I know who I was then, and I remember who I wanted to become. We would have children; one for sure, and maybe more. We would be a family, make family memories and share what we knew, make sure our children felt loved. All that was before. Before the crisis, the tiniest of coffins, and purchasing a cemetery plot for our baby.
That was then, but now I’m haunted by ever present question: what comes now?
There won’t be a living child for us, this much I know. I can easily slip into a moment of escape, remember my pregnancy and still feel the waves and waves of love for my son. But the here and now confounds me. Clearly, the life I had laid out, the path I thought I would follow – well, it’s not there anymore. To be frank, it feels that path, that life, has been obliterated.
Again, I ask myself, what now…
I’m starting to volunteer in a field that is not related to babyloss. With people who never knew me before our loss and don’t know that my eyes used to sparkle more often then they do now. Well-intentioned people say to me “I don’t think I would be able to cope” or “I wouldn’t be able to go on, without my children”. To be honest, this makes me rage. It is implied judgment that without living children, there isn’t motivation to exist, to experience, and to continue in this life.
I’m going to suggest something radical here: WE are a reason to exist. WE are a reason to go forward and WE are a reason to wake up in the morning.
As much as I adore Thomas, as much as I yearn to have him here with me, I am grateful for the broken parts of me. Those are the parts he touched, he shaped, he helped form. We are most certainly a family, even if our son cannot be present with us, in the physical sense. There are so many experiences to be had, so many reasons to wake up and start my day. I continue to sort out the here and now,and to plot out the next steps. I am often surprised at where those steps take me. I’m learning to focus less on where I am going and to take more time to appreciate and engross myself in the journey – yet another thing, my son taught me.
What comes next? I have no idea. But for today, I’ll focus on myself and this journey, and in this moment, that’s enough.
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Thomas is a gift to all of us and through you we have learned about courage, wisdom, pereverence, the gift of walking with others and your powerful message “We are enough”
Love you Andrea!
Andrea,what a poignant and important piece.How proud Thomas would be of his mother.Clearly,your writing will help others struggling with loss. My heart is filled with admiration at your insights and your willingness to share your vulnerability. Thank you for being who you are.All who know you are gifted by your caring.
Andrea so touching!! you are amazing as always. Thomas must be so proudXoxo Louise
Thank you for sharing such a private part of your journey. Bless You, Thomas and your hubby and may your family go safely into 2016.
Thank you for sharing your heartbreaking and uplifting story with such incredible clear-sightedness and courage.
Thank you, Marya – it took a lot of support from family and friends, therapy and time to get here. I’m very grateful.
Thomas is watching over you, knowing he will never be forgotten, and he is living through you. He wants you to have a full and happy life, and is glad to be a part of your life’s beautiful tapestry. Love you Andrea, xx P.
That’s all I could ever ask for, Patty. hugs
Beautiful and inspiring for all who have had to deal with a major challenge and live on to the fullest.
Thank you, Blythe. Sometimes it seems necessary to remind people we are enough. We are mourning and broken, but we are still enough and worthy. hugs, Andrea
Andrea my friend Thomas would be so proud of his mother… How far you have come my dear;)
We came that far together, peer support at it’s finest!