Realistically, I know people understand that you never get over the loss of a child. I do think however, that some think it gets better with time. In some ways, I agree. When Nash first died, I had more bad days than good. Then, slowly but surely, I started having more good days than bad. For some reason, in this last month, I feel like I have taken 5,000 steps backwards. Hell, I might as well be in that rocking chair again holding onto Nash’s lifeless body, trying to wrap my brain around what was happening. I am at an all-time low. I’m finding it hard to do normal things like, get dressed and brush my teeth. If I don’t have somewhere to go, you can find me at home in my robe.
You wouldn’t know this if you saw me. I still smile, laugh, talk with friends, love on Crue; it’s like a disguise I wear. There are many reasons I wear it, and some of them are even helpful to me. When you first lose a child, people expect you to be inconsolable, they expect you to be on the verge of death even…once time goes by and they see you are doing well, it’s harder to have the breakdowns you need. I feel at this point people would think I want attention, or that I’m not the only one with problems and how long am I going to drag this out. Maybe I’m being a little too hard on others, but I do think some people feel like there is a point where you have to brush yourself off and push through. I don’t just think some people feel this way, I know. The whispers of others are becoming more common, I’m starting to hear the phrase, “when will she get over it already?” Not from anyone who matters, but it is being said.
Well, I’m here to tell you that I’m pushing through, only I push through multiple times a day after I have taken 100 steps back. I could care less what others think, they are not walking the road I am, and I do whatever I have to do just to get through each day. If that means 100 Facebook posts, talking about him non-stop or canceling events because I’m to sad, so be it, that’s my right after what I’ve went though. Lately, nights are the worst. When I lay down at night and the events of the day run through my mind, mine always goes to June 19th. I think back to the babysitter standing in the doorway as Nash smiled at me, and only now have I realized that was our goodbye. That smile as I pulled out the drive was the last time my baby would see me, and I him. That moment haunts me. I have cried myself to sleep for a month thinking about that moment and my inability to rewind it. If I could only go back, run to him, snatch him from her arms and take him home with me I would. I can’t though, and the torture it’s putting me through is inexplicable. If I think to long about it I can make myself sick. It’s torture to know if I had just changed one thing about that day my baby would still be here. It truly is to much to take, and at times I completely spiral when I think of it. I have to make the conscious effort daily to try and stop my brain from processing those thoughts.
I will be at work and think of that moment and gasp. I start to shake and can’t catch my breath. I want to drop what I’m doing and run out of the building, crying and drive as far away as I can. I don’t though; instead I take deep breaths, talk myself down and smile through it. When I’m crying at night, I fight the urge to wake Todd and tell him I can’t do this anymore, I don’t want to live like this. What could he do though? He could hold me, listen, but he can’t change it either, and all I would be doing is causing him pain at that moment. Maybe I’m doing so poorly because it’s close to June and everything about this weather reminds me of my final month with Nash and the day he died.
I was talking to Todd a couple of days ago, telling him how hard of a time I have been having lately, and he said seeing Crue in shorts has been doing it to him. It’s was Nash’s first summer and just starting to get warm when we bought him his first outfits with shorts, not knowing weeks later one of those outfits he would die wearing – the shirt cut down the middle from CPR we still have and the shorts we have been upset we never got back. I know it’s strange to be so hung up on some things, but not having those shorts has bothered Todd and I to no end. We read the autopsy report, and it was noted that he was still wearing them then. To think that they were thrown away breaks my heart. Not to mention reading that and picturing him in that condition in those shorts…ugh, the worst thing imaginable is the things my brain not only remembers buy visualizes.
I have had lots of triggers this month. We had one box of diapers left over from Nash that we finally used. Crue is officially using sippy cups, no more of the bottles Nash used. Each day it seems like Nash is disappearing from our lives a little more and all I want is to cling to these small things with everything that I have, and I know I can’t. I know it’s healthy to move on in some ways, but I’m here to tell you that it is not easy. I had just short of six months with Nash, and my memories of him are fading to a point that when I watch his videos, I barely recognize him. After seeing Crue everyday for a year, I’m so used to his face and seeing Nash is almost odd. I hate that!! I don’t want to forget my baby. If this is how I feel now, what will it be like in 10 or 20 years? At one point in time he was my complete world, the thought of something happening to him would bring me to instant tears, and now I’m actually living through his death. I’m surviving my worst nightmare and the pieces of my shattered life are being molded into somethig new. Some new way of living which Feels more like exisiting then anything. I’m irritable, defensive, depressed and numb to everyone and everything it seems. My mind is constantly switching back and forth between the present and the past.
I’m also incredibly sad for Crue. He should have an older brother…he loves little boys…when he sees them he runs to them. Last week he climbed into one of my friend’s son’s laps. I actually have to remind myself I am a mother of two. I should have a two year old. Todd and I should be struggling to get two kids in and out of the house. When we arrive at our families homes, two crazy boys should be with us. When I walk into a resteraunt or store with Crue and see a mom with two boys running after each other and laughing, I want to cry at my very easy stroll through the store with Crue. Crue also loves this picture of Nash I put in his nursery. He carries it everywhere, and when he points to it, I say, “Nash.” He always smiles and says, “NaNa.” Lately he even kisses it, which is something I have never done so he didn’t get it from me. Just last week, as he was laying down for a nap, he cried and pointed to it so I handed it to him…minutes later he fell asleep with it in his arms. It’s almost like he has that little brother mentality, even though he has never known it. Nash would be two this year, the terrible twos as they call them…I wish I was dealing with tantrums, potty training, and all the things people say are so terrible when having a child that age. This year is shaping up to be one of my worst. I guess I’m experiencing my own version of the terrible twos .