Take, take, take.

Sometimes, I feel like all I do is take from this community. Such an embracing community. One that I never wanted to be a part of. Yet, I have been welcomed with open arms, supported, not judged. I have received so much.

In turn, I'm trying to "up my giving ante" by sharing about the "25 days of Giveaways" and Fran's beautiful giveaway(s) at Small Bird Studios.

If you're a BLM, please don't hesitate to participate. Although I can't speak for the Givers, I'm pretty sure that they love to do it. To do something in honor of their child(ren).

Know that participating is not taking.

It's Your contribution to Giving.

As Good as It Gets

I was going to write this as a comment on Angie's blog "Still Life with Circles" http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/2011/11/question-grieving-openly-around.html but then I thought that I wouldn't want to bore her readers with my confused ramblings. At least you guys choose to read my crap blog.

I don't know what I'm feeling. I just know that I am feeling. Hopefully this will help, here I go.

A while back, my mother asked me if I was going to cry and/or show emotion (about the loss of Alexander) in front of my other kids. I apparently gave the wrong answer (I said "Yes") because she told me that wouldn't be good for them. I don't know how I responded but I set her straight and she agreed that my approach (whatever it was) was okay with her. Good, great, glad that she agrees. I know that she just said that to shut me up.

And then there's the family friends that asked me "how I'm really doing" and I said "okay but that I miss Alexander dearly". His response, "well, you have other kids so you should be happy". I told him that one doesn't make up for the other. He agreed and changed the topic. Again, just to shut me up.

And then, I get all upset thinking that maybe he's right. Maybe I should be happy and that I don't appreciate my other kids enough. Even though I know that I do. And then I remember what my therapist said that you can be happy and sad at the same time.

Today I was at an IMMEDIATE family's house and was asked a question about ALL my kids. When I mentioned Alexander (he was pertinent to the question) the response was "Oh, ya". They fucking forgot about him. It should be noted that they've NEVER acknowledged his existence so why would I think so now!?

Tonight, while I'm writing this post, I'm complaining sharing these stories with my husband so he says, "so don't talk about him". Why should I have to change what I'm feeling to make others feel better? If they feel bad, imagine how I feel.

You can now add him to my list of people that I'm pissed off at. A list of people that I feel should know better. Or at least when they fuck up, do a better job of convincing me that they really DO give a crap.

I just want to tell everyone (who doesn't "get it") to fuck off. I'm sick of it.

People consistently don't respond the way that I want.
I can't educate the world.
Not talking about Alexander is hard.
Getting their ignorant responses hurts just as much.
Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don't.

I think that part of the problem is that I don't have anyone in real life to talk to Alexander about. Even if I did, I'm not sure what I'd say. Maybe I need to talk to Alexander about all of it. Maybe I need to switch things up.

Or maybe the problem is that I'm not committed either way. To some people I include him in my child count, to others I don't. To some I tell them that I don't appreciate what they said (or whatever), to others, I let their ignorant comments fly.

Maybe it just doesn't matter. I mean no matter what they say or think, he's not coming back. But I'm here. I need to survive. I need to go on.

Maybe this is as good as it gets.

P.S. I should have titled this post "Fuckity-fuck-fuck" because I just realized that I swore a ton (and removed a ton more "fucks") but then I'd have to tell you about how my mother someone thinks that I swear too much and how that isn't good for my kids. My response. Fuck off.

P.P.S. In case you're wondering, yes, I feel better getting all those "fucks" off my chest.

P.P.P.S. If my mother said person thinks that having a mother (that would be me) that swears is my kids biggest problem, I got a little news flash for her, THEIR BROTHER IS DEAD.

That Day Has Come

Today was an emotional day. Not in a “crying my eyes out” way but in an “I feel really good about Alexander’s contribution to the world” way.

Since the second moment after Alexander died (the first moment was reserved for my desire to have another child), I wanted to do something big in his memory. I wanted to change the world, make it a better place, big time.

Since his death, I’ve felt kind of bad about not really doing anything (we’ve given a lot but it’s not the same). However, I know myself and I know Alexander and I knew that our day would come.

Well, today was that day.

A while back, I had my mother buy two presents “for Alexander”. She took her task very seriously. After much thought and reflection, she came home with two special gifts. Toys that Alexander would have loved.

I want to teach my kids about many things in life; Acceptance, Charity and Empathy, to name a few. So, today, we gave Alexander’s toys to kids at the Children's Hospital. The place where he lost his life.

People suggested that we should wait until Christmas but;

Christmas (a.k.a. December) doesn’t mean something to everyone.

Sickness doesn’t recognize holidays. Kids get sick all.year.long.

There are sick kids right now that can’t wait.

So, we gave in November.

I kept it together. Not because I had to or even wanted to but because I did. I want this time to be a happy memory.

So many of my thoughts involve sadness or anger. I’m still kind of pissed off (at him) that he didn’t survive. Doing something special for some other child that I can’t do for Alexander makes me feel really good. Actually, REALLY GOOD!!!

I’m glad that it turned out so well and look forward to giving again next year, or sooner.

I am so sad.

I can hardly see through the tears.
I've been dreading this day forever.
I feel like I've lost Alexander (again).
Yet, it's not my child.
She is someone elses.
Her mother must now live forever without her daughter.
I am so sad.

They Say

They say that if you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism.

I think that the same goes for BLM's.

I remember the months following Alexander's death. I spent all my waking hours searching for another person that had experienced exactly what I had.

Someone who had a boy at x gestation with x cause of death with, the list goes on. Ideally, his name would have also been Alexander.

To this day, I'm still searching. Except that I'm not.

I've found what I was searching for all along, others that know what it's like to share my future.

Life without our children.

Today

I've known today was coming... for several weeks.
I know every year.
It's like there's an alarm clock in my soul that says "this is when it all began... to go wrong".

Yesterday, I thought about today and lost my breath.
Kind of like in the beginning.
Even writing this my chest still feels heavy.

Today has (almost) come and gone. I survived. Too bad he* didn't.
The build-up is worse than the event.
My soul will breathe deeply for another year.


*(Added after the fact.) I just realized that I often refer to Alexander as "he" or "my son". I don't often call him by name. Maybe it's because I think that it's easier on others if I don't mention his name and/or it's easier for me to slip in a mention of him without others noticing (that he's the dead one). Regardless, it's yet another thing that makes me feel bad like a bad mother (to him).

Hidden Opportunity?

How come it seems like all BLM's (every single one of you) live 5,000 miles from me.

No one lives close enough to make the trek for a cup of coffee... once a month... ever. I mean, that can't really be true so where is everyone? I've frequented local mom sites and have yet to find a SINGLE post about wanting to connect with others that have lost. Wanting to find someone for support for the long-term (read: forever).

I know that there are large scale support groups out there, but I'm looking for one or two gals to hang out with.

I wonder if non-BLM's feel like we'd just sit around and cry over pictures of our dead babies. Maybe we would sometimes but just once, I'd like to sit in a room with someone else and not have to think about what I said before I said it. To just know that they really, truly get it.

Besides, it feels really isolating. Like I'm the only one in the entire world with a dead baby.

I guess this could be a hidden opportunity?