This is probably not the “return of Loralee” post a lot of you were hoping for. The title is indicative about what the focus is. It is not funny. It is not pretty. There are a few disturbing mental images. It’s also very long and not the best thing I’ve written. This is one of those posts where I just write and give the middle finger to the editing process.
You don’t have to read it. You don’t have to comment although you are more than welcome to. I certainly don’t expect it. People can only say they are sorry so many times, you know? If you do though, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. People and their kindness is why I have gotten through to the point that I have.
I’m writing this for me, because I need to.
September 23rd marked five years since my son, Matthew passed away.
Obviously, today is Thursday, the 25th not Tuesday, the 23rd. I didn’t write a post about it on his anniversary. There are a lot of reasons why, but what it came down to is that I needed to write a post about it today.
Many people think that September 23, 2003 was the worst day of my life. They aren’t far from correct, but if you get down to the nitty gritty, the most horrible day of my life was Thursday, September 25th.
That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to you, does it? I don’t blame you. I would have made the same assumption. In many ways that day WAS the worst day of my life. It was forever altered, ripped apart by the worst loss there is.
The day Matthew died was an ordinary Tuesday, except it was really, really busy. I ran a lot of errands and my parents came over to help me with fall cleaning. I still have the “To do do” list I planned for that day tucked away in a journal. Bleaching the grout in my shower was on there but “have your life shatter into a billion pieces because your baby will die today” was nowhere on it.
For a long time afterward, I would stand with water streaming over me in my shower and stare at that grout and feel grief that hours I could have spent with my son on the day he died were taken up cleaning that dingy grout in my shower with a Clorox bleach pen and a toothbrush.
It so wasn’t worth it.
The late afternoon came with an exhausted me and a request from my sister to come and make some beef stew because she had a mammogram earlier in the day and then had to take her girls out to get homecoming dresses. I didn’t want to go. I was so tired. My sister is more like my mom and she’d do anything for me and I’d anything for her. I knew she was exhausted and her family had been dealing with a whole lot of trauma and ugly things that I am not free to write about here.
So, I told Jonathan that I was going up the street to help her and he asked if I was taking the boys with me. “Of course not! Just bring them up for dinner. I’m making enough for everyone. I’ll call you.”
Matthew was asleep in his swing. I stopped to look at him and then I walked out the door.
The next time that I saw him he was minutes from being pronounced dead, laying white and lifeless on a gurney in the trauma bay of the ER.
If any of you have been near a baby lately you will know what I mean when I say that babies are not supposed to be STILL. Some part of them is always moving, squeeling, cooing, jerking. It is sooooo WRONG to see one lay as still as my son was.
Jonathan was sobbing, and I was desperately trying to process everything that was happening and that had happened in the previous half hour since the phone rang at my sister’s house, bringing my nieces screaming into the living room that the baby wasn’t breathing and me tearing like mad to get to a car and drive down the street to my house.
There were so many emergency vehicles all over the lawn and side of my house that for a moment I thought my entire family had died. Jonathan was with Matthew in a red fire department ambulance that tore away from the curb just as I arrived so I hopped in a police car with my sister and got as much information as I could about the situation from the policeman who was driving us MUCH TOO SLOWLY to the hospital.
Apparently, Jonathan checked on Matthew and then 20 minutes later checked on him again. He called 911 and began CPR.
20 minutes.
20.
That is a long time to be without oxygen and it was very much on my mind as I stared at the monitors in the ER.
It’s odd what your brain can pick up on. I noticed that the nurse standing nearest to me was wearing light blue scrubs and that she had a hot pink butterfly barrett holding her dark hair to the side of her ponytail.
Somewhere mind registered that my shoulder was throbbing because when I arrived by police escort to the hospital the door to the bay was locked and instead of knocking or waiting, some inner motherly instinct to get to my child at all costs took over and I hysterically slammed my body against the door to break it down.
They wouldn’t let me in the room unless I could “be calm and let the doctors work”. It took me a moment to speak because when I got the call that Matthew wasn’t breathing I literally screamed and screamed and screamed until my body gave out and wouldn’t let me anymore. I rasped out that I would do whatever the hell they wanted just let me GET TO MY BOY.
There were so many doctors and nurses gathered around him that I couldn’t see Matthew’s face. He was only wearing a diaper and one little sock.No matter how hard I tried to keep coverings on all my son’s toes, he seemed to perpetually have one sock or bootie missing.
I keep that one little sock in the drawer of my nightstand to this day.
There were huge, horrible syringes with big needles jabbed deep into the front of his legs. It looked so painful. Tubes were everywhere and monitors were beeping and alarms kept going off. When the nurse moved away to write on the white board, I saw a large, burly man in scrubs administering CPR very quickly with just two fingers.
I continued to stare at the monitors with readings that resembled a lie detector when it’s recording someone in the middle of a whopper.
Some part of me knew that something was wrong. I don’t know how else to describe it other than I have been an actress almost my whole life and I know when I am seeing a performance. They were doing what they were doing so Jonathan and I would know that they tried everything medically possible to save him.
