Friday, December 28, 2012

Fed up

I'm fed up. With this life, with people, with holidays, with missing him constantly, with Mankato and hospitals...the list is long today. I'm tired of it seeming like there is only a tiny handful of people who truly miss him. I'm tired of imagining what he would be doing/looking like/smelling like/sounding like. I want to be with him instead. I'm tired of living in a world where you have to explain to people why it's sad that your baby has died. Why are people so incredibly lacking when it comes to empathy? They have sympathy for about 10 seconds and then it becomes this sort of irritation that I would be bothering them with his death, as if my pain and loss are an inconvenience to their lives. So sorry that my loss is hurting your perfect life where babies don't die and hearts don't break.

I'm just so tired.

Every day is just another day without him. We try to make the most of our life, but what does that even mean anymore?

It's really hard to parent a baby that's not here with you. I love him and try to do things to give extra special meaning to his life and nothing seems to go anywhere. I plan events, I do projects, I ask for help: it's all for naught. So I'm starting to wonder why I bother. We love him and his life is meaningful to us. Maybe that's enough.

When I'm really missing him a lot (read: today and everyday), I sing to him. I have zero clue if he can hear me, but really, who cares?

This is another thing I'm tired of...having no real idea what it's like for him now. Yes, I believe he is in heaven, but what does that mean? Is he a baby, a little boy, a spirit? I don't know. What does he do all day? Is someone taking care of him? I don't know. I try to imagine it and just get mad. I want to know more. I know there are all these books about people going to heaven and then coming back to tell all about it, but I don't really believe them. I don't think anyone really knows. Do you know what it's like to have no idea what your baby is doing at all times of every day? I do. It's maddening.

I just try my best to remember it's good. I just say that over and over: It's good. He's so happy. It's beautiful. Over and over.

Life would have been good if he hadn't died.

The following are from the blog, For the Love of baby Liam.

Have you Ever

Have you ever watched your child die?

Have you ever held his hand, feeling the life that grew within you slip away, breath by painful breath?

Have you ever kissed a cold gray cheek, knowing you will never kiss it again while helpless tears rolled down your own?

Have you ever left your child-the child you dreamed of, the child you love-knowing the next time you visit him, it will be at his grave?

Have you ever sat at your window at midnight waiting for sleep, waiting for any escape from a nightmare that won't go away, only to watch dawn bring nothing but reminders of what you will never have?

Have you ever watched the world forget the person you love the most saying "you'll have another one" or "move on" or "let go" as if he were a book or a pen, or a bad haircut that could be replaced or erased as if he didn't matter, as if he had never been?

Have you ever looked at your future knowing someone will always be missing? Have you ever looked at your past knowing some things can never be changed?  Have you ever looked at your present and felt nothing, saw nothing but guilt and anger and loss?

If you haven't - then don't tell me what to think. Don't tell me how to act.  Don't tell me how to feel.  Don't tell me to get over it... because I never will.

Part of Me...
I thought of you with love today, but that is nothing new.
I thought about you yesterday and the day before that too.
I think of you in silence. I often say your name.
But all I have are memories and your picture in a frame.
Your memory is my keepsake, with which I'll never part.
God has you in His keeping. I have you in my heart.
I shed tears for what might have been. A million times I've cried.
If love alone could have saved you, you never would have died.
In life I loved you dearly. In death I love you still.
In my heart you hold a place, no one can ever fill.
It broke my heart to lose you, but you didn't go alone.
For part of me went with you, the day God took you home.
I miss him <3


  1. James and I were talking this morning about what we did right and what we wish we could get to do over. We shed tears RaeAnne, 37 years later. We wish we had of taken pictures, but the thought grossed everyone out so we didn't. RaeAnne, just do everything YOUR WAY. Years later when you look back, you will never regret anything you did to mother your baby's memory your way. SAY things you want to say. I sure wish I had! I was quiet and passive, not wanting to upset anyone...very wrong move. James is JUST getting around to talking to me about how he really grieved. We are now speaking our children's names out loud. It is never to late to do what you want to for your child. Even after the burial. I know that year of "firsts" hurts like no one can imagine. I believe my children are still babies in heaven and they are perfect. That is just what i believe, but you are right, we don't know for sure. My email is in case you ever need it. My rainbow babies are grown. I am devoting my retired time to making a difference in the name of my babies like I wish I had done a long time ago. James and I think of you often. Your story touches us deeply.

  2. People who have never lost a child will NEVER understand. Grieve how you want...if they don't like it, oh well. I lost many friends (and even some family) after my little girl died. But it's those that stick around who will always remember your little man.

    Life WOULD be better if they hadn't died. Hugs to you.

  3. My heart aches for you both... but I'm relieved to see posts from others who can answer those horrible questions 'Yes', only to know that you may not feel SO alone and misunderstood.

    I held my son as he took his last breath, at three days old, almost 26 years ago. Sadly, there are too many of us that know the pain that you are both experiencing... and while it is different for all of us, it's similar. The loss of a child is something that I wish NO parent would ever have to experience. I've had some pretty rough streaks since then, and just for the record.. nothing even comes close to that level of hurt.

    It took a long time for me to function in a way that most people who even say resembles 'normal'... whatever that is. So don't compare yourself to anyone.. just be. Your grief and healing are yours alone. I didn't hold my best friends youngest two children when they were small... I just couldn't, I couldn't even be around them for a couple years. It is just so hard.. but those babies deserved my love too... the love of someone who will never take any child for granted.

    It takes time to allow that kind of joy for someone else, especially when your only child is an angel. For me it took MANY years, and it was 14 before I had my second son, Ben... who is now 11. He is awesome.

    My Nathan's father snapped, he is lost to this world, and was lost to me almost immediately. I'm so happy to hear that you two are clinging to each other and not tearing each other apart... too many times the loss of a child is the start of a series of loss that just adds salt to the wounds. I pray that passes over and you do not have to travel a darker path.

    Life would be better if Samuel were here.... but find in your faith somewhere... God will not waste your pain. Somewhere, some day, hopefully you will find SOMETHING positive that comes out of this. I did, it took some years and it took even longer for me to see that the compassion and strength it grew in me made ME a better person, mom, woman, servant of God. May you be blessed in such a way as well.

    You don't know me... but I have been praying for you all along. I know Bryan's parents and have asked about you - Al gave me the URL for your blog just this week and I have read almost every entry since. I feel your pain and share your tears... no, the hurt never is completely gone and every time you meet someone else who has lost a child you will grieve again.. thankfully the grief changes over time. it's never gone, just different.

    Love and God's peace to you both.

  4. I think every babyloss blog has at least one post that is exactly like this one. And it usually makes at least one person upset. Well, mine did. And that was the moment I accepted that my best and closest group of friends would always be 90% babyloss moms. We get it. If I can ever do anything from way down South, you let me know. Honestly.


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