For all the "angel" parents

WHAT WE WISH OTHERS UNDERSTOOD ABOUT THE LOSS OF OUR CHILD 1. I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was important, and I need to hear his name. 2. If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me; the fact that my child died has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry, and I thank you. Crying and...... emotional outbursts are healing. 3. I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing from your home his pictures, artwork, or other remembranc es. 4. I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn't think that if I have a good day my grief is all over, or that if I have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling. 5. I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately. It is the ultimate tragedy, and I wish you wouldn't compare it to your loss of a parent, a spouse, or a pet. 6. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. 7. I wish you knew that all of the "crazy" grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child. 8. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for us. As with alcoholics, I will never be "cured" or a "former bereaved parent," but will forevermore "be a recovering bereaved parent." 9. I wish you understood the physical reactions to grief. I may gain weight or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses, and be accident prone-all of which may be related to my grief. 10. Our child's birthday, the anniversary of his death, and holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are thinking about our child on these days, and if we get quiet and withdraw, just know that weare thinking about our child and don't try to coerce us into being cheerful. 11. It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values, and beliefs after losing a child. We will question things we have been taught all our lives and hopefully come to some new understanding with our God. I wish you would let me tangle with my religion without making me feel guilty. 12. I wish you wouldn't offer me drinks or drugs. These are just temporary crutches and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal. 13. I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I never will be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to "get back to my old self," you will stay frustrated. I am a new creature with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values, and beliefs. Please try to get to know the new me-maybe you"ll like me still. I believe that instead of sitting around and waiting for our wishes to come true, we have an obligation to tell people some of the things we have learned about our grief. We can teach these lessons with great kindness, believing that people have good intentions and want to do what is right, but just don't know what to do with us......

quick update

Sorry to leave you hanging. All three babies from the previous post are home and doing well. Thank GOD!

Is there such a thing as a HEALTHY baby?

Two weeks ago, my friend at work had a niece who was born with Tetralogy of Fallot and had to have emergency open heart surgery in the middle of the night. You can follow her journey @ mendingmylahsheartstrings.blogspot.com. Then, our roommate, James, his brand new nephew was hospitalized with Meningitis. Now today, friends of ours delivered their baby and the delivery did not go well. This sweet little girl is now in the NICU fighting for her life! I am beginning to think that there is no such thing as a healthy baby and that we have all taken for granted the simple blessings of our children. Please say your prayers for these three babies. While the first two are finally home, the latter is only hours old and needs all the strength, hopes and prayers she can get. Please bless that her caregivers are precise in their actions and intuitive with the plan of care!

My SWEET Bridger, watch over this baby. Momma loves you!

Happy Number 3!

Yesterday was Bridger's third birthday. As we have the past two years, we bought a red velvet cake and ate it with him at the cemetery. It is strange to look around and see those who we used to know and see their lives moving on. They are now married, having children and growing older. Danny and I are growing older, but other than that, I feel as though time has stopped. We will not watch Bridger get older. We will not take pictures on his first day of school or on graduation. I feel frozen, yet life still continues......

Happy Birthday SWEET boy! Mommy loves you!

Almost there.......again

Two weeks from tomorrow we will honor the day that our sweet boy was removed from this painful, miserable world and taken to that better place. A place where he would no longer need high-flow oxygen and continuous IV medication to keep him alive and somewhat "stable". That day also marks the last time I saw Bridger's beautiful blue eyes and listened to his giggle as he struggled to remove his oxygen monitor. As I brushed my teeth that morning of August 8, 2009, I had no clue that twenty minutes later, my son would be gone. Seven hours later, when Danny and my parents arrived to Houston, they were left only to see the cold and lifeless shell of our only son. This day brings such extreme and mixed emotions, I incapable of knowing how to express myself. This September, Bridger would have been 3 years old. 3 YEARS OLD! I want to scream when I think that many more birthdays will pass and we will be unable to celebrate with him. I know that this life is merely a blink for him while we are apart, but our reunion feels so far away. Baby, mommy loves you!

Isn't it strange?

I just never know when something is going to hit me and just how hard it will hit. Tonight, Danny and I were watching some sci-fi movie and one of the alien characters died. As he died, he closed his eyes and the next thing I knew I became obsessed with trying to establish if I saw Bridger close his eyes when he died. I remember him looking at me with panic in his eyes when he couldn't breathe and we were trying to get more oxygen to him, but that is the last time I remember seeing those beautiful blues. I was quickly pushed out of the way so that the doctors and nurses could attempt to save him. There was no final gaze into each others eyes when his expression might have told me that everything would be okay. Only terror as he became surrounded by strangers trying to help.
These emotions don't just arise because it is Memorial weekend. Something similar to this flashback happens almost daily for me. Whether I have a patient that begins to struggle breathing or I see a child that is close to his age, it all takes me back and I scrutinize every moment we had together fearing that I might forget something or that I already have. It has been almost two years, but I still feel this hole in me as though I have just lost him.
Even in our new house, everything I do, I can't help but think "Bridger would have loved sitting on the back porch" or "it would have been nice to sit as a family in our family room". I know that I am only torturing myself with these thoughts, but he is everywhere with me and I want him to know that no matter what we do, he is included.
Baby, I miss you so much. I want to kiss you and tickle you and hold you in my arms while you sleep. Please know that being your mommy was the greatest season of my life! I love you!

A great loss.............

Yesterday, I was informed that Dr. Hawkins, the former head cardio-thoracic surgeon at PCMC, passed away in his home. Bridger and I were in the PCMC PICU in April of 2009 when Dr. Hawkins came to work and announced that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was April 1, so everyone thought that he was just playing an April Fools joke. Sadly he was not. He survived two years after diagnosis, which in itself is amazing. While he never performed surgery on Bridger, this man paved the way for our surgeon to be able to give us the 11 months we had with our beautiful boy. My heart goes out to Dr. Hawkins surviving family. He will be greatly missed.