A Mother’s Grief
Today I struggle. Not unlike most days. I struggle because I cannot be who I am, I cannot feel how I feel. I must paint on that “makeup” of put together and go about my day. As, not to disturb anyone else’s.
I went to a machine quilting class I had signed up for some time ago. When I got up this morning I was no more interested in getting dressed and socializing with anyone. I packed my machine and away I went. I set up in the corner near, but yet away, from the others so that I could go at my own pace, whatever that may be. At times that pace was nada. At times it is hard to sit and listen. To Quilter A talk about x number of Grandchildren, and Quilter B is making her 10th baby quilt for so and so niece. I am happy and pleased that each of these families know the joy of a child. Emotionally I am not able to take it all in. Quilter C was talking about her 18 years spent as an NICU nurse. (I have never met this quilter. She is not from my guild. I most likely would have sat apart had I known)
After class I did whatever I could to avoid coming home alone.
1. Went to hardware store to pick out solar lights
2. Stopped at take out restaurant for a pop
3. Stopped at Dad’s for a dozen eggs to bake cake
4. Took long way home to drive by C’s grave
5. Stopped by Aunt and Uncle’s for a visit
While visiting, not one person mentioned what tomorrow is. No one………..Stories about cousin’s boy and his impending birthday. It is like my child has been erased. Increasingly, I find it harder to swallow, that I have to justify that I am indeed a Mother. I can, if needed, take off my pants and introduce you to my C-section scar. Or take you to see his headstone. The one that reads “Precious son of Husband and I”.
I guess most of all today… I am sad, scared, angry, broken, spent, empty and lonely. I am Cr`s Mommy. I am the one that gave birth to him. I am the one that sat, holding hands with my husband guarding his bedside, protecting him as I could. I am the one that had to tell my husband that we are going to lose our son. That he as not going to make it. I am the one that had to watch the fear, heartbreak, and grief on his face and know that there is nothing I can ever do to change that. I am the one that held him in my arms as the DR pronounced him. I am the Mother that bathed and dressed my son for this first time after he was gone.
I sit here on the eve of my son`s 2nd birthday. I am sorry if you are a new member of my “club“. My heart breaks for you as I have been there. I am there. The most important thing for you to remember is that it is ok to feel. Whatever you think, feel, want or need. It is ok………………No mater what anyone tells you, It is normal. It is your normal.
Different events in our life make us different people. Today, I am a Daughter, Sister, Wife and Grieving Mother.
I leave you with the final words from the book we read him each night. “On the Night You Were Born” by Nancy Tillman
For never before in story or rhyme
(not even once upon a time)
Has the world ever known a you, my friend,
And it never will, not ever again…
Heaven blew every trumpet
And played every horn
On the wonderful, marvelous
Night you were born.