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12 of The Hardest Weeks Imaginable

on 15 June, 2018

Today has been tough. First, I realized that 12 weeks has gone by since I lost my baby. Second, after at least being physically okay, I have been hit with a major bug of some sort. I rarely surrender to these annoying 24 hour things, but this one hit hard. After sleeping a rough 12 hours last night, it hit again this afternoon and knocked me out for another four hours. And I don’t think it will go easy on my tonight, as its already 9:30 and I feel like I should head back to bed this very minute.

I happened to pick a movie to try to watch and so far the repeated phrase “Streeter would have loved this movie” keeps going round and round in my head. I swear on all that is holy that I heard him coming down the stairs from his room. I kept waiting for him to come ’round the corner and give me his standard “hey, momma momma” and I would ask him to sit and watch with me.

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I’m just wrecked. For the past three months it has been difficult to breathe let alone job hunting and house hunting and sorting and organizing all the crap in this house. I feel like there should be some special program for parents who’ve lost a child so that they can set aside the normal day-to-day and just grieve.

I think that I must still be in a state of shock or something. My mind races between our lives prior to this to finding him and now to have a small box of ashes that once was him. No more ‘just one more hug or kiss’, no more of our favorite outings and destinations. Just no more him.

His birthday is just two weeks away. I know that I am going to be stupid shocked… my beautiful boy would have been 23. Now he will forever be 22. This is just not fair. And it makes me angry and confused and lost. After all, who am I if I weren’t Streeter’s mom? I know that there was a me before him, but I don’t remember that person. I mean, who was I twenty-three  years ago (other than someone who was desperate to have a child)? Like I said to my therapist, when he was born it was like taking my own heart and giving it to him. And now that he is gone, should I not be gone as well? Who can live without a heart?

And spending so much time and money just to get him into this world and everything I’ve invested in raising him, there is no ‘going back’ to who I once was. Having a child (or children) changes you forever. There simply is no option to resume a life that is past. I used to be called  ‘JBG’, but she no longer exists. And for the past decades, I have and will always be, “Streeter’s Mom”.

I think I am going to back to bed. Take some hardcore-make-me-sleep-and-perhaps-not dream kind of drugs.

I just don’t know how this will ever get better for me. One woman in one of my groups lost her son 17 years ago and she still grieves and cries for him. I just don’t think I have 5 or 10 years to give to grieving, let alone 17.

Streeter's Mom Final


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