You are loved

I am kind of at a loss for words today. The last couple weeks the weight of my sons death seems to be crushing me. I've read that you can literally die from a broken heart. I'm kind of surprised I haven't. It has been 10 weeks since I last held my son and I would give anything to be able to do so again, even just one more time. 

I remember the morning I dropped him off at daycare. He had a snotty nose, but the only thing that seemed to bother him was when I used the rubber suction ball to get some of it out. As usual my 3 year old, who is not a morning person, cried from the moment I woke him up until we arrived at their daycare ladies house. Boston was a truly funny little boy. I would pack him up in his car seat and bring both of them downstairs. Quinton always insisted I put him in the car first so I would set Boston right by the door, quickly buckle Q into his car seat and run back in to get my Bosty. He would always have what his daycare lady and I call "the crunchy eyebrow look" on his face. There is no way to describe it so here are a few pictures. 

The funny faces he made were my most favorite thing on this earth. After arriving at their daycare and bringing them inside, I kissed Bosty's forehead a few times, gave Q a hug, and told their daycare lady that I was pretty happy that my mother was the one taking him to get his first shots that afternoon because I recall what a mess I was when Quinton got his. I told them I loved them and would see them later, and then I left.

It truly kills me to say I have now been without my son for longer than I had him. Not a day goes by that I don't constantly wonder why his perfect little self was taken from me. On Saturday the 24th, the day that marked Boston being gone for as long as he was here, my family and close friends released balloons in his memory. It was beautiful to have the people that know just how much was lost the day that he died there with me to help send my Bosty some love. 

I was going to write a blog on the 24th, but couldn't bring myself to do it. This is what I shared on Facebook that day. 

Well my darling fatboy, today is the day. I have now been without you for as many days as I had you. I am heart broken. Truly, completely, and utterly heart broken. Since you left I have clung tightly to knowing I had you for longer than you'd been gone. I no longer get to do that. I have cursed this day and begged that it not come, but here it is. I truly hope you're up there smiling and blowing spit bubbles, and that heaven is everything you deserve. Today I'm pretty mad at the angels that welcomed you because it just wasn't supposed to happen this way. You are supposed to be here with me. I am supposed to be laughing at those spit bubbles. My heart is supposed to be smiling at your beautiful face. Instead, I am left here silently screaming at how much this hurts. Do the angels tell you about me and how much I love you? Do they let you know just how much you are wanted? I 

think that is one of the hardest parts, not knowing. Mothers are supposed to protect and guide their children and I just can't comprehend that I don't know if YOU know just how much I ache to do that. 

I would never wish a single moment of sadness upon you, but I do hope you know that you have a mommy here on earth that misses you each second of the day. There is a gigantic and ruthless cloud that follows me around. It scares me, it taunts me, and it makes my life so very hard. That cloud came when you left, and now it will not leave no matter how much I beg it to disappear and give you back to me. I want you back. I want to know that you're okay. I want to kiss your fat cheeks. I want to sit with you in my arms for hours. I want to play with your silly hair. I want you next to me so that I can keep you safe, because that is how it should be. You here with me. Please come visit me in my dreams, Bosty. I need something besides this nightmare.

I don't think many people realize that this is not just a story, this is my life. My son was not some imaginary baby, I am not an imaginary mother. I am real. He is real. Our pain is real. He may not physically be on this earth anymore but that will never alter how significantly he changed our lives. Losing a child is not something anyone can wrap their minds around, even going through it myself I do not understand. I'm not sure how many people take our situation seriously. I constantly talk about my son and a lot of people don't know what to say, or get very uncomfortable when I do talk in

 detail about him. All I can say is I know that there's not many words one can say to actually comfort me, but at one point I hadn't ever lost a child either. Now I have, and I will never give up on keeping his memory alive. 

"The one who put gentle footprints on our hearts leaves a story worth telling." 

