Hiatus and The Real Face of Grief

I have taken a hiatus from writing for some reasons that I’m still unsure if I should start back up again. I have had so much floating around in my head, and it has made me overly emotional quite often. Feelings have been hurt. Apologies never made, and I doubt they ever will. This time away was spun from me feeling like people don’t care about my feelings. Because it wasn’t a big deal to them means that it shouldn’t be a big deal to me. My grief has been included in that mix. I have had people, close to me including neighbors and friends that have quietly behind my back talked about how I’m not grieving the correct way. There have been plenty of eye rolls, awkward silence, and glances away when my son is brought up, and every single time it still hurts just the same.

I have one thing to say to all of those that feel like my grief doesn’t matter. That my feelings don’t matter. That something that may not have seemed emotional or a big deal to you- I hope you NEVER have to understand. I hope that you will gain your compassion and caring without having to experience such a tragedy in your own life. That the simple word SORRY will be at the edge of your lips to say easily when you know that you have hurt someone. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that if people feel that I’m not grieving properly, or that they are annoyed by me and what I am emotional about then they can ignore what I have to say. Frankly- they can ignore me in person. I don’t care. I don’t need people in my life that don’t care about my feelings. I'm not going to waste my time or energy on someone that doesn’t care about me.

I NEED to write. It’s what helps me wake up each morning and get out of bed. I know that my story is a train wreck and the “rubber-neckers” can’t help but slam on their breaks to look. They are also the ones that have the most to say about their opinion about me. So to those “rubber-neckers”, I’m not here to be the next news story. I’m not here to be your next opinion. I’m here to help me, and to help other people that may be in a similar situation hoping to find some solace in knowing that their feelings are real and matter. I wished that there was a blog or somewhere I could have gone after Corbyn died to read and know that I wasn’t crazy. That all those emotions and feelings are all normal. I didn’t. I have hope that this blog will be that for someone. 

Stay if you would like, but know that sugar coating isn’t my finest trait, and I’m still going to write no matter who stays or not.

Something that is just recent in our lives has put a lot of fear and weight on my heart. The kids pediatrician reached out to the pediatrician that is part of the research that Corby is part of back at Boston Children’s Hospital. She has been with us from the very beginning and she understands our fears of getting the rest of Addy’s vaccinations as well as getting Ledgyr vaccinated all together. There is no proof that the flu shot had anything to do with why Corbyn died. There isn’t set research out there that has statistics showing deaths related to vaccinations. The vaccination injury table clearly states seizures and death as possible side effects. According to VAERS it is also the most filed vaccination for injury. So all of this gives reason for me to think it HAS to have something to do with it. Which brings a whole new emotion and extreme guilt to my baby's death.  I’m going at all of this blindly, and terrified. Our pediatrician worked with this other pediatrician to help come up with some kind of game plan. I met with her and we discussed possible game plans. One of which was vaccinate one vaccine at a time and have them monitored for 24 hours. That all sounds comfortable, but my gut still is saying no. She’s in the process of seeing if the insurance company will cover the 24 hour hospital monitoring. Part of me hopes  that it doesn’t. I know that she won’t force me into anything, but I still don’t think that I’m ready, or ever will be. I'm leaning towards not vaccinating for several reasons and doing some educated research. This post will also help for some people to understand. 

This throws a wrench in our lives, though. Addy will be starting kindergarten this fall, and is not fully caught up with her vaccinations. I’m not sure the fight I’ll have to go through for that.  We have lost our sitter, and daycare centers won’t take Ledgyr because he isn’t vaccinated at all. At least not any daycare that I trust. So where do I turn? What do I do? To me, these decisions are life and death. It may not seem that way for everyone else, but how many people are out there that have had a child die after being vaccinated? I believe those are the only people that fully understand what we are going through. ( I have been writing this post over the last several months... Thankfully since I wrote this paragraph we have had the blessing for Brock to get a new job that he works from home. This has been such an answer to our prayers because we were both so worried and stressed on what we were going to do with our children. I know that my Heavenly Father listens and answers prayers in ways that he feels that we need.) 

