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?

Well, I guess this is something

I have written countless posts (in my head), yet, none of them have been published.
I have tons to say but when it's time to write, nothing comes.
I'm tired.
Maybe it's all part of my plan.

Have you Heard About Anaya?

If not, check out all that her family is doing to make the world a different place at Healing Anaya.

If you have heard of her, can you help?

FYI, I have been in contact with her mother, Camara (over the past year) and friends of mine know of her (when she used to live in Nelson, B.C.).

"If I had a million dollars..."

I Parent Three Children.

Do they understand that I care for and parent three children?

Not as in I'm crazy and think that my child is still alive but, I don't think that they understand that a part of my day, each and every day is spent caring for Alexander.

No, I don't change his diaper or feed him but I still worry about him. Sure, many things related to him can wait as they aren't as pressing as a current bumped knee but they're still (my) needs (for him). I still make decisions based on how it will affect his legacy? Even though he isn't here, it doesn't mean that his existence doesn't impact us and require our attention.

I know that you get it, but do they?

I Wonder...

what the world would be like if every couple had lost a child, had a child that was ill or one that had challenges.

I wonder.