I've been hard to love

In the months since my son died I have learned more than I probably would have in my entire life. Unfortunately, they've been cruel lessons and my heart aches to not know them. One of them is finding that my loved ones and the people that I thought would be there to catch me aren't actually waiting to do so like I had figured they would. 

I think it's a combination of everyone else's world still spinning even though I feel like mine has stopped, and that I have been kind of hard to love lately. There is an unintentional selfishness that comes after losing a child. I don't try to be selfish and in ways I'm not sure if that's even the right word, but I can't deny that I am entirely consumed by my own situation and feelings. I now live in an entirely different reality than pretty much everyone I know. Not that I was "innocent" before Boston's death, but losing a child robs you of being naive to anything in life or ever again experiencing that ignorance is bliss. I experienced first hand that life can change in an instant and that death and tragedy don't care if you are a good person, good mother, or if you're good at anything at all. When they come, they come, and when they do the only thing guaranteed is that you will never be the same. 

I think that some people feel that if they don't acknowledge my pain that it's not there, but it is present every single second of the day. My sons death has taken over each and every part of my life. My "new normal" is nothing being normal at all. Simple things are no longer simple, and no matter what I am doing anxiety cripples me in ways I can't explain. It's so frustrating that no matter how much I try to explain or put it into words, very few people understand what this type of pain feels like. If anything comes from my own terrifying "new life" my hope is that it is help for others who might ever have tragedy steal everything they thought they knew about life from them. So, here are some important things to remember if you love someone that's lost a child. 

We don't know what we're doing. Literally and figuratively. I honestly had no idea just how hard life could be and living with that is difficult and terrifying. Feeling lost no matter where you go and only thinking of your child no matter what you're doing makes it hard to do anything at all. So, when you see us and we have the same look on our face as the little one who can't find their mom in isle 5, even though she was just right there, it's because we're the moms who can't find all the love that was lost when OUR child left us forever. 

You can't take our pain away. You can help us struggle through it, but you cannot make it go away. It's not because you're incompetent and don't know how, it's because we lost the most precious form of love and it's truly irreplaceable. 

Keep your promises. If you're a friend or family member of someone that has lost a child and you promised to be there to support us, then please do it, or just don't bother saying you will. Life has insulted us enough and the last thing we need is your empty promises in a time where emptiness is all we know. 

Help us remember our children. It is terrifying and horrible to find that as time goes on the vividness of our memories fade. The first time I went through my sons clothes I sat on my bed with his outfits for hours because they smelled just like him. That scent is starting to fade and it truly kills me. Not that anyone can stop the scent of my son fading from his clothes, but I don't ever get to put him back in them or make new memories with him, so keeping the ones that I do have alive is more important than words can explain.

You talking about our child isn't reminding us that they're gone. I have not once escaped these thoughts since his death, so please, don't think you're hurting me by asking about him. Acknowledging his life makes me smile because it is important for me to know others remember him, and if they never met him that they care how much he changed my life. Plus, it's the only thing that is ever on my mind anyways, but please do remember there is a huge difference between caring and being nosey, and yes, we can tell. 

Be patient. We're learning. I remember the first time I showered after his death. I didn't want to because it was one of the things on a long list of "firsts" after losing him. Taking the clothes off I last held him in. Showering for the first time knowing my arms would never hold him again. Eating for the first time. Driving for the first time. Everything feels wrong after losing a child. No matter how minuscule the task, we are now doing it with the weight of the world on our shoulders. Please don't get frustrated with us. We're not exaggerating, it really is this hard. 

There will always be something missing no matter what is going on around us. I'm thankful for the people that have tried to give me an escape from this nightmare, but going out and being around people is more often than not terrifying and does not make the constant ache for my son go away. Anxiety is crippling and the last place I want to feel that impending doom start to attack is in a crowd of random people. 

If you're close to us and met our child we know that you lost something too, but learning how to handle our own grief is hard enough. We aren't trying to be selfish or ignore your sadness. We just already don't know what to do with our own. 

We are trying. We don't know where we are trying to go or get to because we can't get to the only place we want to be, which is with our child, but we are trying. We don't want to wallow in misery or be filled with constant pain, however, we were thrown into a giant black hole filled with both and fighting to get out of that is unbelievably difficult. Don't add your judgement to this struggle, just offer a helping hand and if that means keeping your mouth shut as you extend it, then so be it. 

We need you to love us and believe in us. The quote that says "It takes a village to raise a child" should be re-worded as "It takes a village to help a grieving mother." Not that I want anyone and everyone in my business, however, I do want help acknowledging the struggle that presents its self when losing a child or infant without reason. There's so many misconceptions out there about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome and Sudden Unexplained Infant Death Syndrome. My son wasn't smothered by a blanket or put in a crib with a bunch of pillows or other frowned upon belongings. He was in a safe place and I was told that they literally have no idea why he died. Doctors and most people in general don't talk about these "syndromes" and there's not munch funding going towards research. I want to save as many people as possible from knowing what this pain is like, but since most people don't know, they also don't care to actively pursue cures. Help us raise awareness about the mysterious monster who stole our child. It means the world... 

I know I can't speak for every mother out there because every situation is different. I just want to help, because at this point it's one of the only things I can do to honor my son. I've shared a lot of very private things on this blog because I will not sugar coat the reality of my loss. I want my son to bring good things to this world, but it's up to me to make that happen and never let his name be forgotten. When I say I will never give up on doing that, I mean each and every word. 

I love you, Bosty. This week is going to be hard. Tuesday will mark 12 weeks since you left me and also the day you would have turned into one incredibly loved 5 month old. I can only imagine, and trust me I try to all the time. I'll be sending you some balloons. I hope you smile. I cannot wait for the day I see you again and pray that I will find you've been watching how hard I am fighting to keep going, and that you can tell me if your big brothers balloons actually always "win." Q and I need you more than ever so please, please, send those angels to watch over us.

Thinking of you always and constantly praying you know exactly how much we love you. Sweet dreams my angel baby, and all of my love.

Maybe one day we'll find that place where you and I could be together. And we'll catch our dreams within the waves of change. So smile for me one last time and believe that we'll meet again. Until then, I'll be missing you." 

- R. M. Drake