Dispelling the Myth…

It’s all about milestones for my 2 little rainbows today. Hope reaches exactly 2 & 1/2 and Grace 4 months. A pair that I can’t ever imagine one being without the other. Routine is established and the wheel of life keeps turning. I hold my head high in the best possible way with a smile.

The truth is people assume your fixed once you have another baby. The baby that died is just a moment in time which is now past and let’s not mention it. Sure I have two little girls to focus on and Patrick like Zac should fade in to a forgotten memory.

You see after Abbie was born in 2006 nobody ever mentioned that tiny little baby boy who spent a fleeting moment in our lives and was laid to rest in his forever bed not far from our home. I assumed at the time that was just the way. People lost babies mid pregnancy and it was never talked about again. Although my heart was broken I was left to conceal my feelings and hide my tears and walk this lonely road of baby loss alone.

I had been blessed with a healthy baby girl and that should be enough. He was never really talked about again outside our home despite the returning visits to his forever bed on every calendar occasion.

Now with Hope & Grace I get, they are beautiful, you look so happy, they’ll be the best of friends, you are lucky, they are lucky to have each other to grow up with. Then there’s the deafening silence while I wait to hear his name being said… and nothing… no whisper, no mention, no acknowledgment of Patrick. The silence is almost as deafening as the silence in the delivery room when I birthed him into this world.

Yes my girls are beautiful, but do you not notice Hope is the double of Patrick?? You look so happy?? Do I?? I mask it well, the huge piece of me that’s missing. They’ll be the best of friend’s. Yes, I hope they will but they are missing the influence of a slightly older brother for play, giggles & sibling rivalry. You are Lucky …. am I that lucky that my perfectly healthy baby boy died???

This is what I face daily, the undertone of what people assume is my life. The reality is another baby or babies does not replace the baby you have lost. My grief for my son has not changed I’m just better at managing it. My grief will never leave me, my nightmares will always haunt me. My heart will never heal. My girls will help take the edge off the pain but I will never get over the life that was lost, his little life I had planned, the dreams and aspirations I had for him.

I will also live with the unanswered question of why me, why us, why my son.

If I was to find the best words to describe my grief these are them, from another bereaved mother so eloquently put.

The best way I can describe grieving over a child as the years go by is to say it’s similar to carrying a stone in your pocket.

When you walk, the stone brushes against your skin. You feel it. You always feel it. But depending on the way you stand or the way your body moves, the smooth edges might barely graze your body.

Sometimes you lean the wrong way or you turn too quickly and a sharp edge pokes you. Your eyes water and you rub your wound but you have to keep going because not everyone knows about your stone or if they do, they don’t realize it can still bring this much pain.

There are days you are simply happy now, smiling comes easy and you laugh without thinking. You slap your leg during that laughter and you feel your stone and aren’t sure whether you should be laughing still. The stone still hurts.

Once in a while you can’t take your hand off that stone. You run it over your fingers and roll it in your palm and are so preoccupied by it’s weight, you forget things like your car keys and home address. You try to leave it alone but you just can’t. You want to take a nap but it’s been so many years since you’ve called in “sad” you’re not sure anyone would understand anymore or if they ever did.

But most days you can take your hand in and out of your pocket, feel your stone and even smile at its unwavering presence. You’ve accepted this stone as your own, crossing your hands over it, saying “mine” as children do.

You rest more peacefully than you once did, you’ve learned to move forward the best you can. Some days you want to show the world what a beautiful memory you’re holding. But most days you twirl it through your fingers, smile and look to the sky. You squeeze your hands together and hope you are living in a way that honors the missing piece you carry, until your arms are full again.

– Jessica Watson – https://fourplusanangel.com/

💙Remembering forever our boys

Patrick 16th February 2016

Zac 20th January 2005💙

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