I am an almost completely emotional person but at that moment I was almost completely analytical. I continued to take in information and analyze and I kept going back to the fact that Jonathan didn’t know how long Matthew had been without oxygen.
20 minutes…
I kept thinking over and over just how long that is for a brain to go without oxygen.
It took me years to admit, even to myself, but in those moments a tiny little voice wondered, “If they revive Matthew and he is horribly brain damaged, could I deal with that? Do I want him alive at any cost? Even if he is severely impaired?”
Not a pretty thing to know you thought as they were working on your kid, huh?
It caused a lot of pain and damage and guilt for me over the years.
I asked the doctor to level with me and be very blunt.
“How does it look for him?”
“Not good.”
I took a deep breath in and said, “Oh.”
After a few more minutes, the activity seemed to decrease and I knew what everyone in that room was thinking, but didn’t want to say.
So, I did.
I told them they could stop and I moved in next to my son and laid over him and broke into more pieces than I will ever be able to put back together.
I had little breaks in my sobbing where I would pull back and take in exactly what was done to my son in the process of trying to save his life. He was intubated and very obviously…dead.
Do you know one of the most horrible things for me in those moments?
There was a very large part of me that was totally freaked out by it EVEN THOUGH HE WAS MY SON. I think that most humans are just ingrained to fear death and dead bodies.I had never seen a body that wasn’t already prepared for burial and I did not think that my son would be the first.
It was horrible.
I made myself look at his eyes because I didn’t want to be afraid. I didn’t want to be afraid of the body of my sweet little son and yet…I was. The were blank and empty and not at all like they should have been.
I know quite a bit about the death process, but there is nothing that can prepare you to hear the slow, hissing, congested “death rattle” that happens as the oxygen is exiting the body for the last time. Worse than the sound was that even though I KNEW what was happening there was a tiny, tiny flare of hope that somehow it was a miracle and that he could survive. That flicker would die as fast as it came and bring on a fresh wave of grief and despair.
There was so much that went on that was highly emotional and gut-wrenching, but if I ever want this post to end, I will skip ahead three hours to when Matthew and I parted. I was sooooo freaked out by images of a metal gurney and him laying on it with a sheet over his head and I did.not.want. to let him go. I only able to because his body started to change. It was getting cold and there was blood that started to settle in different places and I couldn’t watch it happen. So, I told the nurses that I was ready for the funeral director to take him.
The people in the funeral business know what they are doing.
There was no stretcher.
The very big man with kind eyes in a dark suit told me that he was going to carry him out in his arms. It made me sob with gratitude that he was going to continue to be held and that I wouldn’t have to see him wheeled away covered up.
He held out his arm so that I could transfer Matthew over to him and he did not move one solitary muscle to take him.
He waited stock still until I, as Matthew’s mother, GAVE him up and allowed him to go.
Somehow he knew how very, very important it was for me to not have my son taken from me any more than he already had been, but for me to say it was ok to take him away.
I didn’t think it was possible to break any further, but I did in that moment.
I had to be sedated.
I went home and thanks to a shot and a hefty supply of pills, one of the worst nights of my life came to a close.
So…what could be possibly be worse than that?
The day I went to the mortuary.
Matthew died early Tuesday evening.
Wednesday was spent running around like a crazy person making arrangements, buying duplicates of everything I could get my hands on that Matthew would be buried with, finding a burial outfit, answering a million questions and making more decisions than I thought were possible. We spent a very long time at the mortuary writing Matthew’s obituary and making decisions about the funeral. 
They laid out the basics about what was going to happen with Matthew and what I would have to do to prepare his body for burial. I asked where has was at the moment.
“They just got back from Salt Lake with him.”
“Why was he in Salt Lake?”
“That is where the medical examiner’s office is. He had to be autopsied.”
I felt like I had been punched. It took me a moment to be able to breathe but still…knowing he was in the same building was both comforting and unbearable.
“Oh. Of course. I forget. Can I see him?”
“I say this honestly…you do not want to see him right now. He’ll be ready for you to view tomorrow.”
As hard as it was, I knew he was right.
So, Thursday we went to the mortuary to dress him for the funeral on Friday.
This whole grief thing has been pretty tricky to figure out. I will probably deal with it my whole life, but at least I have finally realized some things about myself that have helped somewhat. I haven’t been doing well. There has been a lot going on this month and very little of it has been good. Adding Matthew’s anniversary to it has made me come undone a little.
I have had such kindness from so many. Loving words from people that I adore. That is what gets me through. Still…I have noticed this year quite a few remarks that have almost made me feel ashamed of myself for being grief-stricken during this anniversary. Like when my sister told a mutual acquaintance that I was struggling and they replied, “HOW long has it been?” Another person that read some of my writings about Matthew was surprised it had been almost five years because the way that I wrote made them think that it had happened very recently. I have news for people; sometimes it seems like it’s been a lifetime since he died and other moments it feels like only seconds have passed.
