.
    Also your friends and family that haven't experienced this pain can be wonderful support systems. Sometimes people don't know if you wanna talk about it, so you might have to tell people you need to. I'll always be very grateful to the friends and family that listened to me question and vent. And of course my husband was and is definitely a huge support system for me, I hope to be the same for him. If anyone can know the pain you're going through, it's your child's father or mother.
    Wherever you find support, just find it. Don't feel like you have to keep all the pain to yourself. If you don't feel comfortable talking to someone you know there are support groups, therapists, pastors, and of course who was there for me even when I doubted, God.

   Here's the link to the post that made me aware of Bereaved Parents Month. Thank you so much Erin for sharing something so important!

   Here's the links to the story of our baby James here, here,  here, & here

  Here's the link to the Bereaved Parents Month website here

Once A Day Hoped For

  Today would have been our son James' due date. It's a little shocking to me how fast it has arrived. Like that doctor appointment you weren't ready for but here it is.
   I can't help but think about what I would be doing today if this was still his should be birth day. Although I know most babies don't arrive exactly on their due date, in fact most don't. He didn't.
  I go through my day today and I think to myself, would I go into labor right now? Would I have been induced? Then I remember that things are the way they are. There's no turning back the clock on this. He came as swiftly as he went.
  On this St. Patrick's Day I choose to remember him as the joy I had expected today. The joy of  promises of more birthdays to come, cries to answer in the night, books to be read about puppies and little boys like him. I shall be comforted by the promise I still have left, of seeing him in Heaven one day somewhere over the rainbow, our little pot of gold. We love you Carter James.

The Afterlife In This Life

   When you hear the afterlife you're probably imagining angels and streets of gold, but that's not the afterlife I'm talking about. I'm talking about the afterlife after tragedy. A.T.
  You see I believe we all have two lives and two selves. Our lives and selves before tragedy(B.T.) and after tragedy(A.T.). I guess that kinda throws a monkey wrench in the whole YOLO thing(YOLO= you only live once).
    When I think of who I was and how I looked at life before James died it's as if I'm watching a movie about someone else. Just a few days before it happened the future with my child felt just around the corner. Now the future with a baby is more murky and distance than before.
    In some ways I'm still the same girl. I like the same foods, I watch the same shows, I take my coffee the usual way(two creamers and a half of a splenda). But things are different now. I don't assume things will be okay, in fact I KNOW things won't always be okay. That's not to say I can't have a mostly happy life, but it does mean I can't go back to my old life.
    Tragedy and mourning changes us. Sometimes in good ways. It makes us remember that things are precious and to not take for granted that things will stay the same. Because they won't.
    Tragedy is like a fork in the road. You can't go back, you can only go left or right. Sometimes it's hard to know which road is worth taking. But take one you must, you can only stand there but so long before a car comes.
    I believe everyone will have their own tragedy on this earth. That doesn't mean that we'll all have a child die or that most people would even recognize it as tragedy. We might even have had an event in our life that we thought was our tragedy and it turns out our tragedy hadn't hit us yet.
   I tend to think the person we become A.T. is our true self. That's doesn't mean that self is better or worse, in fact it might be hard to compare. Comparing is futile anyways, it can never change the life and self you have now.
    My old life is locked up behind a gate along with the girl I used to be. For a while I banged on the gates and pulled on the locks and chains. Some days I still do. But I'm slowly beginning to see that that's where the old me belongs. The me I am today is more of a melting pot of something new and something old. Not totally the new girl, not totally the old girl. Like I'm the old girl's slightly wiser older sister.
   Whatever life you're in right now, B.T. or A.T., just remember things won't always be the same and neither will you. But that's the beauty in life, it doesn't stop moving.

  

An Hour On Thursdays

   Every Thursday night at 8pm sharp I sit in my living room and watch Grey's Anatomy. Now this is something I've been doing for years, nothing unusual really. It's just been a show to me, until December 28th that is. Well actually even before that date. Allow me to explain myself.
   If you're a current fan of the show I'm sure you know that before they left for the winter break like they always do it was revealed that something was wrong with two of the characters soon to be born child. What you might not know is that I was worried that my son might have the same condition.
   I had been seeing the specialists at my doctor's office since I had switched to my doctor. It was just to keep a closer watch on me due to some family history that we ruled out with genetic counseling. While I was having an ultrasound at about 20 weeks the tech asked how tall I was. I told her 5ft., and then of course like any mom would, why? She said that his femurs (thigh bones) were shorter in comparison to other measurements, but it was probably because I'm short.
  Then probably about 2 weeks later I was sitting in the living room, watching Grey's Anatomy. It was the episode where they found out April's baby had a form of brittle bone disease, and they say one of the signs is a short femur. I was horrified. I just knew that my son had that.
   To make a long story short he didn't have anything wrong with his femurs. I even asked one of the doctors and he kinda laughed and said "I'm more worried about your femurs than your baby's". I was released from the specialists and all was well. Until it wasn't.
   When the new episodes came back after James death I wasn't sure if I could watch it, but I knew I had to. As strange as it sounds though it's been healing. Like when you clean a wound, it stings but it makes it better at the same time.
   I'm pretty good at putting on a brave face around others. But for an hour each week I have to confront it. I have to admit that that happened to me, that it happened to us. It's like I'm seeing my life, what we went through, for an hour each week. It's made this easier to process, easier to accept.
    When she finally finds out that it's lethal and they plan to pick a day and induce her, and they talk about baptizing their son, I remember. When she talks about miracles, I remember. I remember feeling him move while I'm sitting in the bed and asking the nurse could it be possible and seeing her shake her head "no". Then I finally had to accept that the miracle that I wanted wasn't coming, God had a different plan than what I wanted. And when one of their friends says to another of their friends about her child's passing it reminds me of the friends that opened up to me about their pain, and how grateful I was for their support.
    I read that Sarah Drew (the actress that plays April, and she was pregnant in real life) actually came up with the story line. I don't know why she did, but I'm grateful. Because for just one hour each week I got to heal in some weird way. I'm thankful that there's people in this world that want to shed light on the moms and dads that leave the hospital with empty arms, and even emptier hearts.

The End of Normalcy

   Normal. I'm not sure what that means anymore. It's been 3 weeks since the word normal lost its place in my vocabulary. I see people in stores with their shopping carts and I wonder, do they feel normal? Do they know I don't feel normal? Will I ever feel normal?
   I guess this is my "new normal". It's now normal for me to pick out flowers for my son's grave. To have to tell people my son died. To know that when I have another pregnancy everyone will be secretly wondering if the baby will live. To know I'll be wondering the same thing.
   I'm sure most people feel like this after a tragedy. Like the person they were is gone forever. I'm not only mourning my son's unfulfilled life, but the life I'd live if this hadn't happened. My whole way of thinking has been altered.
   Even in the midst of feeling like this I do feel hope starting to finally fade back into my life. Sometimes I can even feel joy. Like Sunday riding in the car with my husband. It doesn't mean that I don't still have moments where it's hard to breathe, but they're slowly becoming just moments.
  When I was having a moment something that helped me was what a kind friend said. Everyone has a story and unfortunately this is part of mine and my story is far from over. It helps to think of it that way, just a part of the story. I don't like how Carter James' exited but he'll always be my favorite part of my story.
   I hope that I can be a light for others in this type of darkness. Because otherwise this life taken from us feels in vain. It doesn't make his death make anymore sense but it's a way to honor his sweet spirit.