 

9 weeks

Today has been one of the hardest days yet. I'm not sure why. I will never be the same, and I don't think that very many people understand that. It is very hard to go through something that is incomprehensible, even to me. There is no manual to tell you how to handle losing a child. I do not understand, I won't ever, I will not find peace, and I will never accept Boston's death. There is a quote that says "When a child is born, so is the mother." That is very true. Yes, I had already given birth to one child, but when Boston was born, a new me was also. Twice the work, twice the time, twice the love. So, when Boston died, I did too. The mother I had just became went with him and while I am ever so grateful for his big brother, half of me is literally missing. The parts of me that existed before Boston are still there, but when he was born the already present parts were moved to one side to make room in the other half of me just for my little fatboy. That half of me was meant to be filled with a lifetime of memories, that half of me was ment to hold him, to love him, and was solely dedicated to him. When my son was pronounced dead and the time came to hand him to the detective and leave, I did not just place my son in his arms, but half of myself. It is kind of like I'm having to learn how to walk, talk, and breathe again without all of the things I need to do so, and I don't even want to because it sucks and it hurts and it is just so hard. I know how much better life was and how much happier I was and could be with him here. There are no words to accurately describe how difficult this is. Challenges and new beginnings are typically started to bring yourself to a better place, this challenge does not bring that for me. I am being forced by life to keep going and learning how to walk, talk, and breathe again is just a means of survival, but a very reluctant one. I love Boston's big brother so much, but they balanced me. The half of me that's left wants and needs to take care of Quinton, but without the other half it is now a scary process and nothing works right anymore. I have said it many times since he left and will many more, I am lost. Literally lost. In grocery stores, at work, at home. I can't seem to find where I'm supposed to go because what is left of me just wants to search for what use to be there, but it can't and won't ever be found. On May 24th of last year I found out I was pregnant with him. On May 24th of this year Boston will have been gone for as long as he was here. Time can be so cruel. The 68 days with him flew bye. The days without him have been long and grueling but yet I am still shocked each time another Tuesday rolls around or the calendar brings yet another month since he left me. This date is different though. I have never wanted to stop time so badly. I do not want the 24th to come. I only had 68 days with him but he is still so alive in my heart. That date to me is like a monster. One that at first represented new life. Now it just taunts me. It is a terrible reminder that I am not in control and the legacy of my sons 68 days on this earth are being replaced with 68 days without him and that brings yet another giant wave of terrifying emotions that I didn't even know we're possible, and that I would give anything not to know. I constantly wonder if I am doing enough to keep his memory alive but he is the only person I want to answer that question. I hope you're watching, Boston. I hope you hear each time I speak your name, hope my constant thoughts of you make you smile, I hope each time I play your song you rest easier, and most of all I hope you feel all the love I have for you. This love was meant just for you and no matter how much easier it would be to give if you were here, I won't ever stop and it will never weaken. That is a promise. I miss you so, so much. I constantly worry about you. I'm not sure if that sounds crazy since the worst has already happened, but it's not over for me and won't be for a very long, long time. I am your mommy and I pray whatever angels surround you know just how special you are, because I did and if they get to have you instead of me, they better be doing a damn good job. I'm not usually one to think that what happens is always what's meant to be, but I know that I was meant to be your mom and I will do so proudly for the rest of my life. I love you Chubbles, until the end of time. And even after that. 

My mom, she tells a lot of lies. She never did before. 

But from now until she dies,

She'll tell a whole lot more.

Ask my mom how she is,

And because she can't explain, 

She will tell a little lie 

Because she can't describe the pain. 

Ask my mom how she is, 

She'll say that she's alright. 

If that's the truth, then tell me, 

Why does she cry each night? 

Ask my mom how she is, 

She seems to cope so well. 

She doesn't have a choice, you see. 

Nor the strength to yell. 

Ask my mom how she is, 

"I'm fine, I'm well, I'm coping." 

For God's sake mom, just tell the truth. 

Just say your heart is broken.

She will love me all her life. 

I sure loved her all of mine, 

But if you ask her how she is 

She'll lie and say she's fine.

I am here in Heaven, 

I cannot hug her from here. 

If she lies to you, don't listen. 

Hug her and hold her near.

On the day we meet again, 

We'll smile and I'll be bold. 

