The Fear is Too Much

The fear is too much.  Sometimes I just cannot handle this.  I wonder how to go through the next however many years of my life with such fear coursing through my body all of the time.  You add the fear to the grief and i  think it is taking such a toll on my physically, mentally, spiritually.

Sometimes I Don't Want it to get Easier

 Sometimes I think it is wrong to feel ok.  Sometimes I think it is wrong to smile.

Saying it is better is like saying it is ok that Nolan is gone. 

 Getting used to it is like getting used to living without a heart, a brain, lungs, limbs, and more. 

 Life without my son is never going to be ok.  Never.  Yet I must live on.  I must keep on.

 When I see his beautiful smile, his face lit up, his zest for life in photos, it is a reminder of what is lost.

 I'm grateful for my photographs of him, but they just emphasize the horror of our loss.

 He should be here.  We should not be here without him.  He should be here.

 Yes, two years later and I am still a broken record.  I still have a broken heart. 

 Not all broken hearts mend. 

 The broken heart of a bereaved mother is broken forever. 

 So it shouldn't be better and it really can't be. 

Pictures of You

I'm thankful for photographs of your beautiful face.  How I wish I had more.   There are days when I am looking through old pictures and I notice one with you in the background.  I get to see an expression on your face that I haven't seen in nearly two years. 

 Even the blurry photos of you are meaningful to me.  I have on on this post that is blurred, but it is you in the middle of being silly.  I look at it and want to see you act silly again. 

I do not know how anyone could ever think that a mother gets over the loss of her child.  I've heard the words "letting go" and "moving on" too many times from people who have never lost a child. 

People have often said how lucky I am to have so many photos of Nolan.  It's true.  I do feel grateful to have so many pictures of his beautiful face.  There are moments that I look at them and suddenly it hits me that the photos are all that I have.  I'll see his sweet smile and suddenly feel sick to my stomach.  I'll remember that he is gone

It's not that I ever forget that he is gone.  However, some moments I am actually in the moment of what is happening in the here and the now.  Then a physical feeling overcomes me.  I am not sure how to describe it, but it is an actual feeling that my body experiences.  It is sort of like a chill that travels through my entire body, often originating in my stomach, and it has a hint of nausea to it.  Then it reaches my throat and sometimes it makes it hard to breathe.  Other times it makes me feel like throwing up.

Two years later and I still experience this often. 

A grieving mother does not get over it. 

She learns to live with it because she has to.

I Wish He Could Enjoy These Things

I wish Nolan were here. 

I always wish Nolan were here. 

I think of him all the time. 

He should be here to enjoy life with us.  I remember how much we were enjoying our sunroom before he died.  Just a few weeks before his death I had bought a couch and tv for the sunroom.  I wanted it to be a great place for the kids to hangout with friends.  I still had hopes for fixing the basement, but wasn't sure when that would happen. 

We were rapidly outgrowing our little three-bedroom house with our five growing kids. 

Oh how I would love to be that crowded again!

About a year after Nolan's death, I started to work on the basement.  I rented a huge dumpster and decluttered like crazy.  Then I painted walls, I painted the floor.  Next I hired someone to put up a couple walls.  After that I organized, bought carpets, bought furniture.  I even bought a small pool table.  The basement became a wonderful space for the children.  It nearly doubled our living space.

Now I am open to parties, to sleepovers. 

In the last month, I have hosted a first communion party, a birthday party, a slumber party, a sleepover, and a baby shower.  All in a month. 

Our house has felt festive, full of laughter and noise and friends.

I think of Nolan and his beautiful personality.  He would be loving the social life we have been having. 

I wish he were here. 

He's Officially Older

Today is a day I have dreaded.  Today Liam is officially older than Nolan ever became.  Nolan died 9 days after his 13th birthday, somewhere in the early morning hours.  We don't know the time.  They never told us.  It could have been 12:30am.  It could have been 7:30am.  We don't know.  Would it help if I knew?

Anyway, today is nine days since Liam turned 13. 

He's already bigger than Nolan ever became.  He already has started puberty and I don't think Nolan had.  He was probably close, but he didn't have any body hair.  Liam is covered in hair and has already shaved his teeny mustache a couple times. 

Nolan is frozen in time as my sweet thirteen year old boy. 

He will never grow older.

He will never kiss a girl.

He will never marry.

He will never fall in love.

He will never become a father.

He will never go to a college party.

He will never learn to drive.

He will never go to high school.

He will never wave goodbye to me as he leaves for college.

He will never get a first job.

He will never hug me again.