Helpful , well-meaning people have wanted me to look for “the good” on the day. The positive things about having Matthew in my life at all. Here is the thing. For starters, I am an extremely pessimistic person. Life has made me this way. I’m beyond a ‘glass is half-empty’ type of person. It’s more like, “There is no effing glass. The glass is all a freaking LIE.” So, looking at the positive is always a struggle for me, although I do usually try.
For another, I do this on other days. I think about the good times with Matthew a lot. On his birthday, we don’t even go to the cemetery. We take our kids out and to do something fun as a family and it is the same with most holidays. We talk about the things we love and remember about him and the joy he brought us. I’m just NOT able to do that on his anniversary. And believe me, I have tried.
After five years of puzzling it out, I have finally come to some reasons why this is. For one, Matthew died right as the season changes in full force. The changes in the visual aspects of the year are evident and the most difficult thing to deal with is the smell of the air. It changes from the warm, earthy smell of summer to the cold, smoky crisp of autumn and it always brings a flood of memories that slam into me with the first whiff of it.
But above everything, I think that it has to do with the sheer trauma of the situation.
Death IS trauma.
Even in best case scenarios, which I had.
And this time of year I am hit again and again and again by horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE mental images and memories. I have a clotting disorder. I have made peace with it but I know that at any moment, I could throw a clot and either be severely injured or killed by it. Grief is a bit similar. Sometimes you will be going about a very normal day and BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It rears up and overwhelms you in the blink of an eye.
I also know that there are situations where I am more prone to clotting. Long periods of sitting or laying and during pregnancies. So, I am full or more dread during those times, preparing and bracing the best I can. I walk around, inject myself daily in the abdomen with heparin and wear compression socks. It is very like this time of year during the buildup to his anniversary. I brace myself for what is to come. I know that the chances of reliving the hell of it all is much more likely. I have done as much as I can to prepare and heal but it’s just like battening down the hatches and pray that I make it through the hurricane without too much damage.
I am VERY aware that for someone who has lost a child I had about the best possible circumstances you could have. Parents of dead children are all in this horrible club that nobody wants to be a part of and as far as that club is concerned I am a platinum member because my son had perhaps the easiest, gentlest death that is possible for a human to have. I didn’t have to watch him suffer, he wasn’t maimed or tortured. He did not suffer. He literally went to sleep and didn’t wake up.
However, that doesn’t mean that it was easy.
No.
No, it wasn’t.
For a day-and-a-half I had been torturing myself with thoughts of my poor baby laying on a steel stretcher and laying in a refrigerated compartment.
I can’t tell you what that feels like. To know your baby is laying on something harsh, hard and cold.
It seemed like I waited forever before I could get in to see Matthew and each second that ticked by made me more and more agitated until I was about ready to go nuclear over everyone and tell them to get the fuck out of the way because I was frantic, frantic, FRANTIC to GET TO MY BABY.
Before I was allowed in the funeral director told me, “He’s right through here and I want you to know that he has been laying on that table since he got here.”
I was confused until I saw Matthew. He WAS on a gurney, but it wasn’t the cold steel contraption of my nightmares. Have you ever heard of a pillow-top gurney? Well, this was one. The table was covered with a soft, puffy almost bean-bag-esque top that was soft and comfy and it made me break down and sob with relief.
It may not have mattered at ALL to Matthew, but it mattered to ME.
After my brain registered what he was laying, on I saw my boy.
My little bug.
My Matthew.
That minute was a mixture of some of the most intense feelings of my life.
There was relief. I had never been away from Matthew for very long in his little life and so going that long without having him near me was unbearable. I was seeing him again and the sheer relief of being physically near him overwhelming.
But.
Here is the thing. Why I say that Thursday was the worst day of my life.
Because Wednesday was full of sedatives and a million decisions and running around and Tuesday was surreal. The sheer, physical SHOCK that I went into acted as a buffer in a way. Even though I watched him die. It didn’t seem real. Even though his body was starting to change when the funeral director took him away, he was still Matthew. My little bug. Not too different than the sweet baby I tickled, nursed, cooed at, hugged, kissed, bathed and rocked to sleep eleventyhundred times.
Staring down at him on that gurney, he looked the same in many ways but so, so different.
In that horrible moment my body felt like every nerve ending in my body was doused in gasoline and set on fie and my mind screamed and howled and broke apart as IT SANK IN.
Sank in that he was dead and never, ever coming back.
It isn’t like I didn’t know that before, I did. But it didn’t seem real. None of it seemed real. It seemed like any moment someone was going to say, “Wake the hell up, Loralee! You’re having a nightmare!”
Nothing will hammer reality in closer to home than seeing the effects of your baby’s skull being sawed in half, stuffed, and pieced back together by a staple gun.
He had been split in half and had his entire chest and torso opened up. The Y incision took up most of his body.
How’s that for something to think about in the dead of the night? The image and knowledge that your baby had literally been sawed in half, ripped open, stuffed and then stapled back together.