I’ve become a recluse these last several months. I feel I’m slowly losing friends because they don’t get it. I don’t want to explain to every person why one day I’m up for casually talking and the next I want to sit inside staring at the ceiling. I don’t want to have to explain why I couldn’t be there for someone every minute of every day when I needed someone there for me every minute of every day just so that I could take full breaths. I shouldn't have to explain my actions nor should I be judged and speculated about WHEN YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!  Then again if I tried explaining it to everyone how many of them would then quietly eye roll and talk behind my back about how I’m not grieving right, or using it as an excuse? A grieving mother shouldn’t have to face the ridicule and challenges of so many opinions that someone that thinks they know better has. Yes- I’m fully aware that I should try to not let this bother me. I can say that I have done that for 2 years. The last eight months haven’t been so easy for me. I’m tired of fighting my hell every day of waking up and not having my son with me. This trial doesn’t ever end for me. I don’t get to take some magic pill and he will be back. I don’t get to wake up from this nightmare. I shouldn’t have to fight the judgments of family and friends on top of it all. Just because everyone else has moved on with their lives and this isn't so new to them doesn't mean that it isn't just as fresh and raw for me as the day that it all happened. Grief doesn't have a timeline. It doesn't have a process. You don't move from one grief step to the other graduating each step. It's the craziest roller coaster ride that you have EVER seen or been on. You may feel like you are doing great until you turn a corner and all the sudden plummet 500 feet back to ground zero starting from the very beginning with your rawness and emotions. It's just as unexpected for you as it is for everyone else that is on the ride with you. You shouldn't have to explain to everyone else on the ride what in the heck just happened when you have no idea either! 

How many people can say that when someone dies that they are jealous of them? How many people long for the day that they die? No I'm not suicidal. Was I before my loving husband saw the signs and gave me a much needed blessing? Unfortunately, yes I was. Will that be my last? Probably not. I always thought I was doing so well on my "grief journey" that I wouldn't ever reach the point of feeling like jumping out of the car going 80 mph would be a much better option than feeling the pain, guilt, and heartache. Now, I know that I can't discard any emotion or thought that I never thought I would have. Jealousy for the death of an individual is also one of those thoughts that I never thought was even a possibility of thinking about. It's now a constant thought when someone passes. They get to see my son. They get to be with him while I still have to stay. 

A few weeks ago was the first time that I heard one of the songs that was sung at Corbyn's funeral. We were driving in the car and when it came on the radio an emotion overcame me even before I realized what song it was. It was the song that my aunt sang. It’s a beautiful song. I can't remember, but I know we talked about her even changing when it said baby to say mama. I love the song and it makes me feel like my baby is speaking to me. I needed to hear it that day as I felt so down and discouraged. It brought all of the rawness of his death to the surface along with all of my emotions I have been trying to bury, for several months. I am still so raw even 2.5 years later. I still physically get sick, I still physically ache. I still cry uncontrollably-usually behind closed doors. I still get so frustrated wondering why me!?!? I still wonder so many 'what if's'. I still can't take deep breaths more often than not. I still wish more than anything I would have listened to the prompting for the nurse to not give him his shot that day. ALL of it is still just a fresh. 

Now that I'm pregnant with our 4th child doesn't help with the emotions at all. Hormones are crazy enough just by themselves. Adding fear and grief along with those emotions turns it into a complete sideshow of terror! This pregnancy hasn't been any easy one for me. There have been so many times that I thought I was going to lose this baby. We have kept it quiet because of this. It also took us several months to get pregnant so that has also added to the emotion and wanting to keep it quiet until it felt right for us to start talking about it. It has been a sacred subject that we have wanted to keep to ourselves.  We are so excited for this little one to come into our family.We have just recently also found out that we will be adding another little GIRL to our family. Addy can't contain her excitement!  Just as I did with Ledgyr, though, I wonder if she will look like Corbyn. I wonder if this time his blonde hair will be what is passed on to her, or she will get his deep blue eyes.

I can't believe how much Ledgyr has the same facial features and mannerisms as his big brother. Even with the stark black eyes and dark brown hair he still looks so much like his big brother. I can't wait for the day that I give birth and I get to feel my son so close to me again. I miss feeling him so much! I can't wait to hold this sweet little girl knowing that she was just with her brother and she is the closest thing to him.  

13 months 16 days old

Yesterday Ledgyr was the exact age Corby was when he passed. It also happened to be the day the the medical examiner that performed Corby's autopsy called me. I found that kind of ironic. I thought about mentioning that to her, but decided against it. All day I pondered off and on about how everything could be so different. I have constantly wondered how I am going to handle watching Ledgyr surpass the age of his brother. Up to this point Ledgyr has always fit that he is Corby's little brother, but in my mind Corbyn will always be this baby:

I wish I knew what he would have looked like older. Would his hair have continued to get darker? Would his eyes have stayed that deep blue or turned more green like his daddy and mommy's eyes? I will never know in this life. How am I, now, going watch his little brother grow and surpass everything I knew about Corbyn? I have thought all day today about how I have had more days with Ledgyr than I had with Corby. As I laid in bed with Ledgyr this morning I was grateful that I was able to have this morning. 2 years ago I wished more than anything that I had this morning with my blue eyed baby boy. I wished that I could lay in bed and nurse my little boy, and every morning after he passed that I woke up engorged it hurt even more knowing that I will never get that chance. My body was still wanting to nourish my baby, but there was no longer a baby to nourish. Today I was able to snuggle and nourish my brown eyed little guy and I can't even begin to explain how grateful I was to have one more day with him.
Now-how do I handle from now on? First of all- I pray that there will always be a "from now on", but now what? Will I watch Ledgyr every time he hits a milestone that Corby didn't have the chance to reach and have my heart break a little more by having that realization? I don't know. One day I may be ok with it, and another day I won't be able to handle it. I'm mostly waiting for the day that I hear him say "mama". I wonder if he will sound like Corby at all. You better believe I will get that recorded that's for sure! Will I be excited, or cry? Grief is so unknown.
I now look at Ledgyr and see Corbyn so much. The only difference between my two boys is their hair and eyes. If you put blonde hair on Ledgyr and gave him blue eyes he would be Corbyn's twin. Heck, Ledgyr would probably be the exact same size as his brother if Corby was still here! Have I mentioned HE'S HUGE?!?!?!
I am grateful every day that I wake up and my children are still here. I'm grateful for that extra day that I have the privilege of being a mother to my other two children.

Two Years in Reality

Two years ago we buried our baby. I can't believe it's been two years. I still feel like it was that morning that I kissed his cheek for the last time and  his casket before they were to lower it into the ground. I can still feel the hard firm coldness of the casket on my lips. 

The day was brisk, but not too cold. It was beautiful when it was supposed to be stormy. The sun started to peek through the clouds just as we showed up at the cemetery for the graveside service. We released royal blue balloons and I remember I didn't want to let go of my balloon. 

Ironically enough just today was the first time I have seen the pictures from Corby's funeral. I went back and forth for two years about getting them from our friend who was so wonderful enough to take pictures that day. I finally bit the bullet and asked her for them. When her sweet daughter handed me the flash drive that they were on I smiled and said thank you, but my heart sank. Could these pictures really exist? Is this proof that my son is for sure gone? All these questions raced through my head as I casually made conversation. I couldn't look at the pictures right away because I was at work, as well as I needed to catch my breath before I could  muster up enough courage to do so. I decided I would give myself a time limit. I knew if I took my lunch break and opened them up at the start of my break I would spend the whole break crying and I probably couldn't recover from it at that point. So I decided to give myself 10 minutes. That way when my lunch was over, no matter where I was at, I could close them and concentrate on my work. 
As I opened them I remember thinking about how I remember only bits and pieces of that day. I only really remember talking or seeing maybe two or three people. I don't remember any particular conversations. I remember tucking my son in one last time with one of his favorite blankets. I remember Brock putting one of his missionary name tags in the pocket of Corbyn's suit jacket. I remember them telling me I had to say one last goodbye before they closed the casket for the last time.

I remember screaming in my head as they went to shut it "NO WAIT!!" over and over again. Wishing I could climb in there with him. I remember that finalizing sound as he put the key in and locked my baby's casket like he was shutting and locking my heart in a dark dungeon. It had a very distinct noise that I can only describe it as I remember it being like locking of an old age door where you put the key in to lock it as well as unlock it. It was so finalizing. It could have all been in my head, but I remember looking over as the funeral director did it and to me it had a clicking sort of sound. 

One thing that I remember very clearly was how I tried to hold it together. I thought that I had done very well. That was the only thing that surprised me when I opened up the pictures. There weren't very many pictures of me sobbing, but in almost every picture I am physically frowning. 

I had no idea that I even could frown- let alone that I was doing it. My emotions didn't need to consist of crying. I had done that enough for the last 10 days- I probably didn't have any tears left anyway. Instead my face showed more emotion than I ever thought it did, or ever could. All those same emotions are still so fresh to me. It's still a very real part of my life. It's still a life that I live. Every. Single. Day. Now, two years later, it's a life that stays hidden from most people, on most days, because it's not accepted. I yearn for someone to ask me about my "other life". About my son that is not seen nor heard. I yearn to hear someone say his name and want to talk about him. That's one thing that I wish I could go back to two years ago because two years ago every second was about Corbyn. His name was said over and over again and people were there for him. They were remembering him. For some reason, now it's awkward for people to remember him. To talk about him. To even say his name. 

These two years have been the hardest two years of my entire life and I'm still not sure how I'm going to make it through the rest of my life. I miss my baby so much.  Still to this day I get physically sick to my stomach from my unbearable sadness because I miss him so much. How has it been two years since I saw my child? How have I got up each day? HOW? 

I want to give a special thank you to Whitney Cahoon with Cahoon Studios for taking these pictures for us and capturing this emotional day. We will be forever grateful for what you have done for us.  

Day 26 – GRATITUDE

Day 26 – GRATITUDE One of the greatest and powerful keys to unlocking the door to healing is having a sense of gratitude in your everyday life. It might seem ridiculous to be grateful when your grieving but if you can start practicing a little gratitude everyday, you will start noticing a difference in the way you feel about your life. So what are you grateful for today? You can list as many or as little things as you want. Think about making this a new ritual for you to practice each morning.

