Tag Archives: grieving mother

I’m gonna love you

I just heard this song for the first time tonight and I’m a puddle.  Such powerful lyrics with a message that I know all too well.

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Memory

Another thing that comes along with grief is lack of memory. Again, I don’t know if you just stop paying attention to everything or if you just don’t care anymore. I always prided myself on having an excellent memory. Parker’s has always been terrible (unless it’s driving directions or automobile related), so I’ve always had to depend on my own memory to keep everything straight. Sure I had a calendar and reminders on my phone, but once I wrote something down, I committed it to memory too.

I’m better than I was a year ago, but it’s as if the memory part of my brain broke and whoever put it back together again forgot a part. It feels like I can no longer store or process all of the ‘stuff’ that goes on daily. The fogs lifted a bit, but I still can’t see clearly.

This is why I needed to blog all of my Benny memories before Fletch was born because I was so scared I would forget or get the boys confused. I still so frequently call Fletch Benny and I’m scared that I will interlace their babyhoods and confuse them. I needed that written history to keep them separate.

This is why Fletch still sleeps in our room. I’m scared to move him into Benny’s room. Sure, the crib has been down for awhile (Darcy’s using it as a headboard) and sure it’s cluttered with baby crap, but it also holds my Benny memories. His name is still up on the wall and his clothes are still in the dresser. It’s the one part I cannot bring myself to change.

It was so hard cleaning out his room last winter. We really hadn’t been in there much since the construction started, but I needed to start sorting baby items. Well, mice had gotten in through the attic opening, so I knew it was time to take down the crib and do a thorough cleaning. We gave Darcy the crib as a headboard and were making good headway until we happened upon hid shoes. I was alone when that happened and just lost it and knew that there was no way I could touch his dresser.

I’ve gone through all of his old clothes from birth to 24 months and have bags full that will someday get made into blankets for us. I couldn’t put Fletcher in them, thank goodness we have friends that have hand me downs. His dresser still sits full with the clothes that were in there the day he died. Untouched now for nearly 23 months.

I don’t know what to do about it. I’m afraid if I move Fletch into that room then I will lose my Benny memories, or confuse them with Fletcher memories. Fletch could probably use his own space. My therapist says I should split the room and try to make space for both, but it’s such a small room and I don’t think there’s room for another dresser. Besides, I’m nothing if not practical and it will make me nuts to have a dresser that we don’t use in such a small space.

So instead the room sits empty. I have no answers. We made that room for Benny when he was born. He didn’t move in until he was 6 months old because it took us so long to finish, but it’s his room. I don’t want new memories in there to cloud my memories of him.

We hope to move eventually, but for the short term, there are no answers. Benny bunked with us for 6 months, I suppose that gives me roughly 3 more months to try and figure this out.

Meh

One of the things you commonly read about concerning grief is the lack of energy that you feel, how the grief can just zap you and leave you feeling empty. I’ve been feeling that way for nearly 2 years now.

I am one of the lucky ones that has a baby that sleeps pretty well (way better than his siblings slept). I have a very independent 6 year old that is willing to do just about anything to help me out. Parker would do anything for me. Why am I still so damn exhausted??

I used to have energy! I used to be super busy! I used to work 30 hours a week! I’m not sure if this whole thing has just forced me to slow down, if I just don’t care anymore, or if the grief is bleeding me dry. I used to be a machine, I was on top of everything, now it feels as if everything is on top of me. Most of the time it doesn’t even bother me, which is scary!!

It’s the ‘grief me’. This person that doesn’t get very stressed or bogged down. I used to love getting involved in the details, now I can take or leave it.

I’m not sure who this person is anymore. Pieces of me are fading away. Things I always wanted to do no longer interest me. I don’t think that I’m depressed in the clinical sense, just feeling meh about things. Maybe meh is OK for now. Maybe meh is my new black. I’m not sure it fits me, but who is ‘me’ now anyway? All of that changed when Benny died.

So for now, I’m just rolling with it. Maybe I’m not going to set the world on fire right now and that’s OK. At least it is right now in my ‘meh’ stage. Perhaps I should have had more meh in my life before. Maybe this is normal.

17 Days of Benny – Day 13

Day 13 – Month 13

By the time Benny was 13 months old he was giving us a full on run for our money.  He was completely mobile, standing, walking, it was like it all happened overnight.  He was constantly climbing everything and anything that he could.  He spent so much of his time trying to be like the big kids.  His vocabulary was incredible for such a young guy.  We tried signing, but he refused.  We’re pretty sure that his first word was either ‘cat’ or ‘that’.  It was hard to tell and he always pointed.  Of course he said ‘Darc’ all of the time.  He was a comedian and enjoyed entertaining all of us.  It was so hard to get mad at him because he was so amusing.

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T Minus 3 Weeks

I am officially in the home stretch.  I’m whale huge and uncomfortable and feel so unprepared for this new little one.  I mean, clothes are washed and organized, diapers and wipes are purchased.  The house is still construction chaos, but we are used to that by now.  We only work well on deadlines.

I’m unprepared emotionally.  I’ve had to go through all of the baby stuff again.  Most of it was hand me downs or from Darcy, so I have to say it’s been fun seeing that again.  The stuff that was truly Benny’s though, it sucks.  A piece of me dies each time we come across his shoes, or his hats or his toys that have been away.  I don’t even know where to begin with this stuff.  His dresser remains the same, an untouched mausoleum to a 17 month old boy.  I know it’s only things, but they were his things.

I’ve looked at this situation so much from Darcy’s perspective, but now as I get closer to holding this little man in my arms, I’m overwhelmingly sad for him.  He will never know his older brother.  They will never meet, besides my dreams.  They will never play together, or laugh or argue.  He will know him only through pictures and stories.  I’ve thought so much about what Darcy lost, but never really much about what Fletcher will never know.  I’m so sad for him.

I’m worried about how overwhelming it will be to hold Fletcher in my arms for the first time.  I’m scared about being in a hospital setting for any of this.  I truly hope that St. V’s will honor our wishes for a natural birth.  I’m scared for all that could go wrong, even though I’ve had two perfect deliveries.  There are no guarantees and that is what frightens me the most.

Connecting the Dots

Today I had a doctor’s appointment and I was talking to the nurse who taking my blood pressure, weight, etc.  She was talking about how she lived near me and how awful our hill is in the winter.  Of course at this point in the conversation I’m wondering if she knows ‘our story,’ but this is a fleeting thought as we continue to talk.

I have to admit that she looked familiar, but I figured that I had just seen here there before.  We’re chatting away when she stops and looks at me says that she doesn’t really know how to say this, but she was there, in the road with me the day of the accident.  She was one of the nurses that gave Bennett CPR.  I didn’t know what to say, I was completely caught off guard.  I had known that there were 3 people to do CPR on Benny, but it was all such a blur.  The police had no information for us on who was involved and we found the others on our own.

About a month after the accident, my sister found an article from the T&G that interviewed this nurse that had been on the scene of the accident.  Quite honestly, I had no idea that she had been involved at all until after the fact and I had contacted her to thank her.  She was the only person that I had still not met.  Until today.  I got to hug her and tell her how thankful we were that she stopped to help us, to help Bennett.  She said she would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Just another amazing stranger.  A hero among many that showed up for us that day.  How amazing for her to cross my path over a year later.  I have to think that this is the work of a little blue eyed angel.