I'll say, "You're lucky you got here mom, 

With all the lies you told"

-Author Unknown

Hell on earth

This is all so wrong. When am I going to stop thinking my son is coming back? His death is all too real yet at the same time I find myself thinking that at some point someone is going to give him back to me. That he will just reappear in my life and I will be able to breathe again. I cannot believe its been two months. How did I get here and where have the days gone? I replay his life and death constantly in my head. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to hate every day I wake up to realize this nightmare is not imaginary. This pain is ugly. It's draining and cruel and no matter how much I know I don't deserve to be dealing with this or how good of a person I try to be just doesn't matter, because it won't bring him back. There is no hallelujah at the end of this road. No moment that I will finally be filled with happiness because I do not ever get to feel what it's like to hold my son again. I have read that parents that lose their children say their arms literally ache for them and it is so true. My arms are starting to forget just how wonderful it felt to have him there and they are screaming at me to go pick him up, but I can't. I'm lost. It's been quite ironic in the most awful of ways to find out that without my child, who was to young to do anything on his own, I no longer know how to function. It's not like he could give me advice or tell me what I needed to do, I just knew. Now that's he's gone I don't know how to do anything and all I want is to ask him how I'm supposed to keep going with out him. When you have a baby you don't really have time to think, you just do what your supposed to do. Feed them, hold them, cuddle with them, calm them, talk to them, and love them. So what am I supposed to do now? What am I supposed to fill my days with? I have really struggled with getting myself to realize that I have to go on with life knowing that everything I'm doing isn't what I should be doing, because it would all be so different if he were here like he should be. It's truly terrifying and awful to spend each moment thinking of how wrong everything is. I want to relive his life and my life with him. If I had a remote I would replay those 68 days over and over again until I die. I truly loved being his mom and watching Quinton be such an amazing big brother. When I think about him I imagine what it would be like if I could have him back. Probably like one of those scenes in a movie where they run full force to embrace someone. 

That's all I want to do, run to him and tell him how awful this has all been and how much it hurts to even breathe now that he isn't. I have been sentenced to a life filled with pain, grief, and utter confusion. I just want my son, but no one can give him back to me and it hurts like hell.

"There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice."

"A mother is not defined by the number of children you see, but by the love she holds in her heart."

This week has been one from hell. I've had people ask me how I do it, and tell me that they're proud, and while it is ever so kind to say that, I am silently screaming on the inside. Can't I just be a normal mom? One that has both of her children with her and goes unrecognized? I don't want to have a dead child. I don't want people to be proud that I somehow still get out of bed each morning. I want to go back to normal. Normal as in both of my children falling asleep next to me each night. Normal as in waking up with Boston here, not having to dream of what he would look like. Normal as in not being anxiety stricken each moment of the day staring at the clock knowing that when 3:46 PM comes, I die inside a little more each time because that is when I was told my son could not be saved. When I think of the day he died and his funeral it's like I am watching from someone else's eyes. That wasn't me was it? I'm not that mom standing over her baby's casket, am I? I'm not the mom walking out of the hospital without her child? I'm not the mom driving away from the church where her baby's body is parked out front in a hearse? I'm not the mom going to pick up her sons ashes? Am I?
Oh, but I am. It was me. It was my son. I am now the mom that cringes when I walk past baby items at the store. I am now the mom that has to remind herself to breathe when seeing other mothers out in public with their two children. I am the mother who wants to cry each time I pick my son up from daycare, because I should be bringing two home, not just one.

I wish more than anything someone could send me a picture, just drop one down from heaven and let me see what my little fatboy would look like. I guess I have rare moments of very brief "strength" and feel like there's no way this pain will always be this intense, but then I think of the fact that my only hopes of seeing him will be when I die. I'm not really afraid of death anymore. I am constantly afraid of things happening to my loved ones, but knowing that I will die someday no longer frightens me. The scary part is life until then. What if I don't die until I'm 90? That would be 68 years without my son. 68 birthdays that would come and go without him here. Decades upon decades of holidays that I will spend all too aware that there should be one more precious face there to celebrate with. I never get to buy my son a birthday present. I never get to celebrate his first Christmas. I never get to hear him laugh. I don't care how many times I've been told that there's no way I could have known, or that I couldn't have done anything differently. I WANT A REDO. I want to go back to March 17th and just do something different. I don't even know what because it started like any other normal day, but I feel like there has to be something, even if it was the most minuscule thing, that could have been done to save me from the constant torture my life is now filled with. If there is one thing I know, it's that babies are not supposed to die.

