Just when it seems that life is moving forward smoothly, and my days are filled with the wonder and joy of my dear rainbow, something out of left field comes careening in and wrecks me. About a week ago, my little guy was standing at the end of our sofa, drooling and being his cute self. He turned around and walked about five steps toward our back door as if he did it every day of his life! I was standing approximately a foot to a foot and a half from him, and all I could do was scream out, “O my goodness!” followed by a series of sobs and free-flowing tears. My little boy, the infant I swaddled only a few months ago, it seems, the sunshine of my life took his first steps on his own! And while there is no greater joy than witnessing these amazing milestones, there is also such anguish for the loss parent. His brother never got to take his first steps here on earth. His brother will never do the wondrous and life-changing things Homer is preparing himself to experience. It is heart-breaking to be an excited, doting mommy to a precocious almost-one-year-old, and an angel-baby at the same time. Yes, I missed out on Rowan walking for the first time (or doing anything for the first time), but even more heart-wrenching than that, Rowan missed out on walking for the first time. This is what wrecks me. He missed out on the good there is in the world, the joy, the day to day, the all-encompassing experience that is life. And while I obviously mourn what I have lost as his mother, which is immeasurable, I mourn what he has missed, as well.
Luckily, I get to love on this beautiful, angelic face each and every day! He is my saving grace when those curve balls come a little too close for comfort. My prayer is that Homer knows how much joy he brings in just being. I pray he will always know. I pray my firstborn knows how much he is missed and cherished, too.
Have you had any experiences or moments in parenting after loss that have brought you similar anguish? What coping strategies have you used to work through them? I’d appreciate hearing your experiences!
When Gus started potty training, it was really hard on me. Here we were potty training a child, when we should have been potty training twins (Gus has a twin that died at 9w, and our first pregnancy was b/g twins). So, on top of potty training a single child instead of 2, the process of finding out what motivated Gus to potty train was difficult. Would the same things have worked for Oscar, Bella and Tittle? If not, what different techniques would we have used with them? In the end, I just needed to remind myself that while Oscar, Bella and Tittle never got the chance to potty train, Gus did, so I was going to focus on him, the little boy standing in front of me in his big boy underwear asking for his M&M for going in the potty.
After 5 years of treatments and failed adoptions, we were finally blessed w twin boys – a dream come true. One was stillborn after dying of IUGR from a failing placenta. Most people who knew never offered acknowledgement of his life, much less condolences for his death. We cremated him and had a small service at the chapel where we were married, and one relative, upon hearing us mention “the funeral” a couple weeks later, said “oh, did a friend of yours die?” No, OUR SON DIED! One friend sent flowers, one person at work said she heard we lost him with a “thats too bad” look on her face, and 4 people sent cards. Those are so cherished. And even after all of the pain from feeling forsaken and isolated on top of the pain from losing our son, the most horrendous pain of all is not for us, but for him. He missed out. He is in Heaven now, and that is wonderful, but I wanted him here, with us, experiencing everything that life has to offer. He was supposed to live a full life with the rest of us before he died.