I miss him so much.  None of this is fair. 

The Power of Music

Music has always made me cry. 

It always has.

Music has this power to draw out your emotions.  You associate music with happy times, sad times, youth, family, friends, love, hate, romance, and such. 

I cried today listening to music.  It made me think of Nolan.

Those Days

Today is one of those days, a day where it is worse than usual.  Every day is bad when you lose your child.  Anyone who doesn't get that has either never had a child or something else.   I'm not saying every MOMENT is bad, but every day.  Every day is a day that you do not see your child, talk to your child, hear your child.  How could that be good?  Ever. 

Sadness today. 

I just feel rather blah anyway. 

Guilt

Sometimes I feel guilty. 

I find myself smiling, laughing, genuinely enjoying myself.

Or like, just a bit ago, I was singing a Christmas song.  Christmas has always brought so much joy and happiness. 

When I lose myself in a movie, a book, a bottle of wine. 

I feel guilty.

I am aware of the need to keep moving.  I am aware that I have other children.  I am aware that "life goes on."

But there is guilt in that life that still lives.

There is guilt that I missed something and my son died.

There is guilt in good times.

I know that Nolan's wonderful spirit would want us to be happy.  I know that he wouldnt' want me to wallow in my sadness.

I know that. 

It doesn't change how I feel, how empty our world is without him.  It doesn't change that when I laugh, I think to myself that he should be laughing too.

Too Much Information

I'm not sure what this person was thinking.  Well, actually, I guess I sort of do because it is a place to let it all out (our grief, our pain.). 

I have this Facebook group that I joined for people who have either lost someone from Myocarditis or who have suffered it themselves (and survived.)   Mostly it is folks like me who have lost someone.  More often than not, people do not survive because there are such vague, easily missed symptoms.

A couple weeks ago, I posted a question asking other members how many of their loved ones had actually died in their sleep without warning like Nolan.  This post has had an enormous response creating quite the thread.  Most were told, like me, that he most likely simply died in his sleep peacefully. 

You know the fears I have, right?  Fearing that he awoke, scared.  Fearing that he suffered, afraid.  I have imagined that for these 678 days with such agony. 

Yet, everyone says, he was peaceful.  He died in his sleep. 

This woman commented on my thread today.  The spouse of her married adult son was in bed with him when he awoke in the middle of the night.  He bolted upright in bed making gurgling sounds before falling over in a slump. 

Now I am imagining this for my sweet Nolan.

His bedroom is next to mine.  The night he died, I thought I heard a few noises in our hallway or something, but we have pets.  So I often hear things.  He was found in bed on his stomach. 

I won't ever know, but now I have a new horrible image stuck in my head. 

I wish this other mother would have thought about that before sharing so much information, but I also understand why she did. 

The whole thing sucks, for me and for her.

Family Nights, Saturday Nights, Not the Same

As I have mentioned before, grief is exhausting.  I'm sure some of you know this for yourselves.  Those of you who don't, feel blessed.  I had no idea how tired I would be all the time from this hell. 

Today I was thinking perhaps we should play board games tonight as a family.  We haven't done that forever.  I don't think we have even done it since Nolan's death.  I am not sure.  I think one night we played charades briefly.  That's all I can remember. 

We didn't play board games as often as we should have before Nolan died, but at least we tried to sometimes.  We were supposed to that night actually because it was New Year's Eve.  That was the plan.  Junk food and board games.  Instead we had death and sorrow.

So today I thought about it.  I thought how much fun board games can be for the family.  I thought how we spend so much time at home just sitting in front of the tv or in our own rooms or on a video game or computer.  Then I felt tired.  And I remembered that it takes energy.  Especially with my three-year old around.  She takes a lot of energy.  And I'm just so tired. 

Therefore, I have a feeling we won't play board games tonight, even though it would be nice.

677 Days

Today has been 677 days without my precious Nolan.  I have such a hard time wrapping my head around that still.  Yes, I have accepted it.  I have no choice as it slaps me in the face each day.  I may have to live with it, but I still hate it with every fiber of my being. 

Here's a poem I wrote today as I thought about the last two years.
http://www.bubblews.com/news/9336739-677-days-a-poem

Another Post Titled Thirteen....

Shortly after the loss of my precious son, I wrote a post on here titled Thirteen. 
http://thesorrowful.blogspot.com/2013/02/thirteen.html

It seems impossible that I wrote that nearly two years ago.  How can it be two years since I lost him?   Two years since I kissed him goodnight and watched him walk down the hallway.  The last time to watch him walk down the hallway.

