Tags
death of a 3 year old, family grief, farm wife, grieving mom, grieving mom farm wife death of a 3 year old, mom, ranch wife, sibling grief, stages of grief, toddler death, unpredictable
A year has passed and some think we should be moving on, not grieving. If you are one of those people, please delete me from your life and don’t feel the need to read on. If you think this is for sympathy or attention do not read on. If you judge me for my journey, do not read on. If not, this is just an update of my life the last year.
I have changed. Oh have I changed. A year ago, my biggest priority in life was always being a good mom and appearing to be a good mom. I still want to be a good mom, but appearing to be one isn’t important. I really don’t care if people think I am a good mom because I know, unless they have lost a child to an accidental death, they won’t get it. They won’t get that thousands of people make the same choice I made that day every summer while they are at work. Thousands of people walk away, leaving someone else in charge of their children and when they come back, guess what, their children are there safe and sound, not being fit in a casket the next day. So my need to please other people or appear to be super mom is gone. I am doing all I can and that is all I can do.
2 years ago as Mady prepared for sleep away camp, I remember meticulously picking out every outfit from head to toe so she would always look cute in my absence. I have always worried so much about the way my kids were dressed. I am not talking designer jeans, but clean, without holes or stains, and hair combed/fixed daily. When we went to California, I spent days packing, organizing, and color coordinating so my kids would look cute every day. That was just who I was. I was always worried that because I was a young mom, people were judging me about the way my kids and even my home looked. This is almost laughable to me now, but heart wrenching at the same time. How did I let “stuff” take my time away from my kids? How did hours packing a 9 year olds bag when the next year she went to camp (2 weeks after her brother died) I wasn’t sure she even packed underwear. How did I change so much to know that her appearance didn’t make her a good person. Her appearance didn’t gain her a spot in heaven, just like my appearance as a good mom didn’t save my 3 year old. Keeping him clean, as clean as you can keep a 3 year old boy, and dressed well, didn’t save him. It did, however remind me what is important and that isn’t stuff, it isn’t things, it is the people that I love. Money can’t buy happiness or bring Bentley back. I think that is what makes me realize so much that the things we are working so hard for at the end of the day are things. Bentley didn’t get to take his prize possession with him (his big combine). No it sits on a shelf collecting dust because I needed to back the camper in and put out a rug to protect the camper from dirt. How did this stuff rule my life?
1 year ago prior to the accident, I only worried about my kids. A year has passed and that is still very similar but I am coming very aware that soon they will all be graduating (6 years to be exact) and I will be work widow. I don’t have 15 years like I had a year ago, I have 6. I have 6 years to figure out how I am going to spend my evenings that are now filled with sports, clubs, groups, meetings. It had never crossed my mind because my life has always been my kids. I guess I thought being a mommy would last forever. Don’t get me wrong, you are always their mom, but their needs change. You do want them to grow up. Trust me the alternative sucks. You do want them to be responsible adults who are good people and productive members of society. I have never worried about what I want or who took care of me. I have always been the one taking care of everyone else. I am so thankful for the people that have stepped up this year to take care of me. It was an usual place for me to be, but I am thankful. I have come to realize that I matter. Taking time for what I want is important too. It makes me a better mom to do something for myself because I feel recharged are ready to take on the world again. I feel a way that is very foreign to me, but it is a good feeling.
I think for the most part we are still feeling those waves crash. We get through most days standing, but then we get caught off guard and the tidal wave knocks us down again. We all grieve so much differently that living with 5 people can be tough (not that you would want to grieve without them). I still need to visit the graveside often and listen to music that makes me feel like they understand. No one else needs those things. We all go through stages where we can’t get enough of the pictures and videos of him and then the next stage is where even seeing his face is too painful to bear. I still long for the things he won’t do. I will never get to take him to his first day of Kindergarten, he will never get to graduate from kindergarten, 6th grade, 8th grade, high school, college or anything like that. He will never get married. His book is missing so many chapters. His life was cut too short. I know God’s Will Be done and be still and worry not, but I feel so robbed. So abandoned. Nothing like the beginning stages but my heart aches for him daily. This is both physical and mental pain. It is pain that you can’t’ describe.
I have changed because I was one of those moms that with my kids almost every hour they weren’t at school. I got worn out and needed a break from time to time. Now I hear people say things I have said a million times and it takes my breath away. When you are tired of being with your kids or feeling drained, remember, I don’t get to rock my should be 4 year old to bed. When you say your “My kids are for sale!”, if I could buy Bentley back I would do it. When you say “Do you want her?”, I want to say are you kidding me!!! I would do anything to have my kid back and you want a 5 minute break. You don’t know the path someone else is on so think before you speak. My filter is on high now. If I say it, I mean it. I have thought through most of the things I say thoroughly. I speak less but more intentionally.
We are getting through this battle one breath at a time. Being a bereaved mother is not easy. It is a constant battle to get out of bed and exist let alone live. I still would not say I have joy in my life. I enjoy things, but joy in my heart has been robbed when I held my baby as he took his last breath on this earth. I buried the joy in my heart with my baby. I am hoping this isn’t forever because I miss it. I miss me.