OMG... It's A Two'fer

Can I post two blogs in one day? I say yes because I am that bored today. Also, because it's my blog and don't read if you don't want to. I don't care either way.

 

My first post was my normal positive and upbeat post like I'm used to posting. This one, not so much. I'll let you in on a little secret - I miss my son more than words can describe. I know, I know, that's totally normal, he was your son, of course you miss him, blah, blah, blah. No... like miss him, miss him. Like, all I think about 24/7, miss him.

 

If you've never lost a child, I hope you never do. It's something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I would wish things like a lifetime of uneven table legs, or a predisposition to always hitting "Reply All" in their emails and texts, or a lifetime of friends who only talk about their baby's advanced mental and physical development. Those are things I wish on my enemies. Oh yeah and the constant sensation of a missed sneeze and whatever you want to call that taste of orange juice after you brush your teeth, in their mouth, all the time. But to lose a child, that, my friend, is the ultimate misfortune.

 

You see, to lose a child by accident is one thing. To lose a child by means of a purposeful act... well, that's a whole 'nother ballgame. How would I know this? I've been through both. I mourned the loss of my son by "accident" first. It's a lot easier that way. Part of me still wishes I didn't know the truth. I could deal with the "accident." I can't deal with the truth. Because the truth is, he suffered, it wasn't instantaneous and that kills me. Period. I feel as though I have died a thousand deaths for my son every day since he's been gone. I can't help but put my mind to that place where he was that day and what he might have felt. You can't stop your mind from going there, it just happens. Was he scared? Did he wonder where his momma was? All of those things you can't help but think about even though you fight it and try so hard not to go there.

 

He was my everything. I love TG like I don't even know how to describe it, but JK, he... he was my baby. There's a special bond between moms and little boys, especially if those boys are the baby, and he was mine. He was perfect. He did no wrong. I feel as though I will go through the rest of my life trying to fill the void he left. I know in my mind, logically, that will never happen, there will never be another, but try telling that to my heart. It won't believe you, I promise. My heart longs for him. It grieves for him every single day, even almost 2 years later.

 

Losing a child is not just mental, it takes its physical toll on you as well. I went from a 5'3 125 pound frame to 5'3 100 pounds. My hair falls out. I have developed adult acne (seriously? why this? losing him wasn't bad enough? it has to show in huge, red pimples that refuse to pop on my jawline?! seriously?). But the mental aspect is much greater. The anxiety has transformed me from an outgoing, people person to a terrified of public introvert. *no new friends* I loathe going in public anywhere and only go if I'm bribed or forced. The promise of wine and not actually having to speak to anybody helps. And don't even attempt to call me on the phone. It's not going to happen. There are 27 other ways to contact me that doesn't involve me actually speaking to you, use one of those.

 

I am afraid I am teaching my daughter to be scared of the world. She need not be. She needs to be smart, not scared. My emotions come from a still very raw place that she knows nothing about. So how do I do that? How can I be emotionally crippled from the grief of losing my son and still be a powerful enough woman to be a role model to my daughter? You see where my thoughts go? All over the place, that's where. At least my humor is still intact, right? Ok great. So back to TG, how do I do that?

 

There is no way for me to hide my grief from her. I don't cry in front of her. Actually, I don't cry in front of anybody. Cries go in the "Feels Box" along with love, and warm and fuzzies, it doesn't get opened much. Yes, I have a "Feels Box." Judge away. It's not an actual box, you know what I mean. But my grief manifests its way into her everyday life without my even knowing. My inability to remember where the fuck I put things, my short temper, my short attention span, my ability to zone out and daydream and ignore her. Yeah, I became that parent and I didn't even know it.

 

Hopefully, she'll look at me when she's all grown up with children of her own and wonder how I was strong enough to make it through. Or she'll hate me because she realized I lied to her about bedtime because I figured out how to change the time on the cable box. Either way, my son's death has created a constant tug of war in my mind on whether to focus on my grief or focus on my daughter, because right now, I can't do both. I figure, I will miss JK my whole life, but TG is only little once. It's time to let the past go and start focusing on the future. JK is still part of our future and we will continue to honor him through his memories, I'm just making a solemn vow to no longer let it consume me.

 

Also, welcome to my mind when my ADD meds have worn off. Hope you can keep up.