I am very nervous for Wednesday. We are having a tree planted in his memory and I am going to bury some of his ashes with it. While I want to do this to honor him, I feel like I did when waiting for the day of his funeral to arrive. I know he's dead and all that's left are his ashes, but I don't want to put my baby in the ground. He does not belong there. That's why I decided to get him cremated. At first the thought of him being cremated made me feel like I myself was dying, but then I thought about how hard getting him buried would be. I did not want to go to bed each night knowing my sons body was somewhere besides home and all alone. Not that I don't understand other parents decisions, because I do, and there is no right from wrong when deciding where your child will "rest." I just know that each time I look outside it will scare me. Is he cold? What about when it's snowing or raining or storming? It's just not fair. WHY ISNT HE HERE WITH ME!? Who can I scream at and let know just how much living without him hurts? Every day I think it can't get any worse, but then I wake and the calendar marks another days start without the boy I thought I couldn't live with out.

As I was writing this I found out that a very close family friends nephew fractured his skull and is under going brain surgery. On Friday my sons grandpa died in a tragic motorcycle accident. Last week my grandpa was admitted to the hospital. On Tuesday someone that many of my friends knew committed suicide. On Thursday a precious little girl who's mother I know joined my son as an angel baby. When is enough, enough!? I always knew that people die, but I am so sick of death lurking right around the corner. I pray that Bosty is with my friends nephew, and that the ones no longer here embrace him for me. Life is far more fragile than I ever knew. I always thought I was someone who is optimistic, but that is no longer true. Tragedy has paralyzed me, and I don't think a day will ever come that worry doesn't rob me of joy.

There has been one question that seems to be stuck in my mind lately; Why didn't the world come running when my son died? People flood the news and social media with outrageous and senseless acts like " The Kylie Jenner Lip Challenge", celebrities doing minuscule every day things that no one should even care about, fights between reality "TV stars", rioting and "white verse black crime" that eggs on the racism that shouldn't even exist by pointing out race in any and every situation they can. So I am left here wondering if people all over the world can make huge deals out of ridiculous things THEN WHY DIDNT THEY COME RUNNING WHEN MY SON DIED? Or when any child does !? People don't seem to think twice about sharing and advocating their supposedly credible opinions about what some celebrity wore or why it's okay for people in Baltimore to destroy their city to prove a point because they've been "treated unfairly." Want to know what's unfair? I had to watch my beautiful son die. I have to live the rest of my life without him in a world that cares more about idiotic materialistic fads than the unexplainable deaths of children, and the explainable ones caused by abuse and neglect. The world pours over all of these fixable situations that wouldn't exist if each and every person on this earth realized that being genuinely good hearted and loving is far easier than being heartless and

narrow minded.

There's a cure for racism. There's not a cure for SIDS, or childhood cancers (except for chemotherapy which is grueling and harmful at the same time) or the far too long list of childhood diseases that claim the lives of way too many precious sons and daughters all over America and the world each year. So if you want to talk about unfair, why don't you talk about the forgotten mothers and fathers that get up each morning after having their child taken from them in a casket. If you want to get mad, get mad at the fact that people like the kardashians have millions upon millions of dollars at their disposal, but there's not enough funding or publicity to research and find cures to save children from dying. If you want to share something, share a picture of a child that's passed away because I promise you the only thing bereaved parents have to hold on to is the hope that their loved ones, friends, family, acquaintances, and the rest of the world do not let the fact that their child DID exist go unnoticed. Children are the future, help save them instead of contributing to the world falling apart. I didn't get to save my son, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to save anyone else from knowing what that feels like.

"The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider a duty to keep open; this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude." - Washington Irving, The Sketch Book.