On Being Honest.

I am so torn on where I am. I try to be open, but I know that I mostly am not. I talk to people, but I don't really talk to people. I go on like I'm fine, and a lot of days I am. But on the days that I am not, I find it hard to reach out or to say anything because I feel like a burden, like others have moved on and don't want to have hard conversations. So a lot of what is on my mind just stays there. Before everybody screams out and says "You know you can talk to me!", I probably do know that I can. I just I don't know how to bring it up, or even what to say.
I can try to lay it out. I feel like in terms of grieving, I'm doing kind of okay? I know how I feel (sometimes like absolute crap) but I also feel lucky in a way. I know why my Gavin died. I understand it. That does not make it easy, but at least I don't have those unanswered questions. I don't have the guilt. There literally was nothing I could have done to change it, and believe me, in a weird way that helps. I have this one feeling that helps me and developed a lot from my job, and have always been hesitant to say it because I feel pretty heartless. Maybe it won't make anybody think so, but it makes me feel like a terrible person. My therapist (yeah, I have one.) says I should get it out because it might help somebody else who may need that perspective. So I'll try to explain it more than just the simple version I gave to her- go easy on me.
While Gavin's death is the most horrible heartbreaking and painful thing I have ever experienced- it was a blessing for him.
Good grief, I feel terrible that I even just wrote that. I'll try to explain.
If Gavin had lived any longer, his life would have been so hard for him. He would have been very sick, and had uncontrollable seizures, probably problems breathing and eating, he would never have been able to do more than sit up, and I can't even think of the pain he would have had. I can't think of the pain he probably did have. I didn't want him to die, and if he had lived I truly believe we would have been the best parents he could have ended up with. It was never a question, we would have done whatever he needed. But how do you wish for that? How could I wish for another day, week, month with my baby when I know how hard it would have been for him? It would be selfish of me. I do have some seriously selfish days. I have why the fuck did this happen to us days. I have very very angry days. But for my Gavin, I feel peace.
In my line of work, I learned quickly that death can be a blessing. Just not for those left behind.

Speaking of anger earlier, I have a lot of it. It's totally corny, but they say you find out who your friends are. For us, it's more like you find out who your family is. I might go on a rant here, and it's very specific people. If you think it's you, I'd guarantee it's probably not. I doubt these ones would care enough to read this. I don't want to tear anybody down, and I do know that everybody grieves differently. But is it too much to ask for some to grieve at all? I mean, your first grandchild. You should care. You should have cared enough to show up more than once, and maybe once ask how we are. You should care enough to be mad that your sister was 2 blocks away at home during the funeral, and just didn't come. (Believe me, I'm mad) I realize the family way is to pretend stuff doesn't happen, but that will not be the case here. He was not a thing or a happening that will be swept under the rug like he didn't exist. He's my son. Your grandson. Your nephew.
He fucking matters.

I don't know if some relationships are fixable anymore. I don't know that I can go seeking people out and telling them what they did wrong in my eyes. I can't ask for an apology. I can't keep reminding them that I had a son. That was a little more harsh than I intended, but it needed to get out so I'm leaving it. For now anyways. I'll probably feel bad later and take it down, but I needed to say it. I hadn't noticed so far, but I think today is one of those angry days.

To My Boy

Gav,
It's the middle of the night.
I can't sleep.
Not unusual, I don't sleep much these days.
But tonight, my heart hurts. Freaking hurts.
I miss my baby. I miss you.
I know deep down that you're better,
that you have no pain, no suffering,
and gosh what more could I wish for!
But Little Bug, I'm not better.
I hurt.
It's 3:12 am.
I should be cuddling you, in the big comfy
chair I picked out just for us to cuddle in,
I shouldn't be sitting here crying.
But there's a big Gavin-shaped hole
in my life, and nothing else will fit.
I wish more than anything that
we could have another cuddle
right now and that I could give you enough
kisses to last an eternity,
but I know eventually
that day will come.
Until then, I'll love you forever.
Thanks for being mine.
I love you.
Mom

there's a little boy who holds my heart :)

