Grief is described as a multifaceted response to loss, particularly if the loss is someone to which a bond of affection is formed. To me, there is no greater bond of affection than a mother and her child. Mothers love their children from the first second that stick shows a plus sign. I fell in love with both my boys the minute I knew they existed. Dreaming of hair and eye color. Buying clothes and decorating a place both in my home and in my heart for the son who would give me a reason to be. Who would change my heart as no one else. Some little person, so fragile yet so precious who would give my life meaning like nothing I would ever experience again. Only a mother can ever come close to the feeling of holding a new life seconds after birth. Only a mother who buries her child can know the life shattering grief that breaks your heart into pieces that can never be repaired. I’ve heard from so many people since the death of my youngest to the addiction that took his life and altered mine forever, No Mother Should Ever Bury Her Child.
Yes, so true. People say they understand, I say I pray you never do.
Now I am forced to defend my grief.
There is nothing that can be done to heal my broken heart. My son, forever 37, my friend, the man who’s battle we fought together is gone. His demons won and he left me behind to pick up the pieces of what used to be my life. I am a nurse, I took care of others mothers babies. Saving them or holding that mother as she said goodby to the baby born too soon to survive. Now I need someone to hold me and tell me that this nightmare will get less intense. That there will come a morning that the grief doesn’t slap me in the face as soon I wake letting me know Matt is really gone. Memories fill my mind and bring me to my knees. A bag of chips he loved or the whip cream we would share and fight over who got the last squirt. Everyday is filled with pain and the shock that I will never hear his voice or see his smile. To those of you who get to decide how long I get to grieve I say close your eyes and imagine your child is gone forever. No more phone calls, hugs, holidays. Keep those eyes closed until you feel the tightness in your chest and the lump in your throat, this is my life.
To the director of my department, sorry the 12 weeks you can hold my position and expect me to come back and be that ICU nurse that I was before, where has compassion gone. We are a health care facility but we have no compassion.
I have been a nurse at the same facility for 35 years. I paid for an insurance policy for long term disability and now I have to jump through hoops to prove that I am a mess and cannot work caring for critical babies. My doctor has tired of all the forms he filled and faxed to this insurance company, now he tells me he is done that I must got to a specialist for help. Why does the medical community not get it.
There are no pills to cure me. I am grieving my son. A boy who became a man with a horrible disease. He was in my life for 37 years.
How do you put a time limit on a mothers grief. So now on top of everything else so heavy on my heart I have to fight to be given the precious gift of time to grieve. I need to cry whenever the gut punch comes. I need to be comforted not condemned for being a grieving mother. I have never asked for anything from anyone. I pulled my weight, never called out, worked extra shifts. Now I look back and wish those extra shifts were spent with my family. To those of you who don’t get it I pray you never do. There is nothing worse than losing your child and having to defend your brokenness. Just look at my face, my eyes say it all.