Tonight I wrote a post on my other website about my twelve-year old turning thirteen next week. 
http://www.bubblews.com/news/9325821-thirteen-isn039t-going-to-be-easy-on-me

And I thought how tough THIRTEEN is for me now. 

And I wonder if it is going through Liam's mind that Nolan died right after he turned 13.  Liam is already a worrier.  Is he worried?  Is he scared?

Why do we have to suffer this nightmare?  I still do not understand.  I don't have the faith to understand. 

Warped Thoughts that I Might Think, but Will Never Speak

As I woke the children to start our school day this morning, I walked by the bedroom in which my husband was sleeping (we seem to play musical beds in our house, so today he was sleeping alone in one of the children's rooms.).  As I saw his still body, my brain said to myself "He's probably not dead." 

Seriously. 

Who says crap like that?

Oh yeah, me.  The one who has to face every morning with the fear that I might just find another child dead in his/her bed.  Normally, my husband is awake before I am.  Thus, I am normally not faced with that thought of "is he breathing?"  Today, however, he slept a littler later than I. 

It's really a sucky thing to have to think about each and every day.  There is this fear that is just THERE.  Some mornings it is worse than others.  I think today was worse because I went to bed worrying about my twelve-year old. 

I've also thought things like:  would Nolan still be alive if I had ran away a few years earlier?  (btw, my husband and I had just hit a rough patch like all couples do, it never actually neared divorce... just some less than perfect days of marriage).  But I do wonder if I had changed MY path, that would have changed Nolan's.... and he would have not been anywhere near that HORRIBLE virus that attacked his heart.  So it stands to reason that he would be alive.

What if we had moved?  In 2010, my husband was offered a job in New Mexico.  I had NO desire to move there (neither did hubby).  However, had we moved there, Nolan wouldn't have been near the same germs.  So we would be living in New Mexico as a complete family.  Nolan would be alive if Patrick had taken that job.

I've had other messed up thoughts, but I'm too tired to share them right now. 

Grief is exhausting.

Photo credit:  my own

Worries for the PTSD Mother

 

I'm tired of worrying so much.  I have always been a worrier.  Before I even had children, I had a friend who called me "The Worrying Walrus" (because she had read a children's book titled that).  Add children to the mix and then, of course, I worry about them.  Add the death of my son to our lives, and worry has become an enormous weight. 

So many fears exist now, fears that, perhaps were there, but were miniscule. 

 

My twelve-year old (who turns thirteen next week) worries me.  First of all, I have this worry that I will lose all my children at age thirteen.  It's an unreasonable fear.  I have no valid reason to feel that way.  I'm just scared. 

 

However, my twelve-year old has been complaining of neck pains for almost a week now.  I seriously think it is probably just a pulled muscle.  He feels fine otherwise.  He even remembers when it started, specifically, like he pulled something.  However, it's just not getting any better.  Again, it is probably just a pulled muscle. 

 

But what if it isn't? 

 

I don't know what else it could be, but I'm still scared. 

 

I hate the fear that is in my life now.  I hate it.

Post Traumatic Stress

I suffer from post-traumatic stress because of the death of my son.  I am certain that my children do as well.  I'm not sure about my husband.  He keeps his grief pretty close to his chest.  He also has a much stronger faith than I which seems to help him.

Finding my son dead without warning is an image that is embedded in my brain.  I still hear the screams of my other children.  I still hear my husband saying, "Nolan, don't be dead!" over and over and over.  It has faded a bit after nearly two years, but it's there.  It:  the memory that I never wanted.

Finding out that Nolan's heart simply stopped because of a condition called Myocarditis which was caused by some random every day virus makes raising my living children filled with this big question mark, this huge stress, this worry.

My twelve-year old often complains of chest pains.  He has been to the doctor, the er, a cardiologist many times since Nolan's death.  Everything appears healthy and normal.  Of course, Nolan's heart probably appeared healthy a month before his death as well.  How can I reconcile this?  How can I try to tell my living son that he has nothing to worry about?  I don't want to turn him into a hypochondriac. 

My eleven year old daughter didn't sleep much for the first year or so after Nolan's death.  At some point, she started asking me at night if her heart was ok.  She said it hurt, it felt funny.  We also took her to the specialist for evaluations.  She seems fine as well. 

My eight-year old doesn't seem to worry at this point.  My three-year old was young enough when it happened that I don't think she was phased by everything.  Oh, she misses Nolan, but she didn't understand what was happening when she saw her mother scream and fall to the snow-covered ground. 