I'm grateful to have the opportunity to call Corbyn mine. I'm grateful for my loving wonderful husband that puts up with my crazy ups and downs. I'm grateful for my Minnie-me and her smile that lights up a room. I'm grateful I had 411 days with Corby. I'm grateful for Ledgyr because, let's face it, he wouldn't be here right now if Corby hadn't passed away. We didn't plan on getting pregnant with another child until summer 2014 (we got pregnant with Ledgyr in December 2013 and Corby passed October 2013). So who knows if his little spirit would have come to our family if my arms weren't aching and empty. I'm grateful for the wonderful understanding job my husband has as well as how loving and understanding my work and coworkers are. I'm grateful for the beautiful home we are able to live in to continue to grow our family when we are ready. I'm grateful for all of the supportive understanding people in our lives. I'm grateful for technology so I was able to chronicle Corbyn's entire life through pictures, videos, and email diaries. I'm grateful for my testimony of eternal families. I know that doesn't do a lick of help while I'm alive, but that faith that I will see my son and be with him again someday is sometimes the only thing that makes me put one foot in front of the other. I have to remind myself of all the things I'm grateful for on a daily basis or I would continue to dig myself into a dark hole. I would like to believe that as I focus on the positive still left in my life that I can slowly glue myself together. 

Day 24 – CHOOSE YOUR BREATH

Day 24 – CHOOSE YOUR BREATH

Conscious grief work is so important if you want to create a beautiful life after loss. Have you ever sat down and really thought about where you are in your grief journey? Have you ever paid attention to your inner thought patterns? Are you stuck? Are you comfortable? Are you peaceful, angry, frustrated, hopeful? What are you feeling? Why are you feeling that way? Where do you want to go next? How will you get to that place? Are there any changes you could make in your life that would benefit your grief journey? When you start exploringthe landscape of your own mind you begin to become aware of your thought patterns and you get to understand your grief more.  Share your own grief discoveries. Do you feel hopeful for your future? Do you believe that grief and healing can co-exist?

Somewhere inside of me I believe that grief and healing can exist. As of right now I'm not sure how. I'm only two years into this journey and I am working very hard to try and find some healing. Some days I can go about my day and function. Other days it takes everything in me to remember to put on a happy face. 

I have thought about where I'm at in my grief journey. I'm still raw. It's still new to me. It still hurts just as much as it did the day it happened. I don't let everyone know all of this because I already am getting the eye rolls and the unfollowing of friends on Facebook that have passed judgment that I should have moved on by now. It's obvious who those people are and they are the people that make the bereaved stay silent and not want to talk about it. 

I feel like my inner thought patterns are in a healthy place. I don't spend sleepless nights awake wondering "what if's" anymore. Most days I don't wonder if somehow I missed something about him that could have caught him from passing away. The one thought that I still have a hard time with is if his flu shot had anything to do with it. I'm nervous for me to get my flu shot that is mandatory for my work. I'm not scared of passing away. In fact, I would welcome it. I'm scared that somehow it's going to affect Ledgyr because I'm breastfeeding him. With my medical knowledge my mind says that he will be fine. My mind also said that Corby would be too and I was protecting him from getting the flu and dying from that. Now I don't know what to believe anymore. I'm stuck there. I'm not sure how long I'll be there, but for now I'm not trying to force myself. 

My roller coaster is still very up and down. I will have days of peace and then other days of a lot of anger and frustration. I don't expect to be in an only peaceful state right now or any time soon. I don't have a lot of expectations because there is so much change all the time. I ride the wave and will let it take me to shore. 

Where do I want to be? I would like to be in a place that when I think about my son I smile and feel happy. I want to talk about his memories and not cry every time. I know that won't happen tomorrow nor do I expect it to. 

I have an entire lifetime to pave the way on my journey. I'm not in a rush and people that think I should be aren't worth my energy to keep them in my life. I hope they never have to understand because the only way they will is by experiencing a loss themselves. I don't ever wish that on my worst enemy, but for me I need to change that in my life to help me. I need to not feel like I'm constantly being judged on how I'm grieving. 

There was a post that I didn't get to writing due to it being on Ledgyr's birthday that was about secondary losses. I thought about any secondary losses and I have lost people in my life who before losing Corby were in my life. One bit of advice that my grief counselor gave me was to not waste my precious energy on trying to keep someone in my life that isn't making an effort to stay there. I need to focus my energy to keep me afloat. It is a loss to lose them, but I have also gained a lot of wonderful people in my life who understand or try really hard to try to understand. I've come to understand that is merely part of my journey and I can't focus on only that if I want to move in the right direction.