I always have a problem when I think of babies and little children that have surgeries. Their skin is so delicate and fragile and the thought of cutting into it makes me shudder and cringe horribly.
I went to pick him up to dress him and he…crinkled. You know, from the stuffing that filled the cavities of his body. His skin was harder and looked “set”. Almost like a doll. He didn’t smell right. He still smelled somewhat like him but there were also medical smells tinged with formaldehyde mixed in.
To see my son in this state has left scars on my mind, soul and heart that I will never heal from.
I rarely sleep and never sleep well because I have the most godawful nightmares you can imagine. Flashbacks. Anxiety attacks. I suffered from PTS and had so much fallout from it that I am still suffering five years later.
I have just have more ability to stay quiet about it.
In fact, I really thought I would be able to write more about this. I certainly set it up to write about mostly about “The most horrible day of my life”. I wanted to try and heal from some of that trauma and things that I saw but sitting here, I can’t do it. I spent more time writing about the day he died than the day I went to the mortuary.
I guess maybe that is illustrative of how bad it was, huh?
Just know that there is more. So much more that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to write or speak of but I also know I will never, ever be able to forget it. Maybe I should have just posted this photo instead of making you read all of this. Like many of my photos of Matthew because we didn’t have a digital camera, It’s not the best photo. The quality is poor. My sister is the way. The lighting and exposure is bad, but it sums up that moment for me.
I just have to hope that one day it continues to get easier to bear. And it has to a point. Just not this time of year. Not this week in particular.
So, you’ll have to forgive me for not being all sorts of giggles and kicks. I’ll pull it together soon, I won’t leave this up for long and I do have a few light-hearted things to write about in mind. I needed to write this. To get it out. I’m sorry it was so long. It could have been much, much longer.
Please for all that is holy do not tell me to focus on the joy right now or look for the silver lining or make lemonade out of lemons, ok? I KNOW, ok? Really, I DO. And most other times of the year I DO. I have WONDERFUL moments and memories of Matthew. Just not right now.
Let me have my grief for a bit.
Thank you for listening and being there.
I appreciate more than I can say.
Stumble it!
Filed under: 
*Hugs*
I’m sorry. I wish had a more eloquent comment than that.
Missys last blog post..I’m Going to Graduation, parentheses, The Graduation Song
I never know what to say. Just want to say that I care. That I came by and read your story and (while it does not bring back your little angel) I’m sorry.
I have to say…
…that I’m up this late at night because of my own trama. WHEE!
I wont tell you to focus on the good, or anything myopic like making lemons out of lemonade.
Part of me wants to be “cute” and tell you to focus on not dropping the car on your friend.
But even my off-the-wall sense of humor is inappropriate sometimes.
What I will say is this:
If I could hug you, I would.
Not that that would really help either.
Let me also say:
Grief is a good thing. You should allow yourself to do so. Take your leave for grieve. People will always give you their myopic little weenie words, which, thought well-intended, just hurt worse (or anger you).
If my leg really were magic, I’d wave it around and make it all go away. Since I can’t, I hope you’ll accept my thoughts, well wishes, prayers, and whatever moral support I am capable of.
Always, me.
P.S. Wanna penny?
fwooms last blog post..Why Doesn’t Someone Tell Her?
crying for you hun :(
sarah beans last blog post..Good Stuff
Oh, Loralee. My heart is broken for you. I wish I could give you a hug and tell you everything is going to be all right. We both know that this will never be all right though. So I hope you’ll settle for the hug.
I really don’t think I could have made it as far as you have without breaking into a million pieces. You are such a strong, beautiful person. I will wish for a little peace to find its way your heart very, very soon. You certainly deserve it.
amazing. i have been experiencing a huge trauma in my life lately, but i know it can’t compare to what you have been through. the quote “a heart can be broken, but it goes on beating just the same” from fried green tomatoes seems quite appropriate. when i feel like i can’t possibly go on my heart keeps on beating, and i have to. i don’t have a choice. i’m glad you are going on.
and thanks for introducing me to matthew over these past several months. i’ve loved getting to know him.
natalies last blog post..The moon over Europe – a week later.
Loralee,
There aren’t words to express how you made me feel. I too have lost a child, though my Mae was at birth, so I was unfortunate not to know my baby, but I can assure you the pain was real. I’d like to wring your acquaintence’s neck. May she never have to endure what you went through. She speaks out of inexperience and ignorance. And in return you you should explain to her that she’s an ignorant person who should keep her bloody mouth shut.
I will tell you this: 8 years later, I STILL have a hard time on my daughter’s deathday/week. You grieve honey, because it is your right as Matthew’s mother. I hate to say it, but it never ever will be easier. Eventually you will start to repress the feelings, because society makes us feel we should. But you will never ever forget. And that is ok. you take as long as YOU need to grieve for your son. Because no one knows you better and they have no right to tell you to get over it faster.
