On Tuesday October 4th, I will join a group called Compassionate Friends for the first time in Fort Wayne. I am nervous, scared, sad, and happy about going. I am not sure what to expect but I do know from connecting with some of the members on Facebook that seems like the group for me. This is a support group for parents who have lost their children. I am hoping this will help me through my process of grief. I also joined a "private" group on Facebook with other CDH moms who have lost babies. It has been such a blessing. I continue to stay in contact with another mother whom I met during my time in Michigan and she is wonderful. She lost her daughter one week before Aiden passed. Please keep her family in your prayers as they continue to struggle with the passing of their baby girl. I am actually meeting with them this weekend in Michigan. They are having a rememberance day on October 8th and Greg and I will attend. This will be the first time we have been back to Michigan and I am hoping for strength to get through this program. I have been reading books to help me with the loss of Aiden. I am having a memory chest made for me to put some of Aiden's belongings in to keep in the family room. My mom had his name written in the sand by Christians Beach. It is a couple in Australia who write children's names in the sand during sunset and then sends you the file. It is absolutely breathtaking. I will try to post it.
I have put together a collage of pictures as a tribute to Aiden on one of our walls in the house. I can't wait until its complete. We have many other pictures of Aiden on our home but this will be "his wall". We received Aiden's urn and it is absolutely beautiful and sits on our mantel. I also received my urn necklace and it is also beautiful and it makes me feel so close to Aiden. My sister's friend is helping me complete a scrapbook of Aiden. I can't wait to see the finished results. We engraved pumpkins this week and made one for Aiden of course. Cole decorated it with happy faces:) Greg, Cole and I have been attending church much more since Aiden has passed and it was especially hard to attend the first time after Aiden passed because church was the last place we saw Aiden because his funeral service was held there. Today at church was even harder because of the messages and a couple sat in front of us with a newborn baby about 3-4 weeks old. Of course he was a boy. Greg and I were heartbroken through the service but glad we were in church and were together to learn on each other. I am getting ready to go back to work in a few weeks and not looking forward to this at all. My work requires me to work with families, children especially babies and this will be so hard on me. I hope I have the strength to make it through each day. I am posting a poem I came across another blog and it touched me so much that I have to conclude with it. Thank you everyone for continuing to support us through our loss of our beautiful angel baby, Aiden.
Normal
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone
important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
... Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to do for Birthdays
Christmas,New Years, Valentine's Day,and Easter.
Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a
funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab of pain in your
heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.
Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and
screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's
go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding
your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise,
because the silence is deafening.
Normal is staring at every child who looks like he is my child's age. And then
thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then
wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness
lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday,
commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful
it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your
child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the
balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my
child loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my child.
Normal is making sure that others remember his.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but
we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets
worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss,
unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the
remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent
is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental
health depends on it.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as
cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken
with grief over the loss of your child.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying
together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this
because..." I love God, I know that my child is in heaven, but hearing people
trying to think up excuses as to why healthy children were taken from this earth
is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did
laundry or if there is any food.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two
children or one, because you will never see this person again and it is not
worth explaining that my child is in heaven. And yet when you say you have one
child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your
child.
Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of small,
happy children that break your heart when you see them.
Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking
if there even is a God.
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.
And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for
you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".†
