that blows my mind.
Sometimes it seems like forever,
other days it still seems like I just left California.
Will's death is the same way.
Sometimes it seems far away,
other days it is still so fresh.
And then there are the constant reminders...
Yes, we still cry even though things are going well with this baby.
Yes, we still have people that don't acknowledge Will's life...
or that literally say we should be moved on and over it by now...
and now we have been faced with a whole new range of questions that aren't meant to be painful...but they simply are.
Questions like these wage a war within my soul between my heart that wants me to claim Will and my brain that tells me its not worth mentioning that I have a son who is in heaven...
"Is this your first baby?"
"Do you have any other children?"
"How do you know you'll need a c-section?"
Even the simple task of filing our taxes this year, brought a day of tears and anxiety.
It happened when I opened the package from our accountant and saw that he had claimed Will as a dependent...even though last year in a letter we had explained what had happened.
I guess he forgot.
Or he didn't think it was important enough to make himself a note for next year...
Either way, Tim was left with the task of calling him to tell him that our son did die.
Its not that we mind, I mean talking about Will doesn't bother us in the least...its the thought of making other people feel bad that makes us feel awful.
Because so many people don't know how to react.
And we like to make people laugh, not get that sad look of pity in their eyes...
Which leads me to this story and another conversation in which the other person didn't know how to handle it,
and asked coldly,
"Well, what date did he die?"
"And you told him...of this situation last year already?"
As if this was all our fault...
And my husband cried,
while sitting in his fancy office,
because this whole thing still isn't easy.
And there are many people that still make it even harder than it should be.
And that just plain sucks.
In the wake of our son dying,
we were swarmed.
I was in a fog.
Yet, we were so alone.
I will never forget coming home to an empty house...
a dirty house that hadn't been lived in for nearly 2 months...
a lawn that needed to be mowed...
a pantry and fridge that were empty...
a closet filled with clothes I could not fit into yet...
and the one thing I remember is a friend,
driving from out of state to bring us bags of groceries.
Such a selfless and kind act that still brings tears to my eyes today.
She never called to ask what we needed,
she just took the initiative and did something.
And to this day I am still so grateful for that simple act of kindness.
Because at the time, the only thing I could think about
was how to simply keep breathing.
Imagine being in so much pain emotionally, that you literally hold your breath without even realizing it...I did it constantly.
Because we hadn't lived here long,
we really didn't have a large support network.
And that was hard.
Three days after being released from the hospital,
Tim pushed me around in a wheelchair at Costco while we purchased
things for Will's memorial at our home.
But I still wonder to this day, why we did that...
why we were alone...
Another friend, came over numerous times that week to help me once Tim went back to work.
In one sitting, we put together Will's entire photo scrapbook.
For hours, we sat there and talked while cutting, gluing and piecing the few mementos I had of his short life into a book.
Another friend's kindness that I am so grateful for.
I've had many people ask me what to do in the wake of losing a child.
They know friends or others going through it,
and they want my advice.
I am happy to help, but since each situation is different,
it is also difficult to say sometimes.
Another blog that I follow addressed this same issue,
and I wanted to share it.
She explains everything so well, I really couldn't put it into better words.
I write about this, because I hope that in some way
by breaking open my pain and spilling it out,
it can somehow help someone else.
That by writing about tough topics, knowledge will form...
people will be educated,
and other parents going through this hell will be better taken care of.
Truthfully, the only reason we survived
was because of the support we received.
I should really say the support that we continually keep receiving...
We are thankful to those sane friends who kept us from going insane.
For those family & friends that have been there for us, long after the death and funeral.
Because they know it doesn't stop there.
Like the friends that came to my house the other night for a Tastefully Simple party...
and ending up staying until everyone else left...
to give me my first shot of progesterone in my butt because I was terrified to have Tim do it.
Those are true friends.
And one took pictures, while the other jammed the needle into my backside...
apologizing the entire time (like it was her fault or something).
I may be brave enough to write about certain things...
but let's face it.
I'm not yet to the point of being comfortable in putting a picture (which has my butt crack showing) on the Internet for the world to see...
but its having friends like that,
and so many others that follow this blog
that offer support and leave comments and offer words of encouragement that help us.
And somewhere, somehow along the way....we have figured how to live again.