Knocked Up, Knocked Down

I should have had a 4 month old yesterday. I often wonder when I'll stop counting. 
My normal is not normal. My normal is heavy. It's exhausting. It hurts. 
I don't fit in where I used to. 
I'm angry. How does everything manage to go on, when my son does not? 
How come there is no book like What to Expect When You Didn't Get What You Were Expecting? Where are the instructions for people that don't know how to just be? 
When does it hurt the most? Finally, a question with an easy answer. In the car, all alone. Music makes me think. Silence makes me think more. When I see babies, especially boys. When I see the For Sale sign in my yard, and realize I will have to take his name off of the nursery wall... and it won't be put back up. When people ask "What's wrong?" or "How are you?" and I answer with "nothing" or "fine". The short answer: always.
It drives me crazy that people don't know or care that he existed. The little boy that is the biggest part of my life, to others means nothing. I see him as my son, others see him as a painful trigger. 
My mind is tormented, every day brings a different thought on what to do next. Even if I could have another baby, can you imagine that pregnancy? I don't see how I would make it through. The constant anxiety and fear that something could be going terribly wrong... 
All innocence in that sense has totally been lost. 

"Don't let anyone stop you from being exactly who and how you need to be.  Do not stop.  Do not stop.  Get up, stand up, throw those fucking hands up.  Push out the night.  Hide from the daylight.  Embrace your endless, enraging tears for your child, your daughter, your son, your big sticky stinky shitting fucking life.

It's true, it really does suck this much, and it always will.  Always always always.  It will always suck exactly this much that you and me and my wife and your grandparents and our siblings lost a life that was going to be amazing." - glow in the woods

Gavin. It means Little Hawk. Or Battle Hawk, in the Welsh meaning. I didn't look this up until after his life, but it fits. His main NICU nurse told me that before he died she thought he looked like he was ready to fly away, and fly away my little hawk did. 

Most of the time when I'm bored at work, I find myself surfing the internet. I'm usually reading about one of two topics. EMS or baby loss. While sometimes it is totally depressing to make myself think about things, other times it is also therapeutic. I don't think I know anybody in my personal life that truly understands where I'm at right now. The fact that I really have nobody that "gets it" leads to a lot of small meltdowns. But on the internet... I fit in. I'm sadly welcomed in. There are stories similar to mine and some far more heartbreaking. But they know my words. They speak them even before I do. It's a horrible bond, but a comforting one. I know some of them read here, and I read there, and I'm so very thankful for them.

One site, faces of loss, shows such normal women and shares their stories. Some are so incredibly close to mine. Another shares stories just through words. I found words tonight from an unnamed mother that are so incredibly dead-on for me that I need to post it here so I don't lose it. I don't see it as profound or sentimental as some seem to be, this one is just real. These are the words I can't find to explain to people. These are almost the exact words I said to my Gavin the night before he died, when I had to tell him that everything would be okay and I accepted why he needed to leave me. 

I told her how sorry I was and that I loved her and did not want her to suffer. I would rather suffer every day for the rest of my life than to allow her to suffer one moment in her life.
~Mom of an Angel

I'll take pain and suffering a million times over when it means that he doesn't have to. 

~K

Sadly?!

Somebody posted on facebook this morning, "Sadly had to watch my son turn 1 this week".
I realize life is not all about me, and people generally don't care about what I think but seriously?! Could you not find a different way to phrase that? If you're reading here, let me teach you something I learned from being a mother for just 12 days. Your child's birthday is not sad. Sad is watching your son die. Sad is knowing your son will never turn 1. Or any other number for that matter.
I realize the poster just worded it poorly and I hope was not actually sad about it, but I generally think before I post on facebook, and wonder if my post is going to hurt anyone or offend someone when I didn't mean for that to happen. If you're going to post stupid shit like that, just remove me from your friends list. I work pretty hard at being normal and when I fail it's usually my own fault, so I don't really need anybody else causing the bad moments for me.

Truth.

"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died -- you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift."
--Elizabeth Edwards