Our 18 month old son died when my car hit him and myself in my driveway. The easiest way to explain to people is ‘car accident’ even though he was outside of the car upon his death. As a family we just refer to it as ‘The Accident.’
Ever have one of those days where your support system bails for whatever reason? Maybe they’re sick, perhaps busy. Whatever the case is, they’re not there. And you’re all alone. Overwhelmed. Slowly going crazy. Maybe they’re right next to you and just completely clueless.
I’m in one of my moods where I just want to hop in my car and drive. I don’t necessarily have a destination in mind, but just want to get away by myself. Feel the wind in my hair and sing along with the radio.
I want to feel connected to something. I want to be able to feel something beyond crazed and harried. I would love to take a deep breath and feel silence around me. I want to step off the perpetual roller coaster that has become my life.
I want to sit down and think. I want to wrap my mind around Benny and his life and marinate in that for awhile. I want to pay him some much deserved attention and spend some time with him.
I want to hold my daughter like she hasn’t been held in what seems like too long. I want to snuggle her and breathe in her scent and memorize every detail of her smile.
It would be so nice to have all the time to just sit and play with Fletch. I wish that I could devote hours to reading and ball and floor play. I wish I had more patience when he pushes me just over the edge like he does so well.
What I wouldn’t give for some sleep. In a bed. By myself. I’m not greedy, a four hour stretch will do. To be asleep before 3 AM would be a dream.
I know it’s just a moment in time right now. This too shall pass and things will calm down. But just for a moment to dream…
Even though you’re gone, I can feel you.
You were a part of me for nine months, and I watched you grow for seventeen, that doesn’t just end.
I feel your happiness in the sunflowers that now fill my home. I didn’t intentionally add them, they just started showing up as gifts through others, probably your doing.
I see your face, from baby to toddler smiling back at me from our walls. It’s as if you are watching over us with those bright blue eyes.
I touch your blanket and surround myself in its warmth. It reminds me of your snuggles.
I see your name, just about everywhere, from tv credits to magazines. It is still in block letters in your room and now your brother’s name has also been added to your wall.
I see your likeness in your brother and sister. Both physically and emotionally, they have little pieces of you that they will carry on.
I hear your crazy laughter still in my memories. I’ve never met a happier boy.
As much as I miss you, I know you’re still here, all around us. That doesn’t end.
Fletch is not feeling well.
He’s whiny (more than usual) and running a slight fever. It’s most likely teeth, but now I panic.
He’s finally sleeping AND napping and doing it well. It’s like he’s a new baby. He won’t settle tonight though and is uncomfortable, which tells me he’s not feeling so hot. That and he really didn’t eat much at dinner.
I’m scared. This is the first time that he’s really been sick. I’m writing this with him in my arms as I try to convince myself that he will be ok tonight.
No one likes seeing their child sick. I don’t like where my thoughts go, how paranoid I get. This is what happens. There’s no trust that something awful won’t happen.
I think it’s become worse now that he’s older. Every day we creep closer to him hitting 17 and a half months. I cannot bubble wrap him and stick him in a helmet. He’s going to get sick, he’s going to get hurt, it’s just so tough not to completely fall apart when it happens.
It’s time to pause and just breathe.
So I did some googling tonight as to the history of Mother’s Day because I was curious how it all started.
A woman by the name of Anna Jarvis held a memorial ceremony in May of 1908 three years after her mother’s death. She wanted to celebrate her mother’s life and all that she had done for her children. She was honoring her late mother.
Anna’s mother Ann Reeves Jarvis had had thirteen children over the course of her life. Seven of her children had died before Anna was born. Seven. She was a bereaved mother.
Because of a lot of hard work on Anna’s part, the US recognized Mother’s Day as an official holiday in 1914.
For those of you missing your moms today, this holiday was started for you. For those of you missing your children today, this holiday was also started for you. It was grief that brought forth this effort to create a day just for Mom’s.
So when you think of Mother’s Day, don’t just associate it about being for those that are here. It began for those that are not. Happy Mother’s Day!