Part of the worry I have gives me this horrible feeling of wishing my children would hurry and grow up and move out of the house.  I will always worry about them, always.  But I get so tired and exhausted from the sight of Liam putting his heart over his chest and Ciara asking if she's going to be ok.  I understand it.  And I love them so much.  And down deep, NO, I am not ready for them to grow up and move out.  It's just the stress on top of the grief. 

This myocarditis stuff isn't as rare as you would think.  I am currently a part of a group of people who have been affected by the condition.  This group has over 800 members.  There are many times this is misdiagnosed.   The numbers are much higher than that.  I hear story after story that is like mine where someone went to check on their loved one and he/she was simply dead in bed with no warning. 

It's not fair.  It's not right.

Depressed

there's so much negativity in our house.  i never know how much of it is normal.  how much is due to the death of Nolan.  all i know is that i don't like the way our family treats each other.  i don't like how unhappy i must seem.  how mean.  how grouchy.  i need to find a way to make this family the way it should be.  well, it can't be how it "should" be because Nolan is dead.  but how it can be in his absence.  how can it be happy?

I forgot

I had completely forgotten that I started another blog on here that is to be stories of my sweet boy, Nolan.  my brain is just not the same.  losing a child is so tiring, draining, horrible.  I don't remember stuff often.  I should make a point of writing on there daily.  I miss Nolan so much.

Oh, I had a connection on another site tell me they hope that I just "get over what happened" to my son....  seriously? 

Here's the post I wrote in response.
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8998804-it-actually-happened

Will I Always Feel So Angry?

I wonder at times if I will always feel so angry.  I have such ugly thoughts at times.  Sometimes they are about me, my family, God, other people. 

I'm just filled with hate. 

On a photo that I shared on facebook much like the one I have attached to this post, someone wrote "He is always with you."  And my first hateful thought was, NO HE IS NOT!  HE IS BURIED IN THE GROUND! 

such darkness permeates my being.

And it has aged me.  oh it has aged me. 

And I have gained weight.  I look at myself and cannot believe how horrible I look.  I feel like the ugliness of my soul is showing in the ugliness of me nowadays. 

property of me.

Fall Photos without my Son

On Tuesday, we went to Loose Park to take annual fall photos of the children.  The first fall that I took pictures was 2000 and my son, Nolan was just under a year old.  I remember taking just a few shots of him amid the beautiful colors of the fallen leaves from the nearby maple tree.  He sat upon a black bench holding a leaf.  I didn't really think of the fact that I was starting a tradition.  I was just there, a new mom, with my beautiful beloved child. 

Fall of 2014 would have been the fifteenth year of photographing my children in the lovely autumn setting. 

I skipped 2013.  I didn't necessarily plan to skip it.  I still wanted to keep the tradition because I know that is important for my other children.  But I skipped it because Nolan had died. 

Nolan died on December 31, 2012 sometime in the middle of the night because his heart had been infected by a normal, run-of-the-mill virus. 

When fall of 2013 rolled around, I was suffering immense anxiety and grief, of course, over the loss.  Time got away from me.  We skipped the tradition.

So we dressed up on Tuesday for photos.  Upon arrival at the park, I noticed that many of the leaves were still green.  The lovely fall colors were not to be seen, but we were there.  As our busy schedule makes things like this difficult, I moved forward with the tradition.  It's still fall.  The kids are still beautiful.  I still took photos.

It was difficult to do so without my sweet child.  I was sad.  I was angry.  I yelled at my twelve-year old son because he was misbehaving and I thought he should be understanding that this was tough for me. 

2012

2014

I'm not writing as much about sorrow

It's not that I'm not feeling the sorrow.  I'm just not writing about it as much.  To those who see it on my blogs occasionally, they probably still think "wow, is that all she talks about?"  To me, sometimes I feel like I still have much to say.  Here's a few links to recent things I have written on my other blog.

http://www.bubblews.com/news/8913214-a-mother039s-anxiety
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8821103-praying-when-you-aren039t-sure-what-you-believe
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8631594-visiting-my-son039s-grave
http://www.bubblews.com/news/7835438-i-don039t-know-how-to-be-a-good-mother-anymore
http://www.bubblews.com/news/7823797-before-or-after
http://www.bubblews.com/news/7953982-the-overprotective-mother
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8007979-yoga-tears-and-my-son
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8076169-playlist-for-the-grieving-mother
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8287900-fifteen
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8240402-nolan039s-wish
http://www.bubblews.com/news/8350081-sentimental-for-the-old-days