I read every post you write. I knew you had lost your son. I am very sorry that you have to be in this “club” of sorts, having lost your child. But at the same time, I want you to know you helped me today. You helped me to remember a few moments of repressed memory from my month of hell. So thank you, Loralee. I hope you are able to get through the rest of this week and month alright. And if you ever wanna just talk, please feel free to e-mail me. I will at least be able to empathize with you, because I’ve been there too.
take care and many virtual hugs to you
~Cissa Fireheart
Cissa Firehearts last blog post..Work all night…sleep all day!
Writing with tears in my eyes and clogging my nose…
People may try to tell you ways to make it easier, but of course there is no way. I hope you’ll remember that the figure you saw in the mortuary was NOT your son, just the outward symbol of him. He was already somewhere else altogether, not there on the table. It wasn’t your baby who was stitched up, your baby is still in your arms and always will be.
There’s nothing you can do except let yourself grieve, and spend as much time with your boys as you possibly can. Absorb life through them, and when they’re not around, just let yourself be with Matthew…You’ll get through this, with him and for him.
*hug*
I’m so sorry – losing a child goes against everything. It’s just not right.
Antique Mommy sums it up in her post today…http://antiquemommy.com/2008/09/25/a-flaw/
Yvonnes last blog post..Success!
My heart is breaking for you, Loralee. I cannot imagine your pain, but just know that I love you. Truly.
Angellas last blog post..Jill Will Run
My son’s birthday would have been in September… my father died September 23… this is a tough month for me also…
I want to put my arms around you and just sit and cry with you.
People will say, “It gets better with time.” But does it? How much time? How much better? We just learn to ACT like it gets better. We learn to hold things inside more, because even the people who love us the most want to stop thinking about the pain.
We learn to turn away from situations that will bring the memories back. Then we feel guilty…
I saw counselors, psychiatrists, doctors, for years … I have been on so many kinds of tranquilizers, avoided baby showers for years.
One of the things I’m doing now to heal is make quilts for ‘Project Linus’. I could never wrap my little one in a blanket, so I’m making blankets and quilts for other little ones. Does it help? Somewhat…
Sorry this is so long. My heart goes out to you, and I just wish I could wrap my arms around you and just let you cry on my shoulder…
Be well, Loralee,I love you.
Sharons last blog post..A Fall Walk…
Thank you for sharing your little Bug with us.
I don’t cry often, but am now feeling overwhelmed by your pain and the fact that no-one can take it from you. We can love you and say sorry, but can’t live your life for you.
Am praying that you are surrounded by love and are able to move through this grief – not to end it, but also not to stay still in it, to allow yourself to move all the way through your whole life. If I were with you I would wrap my arms around you and hold you as you cried, but I’m not, so I pray that you, Jonathon, James and Christopher have people who will hold you together.
Looking forward to hearing more from you when you’re ready.
Oh, honey, I am sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks. That post was so real and raw and full of emotion… it was beautiful.
I wish I could give you a hug.
No one can tell you the right way to grieve for YOU. You do what you need to, when you need to, because it’s YOUR process. The only timetable it follows is yours, and however you work through it is okay.
I really wish I could give you a hug.
And I’m so, so sorry…
Kemis last blog post..Etsy Headbands
Thank you for sharing this story, Loralee. You’ve reminded me to hold my loved ones a little closer.
Britts last blog post..Question: Who’s harder to photograph?
I’m so sorry Loralee. My heart is broken reading this. Grieve. Grieve for as long as you need.
I can never imagine what you’ve been through and what you continue to go through every year (and every day). You have every right to grieve the way you need to, anyone who says you should be better because it’s been 5 yrs needs slapped. *hugs* That’s all I can do from here.
You are amazingly strong for posting this, seriously.
As usual, I don’t know anything good to say. Probably nobody really does. But I pray that you’ll be able to come through this time unscathed.
Camilles last blog post..He Calls Martha "Martha," and I Call Him Eddie Ross.
I’m just so sorry.
With sincere, deep sympathy and love,
Chris
Oh Dearest Loralee! How I understand. It seems unfair that I do, that anyone including you should understand this kind of pain; as you so aptly put it this trauma.
I wish I had sage words to offer in comfort, but sadly, I have none other than I know and I understand. September is a horrid month for me, for US, as well. So just know that my heart is aching for you and that my spirit is with you; in experience, thought and comfort.
I am sending a little sunshine your way that these dark days surrounding you are brightened by knowing that you have support, kind friends and love.
XO
4s last blog post..Out the end of a dying camel….
So, so sorry Loralee.
I wish I could give you a big hug right now!
Take care of yourself….
Connies last blog post..Prayers Needed
I’m thinking of you Loralee. Take your time. There are no rules for this and that it happens and people have to go through it seems unimaginable.
((Hugs))
I’m here for you and so are many others. Whatever you need to talk about we’ll be here to listen.
Love you.
SparklieSunShines last blog post..TV Kills
I cannot possibly comprehend how much pain you must be in still. Know that we love you and pray for you and will never push you to get over your loss. Hugs to you on this tough day.
Carries last blog post..The weekend recap- full of angst, feel free to ignore
As the tears wash down my cheeks and dry into the whiskers of my beard, and the last of words you’ve written have flashed beyond my eyes, the only thing I can say is you needn’t ever apologize for the length of these words. Thank you.
Wills last blog post..Secret Lovers
My mother lost a baby before I was born, and it’s something that I have seen her struggle with every year. I’m 35. My mother tells me you’re never the same after losing a child. Don’t beat yourself up that the grief is still new in some ways.
I’m just really sorry. I wish you healing.
HeatherPrides last blog post..They’re BAAAAAAaaaaaack
I’m so sorry. I can’t begin imagine your heartbreak. There shouldn’t be any expectations about the length of your grief, because it’s YOURS. It belongs to you, and your family, and people who imply that it isn’t are so wrong. Matthew was a beautiful baby, and even though I don’t know you, I’m wiping away tears at his loss. Please take care, and thank you for sharing his story.
Dear heart, I knew you had withdrawn because things were overwhelming. Know that you are in my heart and my thoughts. Be kind to yourself.
witchypoos last blog post..Anxiety
There is no time limit on grieving. We all deal with it in our own way. I can not imagine laying it all out on the table like that. Thank you for letting me get to know you and your Matthew more. Lots of Hugs.
Wow.. your writing is so real, so powerful and so pain-filled. I just wish that we could take some of that pain away.. I am crying for you and for the loss of that luminous, beautiful boy..
Sometimes there aren’t words to say, but you want someone to know that you are hearing her. This is one of those times. We are listening. Thank you for sharing with us.
My heart breaks for you. Have your grief. Take your own time. Know that people out here are loving you and holding you up, from afar.
Big hug, much love.
sizzles last blog post..Unapologetically Me
today, you made my life a little easier. i had that same phone call two years ago. i only left the house to go pick my eldest up from the childminder, i was gone ten minutes. i still blame myself for not being there, even though i know it wouldn’t have changed a thing. i hope that one day i can be as open as you about all that has happened, but the wounds still aren’t healed enough. you give me hope that one day they will be. i just wanted to say thankyou.
I am so sorry about your loss. It is truly unimaginable.
It’s so sad and just one more reminder of the horrors of SIDS and the importance of babies being put into their cribs to sleep, rather than swings, bouncy chairs, or car seats.
http://www.ndhealth.gov/SIDS/Publications/SidsBrochure.pdf
I have tears streaming down my face as I read this…..a night mare i cannot imagine…I wish you peace as soon as you are able…((((HUGS)))
Thank you for sharing this. I wish there was more I could say, something to help… I wish you strength.
/hug
I brought you back a pack of digestive biscuts…
Bridges last blog post..i never said i was good at math
I only met you at BlogHer and you are one of the bravest people I know. Thank you so much for sharing all of this.
Genies last blog post..Everybody’s doing it …
@Angela Whitney.
I’m sure that you meant to be kind and spread the word about SIDS prevention.
I guess you felt like I really needed to be reminded that I contributed in my sons death today.
Wait, it gets better.
When Matthew died he was sleeping on his stomach on my bed because he would not sleep more than five minutes at a time on his back or side and we finally, finally just gave up. He was on my bed because we didn’t have room for his crib as the renovations to my house weren’t complete.
Oh, and he was congested and even though I thought about taking him to the doctor she would have just told me it was the sniffles (which she confirmed) but still…I didn’t take him in.
The medical examiner made it quite clear just what part I played in it all and what part I didn’t.
If it makes you feel any better the knowledge of that played a big part in downing two bottles of Lithium in an ice field two years after his death because I felt like I played a part in destroying everything that I touched and wasn’t fit to live.
I would take it back if I could.
I will never forgive myself.
In a million years I would never recover from something like this. Any of it.
For someone I’ve never met and for something I’ve never experienced, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the man who let you give Matthew to him, and that Matthew was laying on soft blankets when you got to see him. I can imagine that would be very important to me.
Don’t let the people who don’t understand have an ounce of your energy. In 50 years you will have a gaping wound in your heart where Matthew was supposed to be. This is not something a living, breathing, loving human being gets over.
On another note, you have inspired me to cherish. So, thank you.
Angelas last blog post..Complete With Pictures
I am so sorry.
I don’t know what else to say. I am in tears for you right now.
annas last blog post..I’m out
Oh Loralee, honey my heart is truly aching for you right now. As I told you before, I have walked in your shoes and I never would wish this grieving process on anyone.
I can’t offer you words of comfort. I can’t tell you that it’s going to get better because it really never does.
I can only tell you that not only today but everyday, I will continue to pray for you to find what semblance of peace and normalcy you need.
Crickys last blog post..Quirky
ps – @Angelina Whitney – your words are true, but your timing sucks.
Crickys last blog post..Quirky
I don’t think I could ever lay my baby on his stomach, no matter what the reason was. I’m sorry for your loss but I can’t pretend that is ok for a mom to do.
I do need to reemphasize that I am very, very sorry for your loss.
I just don’t think Angela was too out of line only because the subject is so important. I am sure that if reading that comment helps one mom not lay their child down in a swing or on their tummy and not have their baby die of SIDS you would take some emotional pain to prevent another mom from going through it, right?
that is all I meant.
I don’t think a mom ever gets over something like this. You’re right, it is trauma and it’s so difficult to understand…
We had a very, very close shave recently with our son – to the point that I’m still haunted by the ‘what ifs’ and the potential there was for a truly tragic outcome.
I am absolutely heartbroken for you – but I am also incredibly grateful to have read this – which reminds me to cherish my kids all the more, and be eternally grateful that we dodged a bullet with our son a few weeks ago.
You, your family, and your precious Bug are in our prayers.
Annies last blog post..Not Today
i don’t have the words, Loralee. i never have the right words. i cannot imagine the pain you must feel. All i have are hugs, my friend. sending you lots and lots of hugs today.
alis last blog post..clearly this post has not had enough coffee yet today…
Oh Loralee. I am so so sorry. No matter how many years go by, I am sure the hurt- just as much as the love you feel for Matthew- can never go away. You will never forget, but that means you will never forget him. And you should never be expected to “get over it” – how ridiculous. I only hope that as time goes by that you feel more peace and I hope that sharing this story has lifted a weight off of you today.
I am thinking of you,
Stephanie
Loralee,
My heart hurts for you & your family. It’s so incredibly brave of you to put your feelings out there & share what this week means to you. Take all the time you need to grieve.
I was holding it together pretty well until you talked about the man from the funeral home. For some reason, his compassion and kindness made me lose the little control I had going. I am so sorry and it was a privilege to read this. Thank you for sharing something so personal.
Mary Beths last blog post..CHANGING SEASONS
I read your post and cried for you loss. And then I read the comment above by Anonymous and just got angry. And so, I apologize for all of the assholes that are reading this and feel it is necessary to stick a knife into a horrible open wound.
Aside from the fact that nowhere did I read that he was lying down on his stomach.
Get a life anonymous.
Renée aka Mekhismoms last blog post..Wordful Wednesday
I peruse the comments through my tears of sadness for you Loralee only to have my vision clouded by anger at those that don’t know that there’s a time and place for everything and the comment section of this post, today, was neither.
Ugh. I’m sorry Loralee. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I want to say it anyway.
I don’t have words and I cannot imagine how you feel. My heart aches for you and your family.
KD @ A Bit Squirrellys last blog post..Reunion Recap: the Good, the Gorgeous and the Gay
I don’t have the right words to say in response to your story. It’s horrible and no mother should ever have to go through that. I’m so sorry you lost your little Bug. And I’m sorry that some people don’t have enough sense to STFU and just not comment at all. They can take their self righteous attitudes to some other blog that gives a damn.
You are so strong and you are a wonderful mother. Don’t ever forget that.
You don’t owe any fake positiveness to anyone. You grieve and deal how you need to.
I am more sorry than I can express.
xo
@Anon, you are completely without class. Just because you’ve been lucky doesn’t make you a better parent.
No one should short you your grief~ no matter how f*in long it has been. I couldn’t imagine losing a child and would never try and suggest to another mother that their own way of getting through this is less than it should be. My heartfelt sympathy goes out to you. The rest of the world be damned. You do this the way you need to.
I do want to let you know though that your writing has really made me stop and think about the little things we take for granted. Thinking that grout is so important (or whatever else it may be at the time). I’m the type of person that needs to be reminded to take a step back and relish each and every moment with my children cause I let all the stupid stuff overwhelm what is really important. Thank you for that.
Tempered Womans last blog post..No Eggs. No Milk. No Cream.
July 08 was 25 years for me, it still feels like yesterday sometimes. I don’t care what people think, you feel what you feel. Whatever works for you, you do. I still cry, only not as much. But the loss is still raw…Peace be with you
My prayer for you is that the writing of this post will have driven out more demons and have been cathartic for you.
I send you blessings, my friend. Thank you for telling the truth. The truth that sometimes, no matter how good you try to be, life just sucks more horribly than you thought possible. Thank you for the truth.
I send you love and blessings.
I think some of the people commenting (hello anonymous!) need to learn some tact. You’re not helping anyone and you’re making yourself look like an jerk.
My mouth honestly dropped when I read that comment. Keep it to yourself.
SparklieSunShines last blog post..TV Kills
i’m wordless (and you know THAT doesn’t happen very often! ;P)…
the world is a better place with you in it. hugs to you.
I don’t have anything profound to say except I feel like I need to reach out to you and tell you how sorry I am… and how disgusted I am by a few of the comments above mine. Your story is heartbreaking – I wish I could offer you more than the mental hugs and support I’m giving you now.
Keelys last blog post..Politico
i love you loralee. i’m proud of you.
@angela whitney – while i’m not sure what was going through your mind when you wrote this, but, how insensitive can you get? not a nice thing to do. be glad lor is a better person than i am. i don’t know you, but i’m disappointed in you.
I’m very sorry for your loss and pain. It’s ok to hurt.
I last saw my daughters on Thursday, November 22. They died on Friday, November 23, 2007. Wednesday, November 25, 2007 was the day we buried them. That was the worst day. I didn’t see them after they were killed, as it was an auto collision at 102 mph. The funeral director told me they were not viewable.
I feel your pain. I am so sorry.
Kims last blog post..Free* Lunch
I’m sorry.
Angelina Whitney and Anonymous, have you no heart? Do you not have the ability to see and understand that your suggestions and comments are not what a grieving mother needs or wants to hear? If you take anything from this, please learn a little tact. If not for Loralee, than for every other grieving parent you may ever encounter.
Loralee, someone told me something once that I found helped in these situations. They said that some people are sent to Earth for a short time because their light is so brilliant, they are here to teach everyone else to shine. Matthew looks like one of the brightest stars of all. Know that your story has taught us all a little something about love and loss and taking that extra minute to smell the roses. I may never have seen your face, but you have certainly touched my heart. I will carry you in my thoughts today. With Love and Gratitude, Audrey.
I’m so sorry for loss. Years don’t easily wash away a searing pain like that runs that deep. Take your time and do what you need.
Jims last blog post..Office Tour
I can’t believe people are telling you to see the joy or make lemonade! Not around his anniversary! I can only imagine what this would be like. I am so, so, sorry. I wish I could do something for you, and hopefully my joining in with a stupid ’sorry’ will help in some way.
And I doubly cannot believe that Angelina and anonymous commented about SIDS. Are they aware that previously the recommendation was for babies to sleep on their stomachs? Are they aware that a large percentage of SIDS deaths happen in a crib, where a baby is laid on their back? Are they aware that many babies will roll from side or back to tummy while they are sleeping, even at 3 months old? Get a grip people. I cannot believe they could actually hit ‘Submit Comment’, especially ‘Anonymous’.
Oh, Loralee. I am so sorry. Thanks for sharing all of this with us, I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but I hope it lightened the load just a little, and maybe the feeling of all of us lifting you up will help just a little bit more.
Kylas last blog post..Totally tubular
Thank you for sharing this. Thank you for being brave enough to di it.
I am terribly sorry there are people out there who choose the worst moments to open their mouths and unleash the ugliness.
You’re in my prayers.
Pares last blog post..Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?
One of my dearest friends lost her mother nearly 30 years ago when she was a mere little girl. Every year. And I mean EVERY year, my friend and her brother grieve. Part of remembering is never forgetting. And that holds true for both the good and the bad. I, for one, could never judge you for your grief. Only you know how deep it runs. I am amazed at your honesty.
i’m wordless (and you know THAT doesn’t happen very often! ;P)…
the world is a better place with you in it. hugs to you.
jesss last blog post..i never said i was good at math
I read the entire post in one sitting.
And then I cried.
I love you.
Sarahs last blog post..That’s What She Said–(Trip to Body Worlds 3)
@Renée aka Mekhismom
Thank you for your kindness. It helps that people are protective of me.
Anonymous may have been…gut-wrenchingly blunt but they aren’t incorrect. They read the information from my reply to Angela Whitney.
He WAS laying on his stomach. On my bed. And in his sleep he pulled a towel that I left on the edge of it over by his face (But not inside his mouth. He didn’t choke on it) and the combination of it made him run out of oxygen. What makes it SIDS and was the largest factor in his death is that what ever instinct that the brain has to alert him to that fact that there was no air didn’t kick in and he didn’t turn to get fresh air which he could have easily done.
So…as much as it sucks and I hate it more than I can say…they aren’t far off.
I contributed to the death of my baby and nothing will ever, ever change it. It will torment me forever.
Oh, my dear, sweet, girl.
I’ve had this open in my browser for hours because it took that long to get through it. I didn’t want to read your words, taste your pain, so palpable. But I did, in your honor, in Matthew’s honor, and everyone else should, too. If it always feels like yesterday? For the rest of your days? That’s OK. That’s OK. I hope it doesn’t, but it’s OK if it does. You have earned your grief and you should not have to make it fit into any kind of box.
I am incredibly, profoundly sorry for your loss.
maggie, dammits last blog post..HEADRUSH
Thank you so much for sharing! It is okay to be with your grief one year, five years, ten years, or fifty years after your loss. And it’s okay to tell others about it, too. I feel heartbroken for you after reading this. I am so sorry!
Heidis last blog post..A quick story
I am typing this through tears. I am so very sorry for all that you and your family endured.
Do not EVER feel the need to explain yourself and your grief to others. I find it extremely appalling that ANYONE would make such insensitive comments. I commend you for keeping your life going, as losing a child could easily have destroyed you.
Feel your pain….you have that right.
Hugs to you dear momma….hugs.
Mrs. Schmittys last blog post..Secret Santa Soiree
I’m so sorry for your loss, and that it is — and will remain — a painful memory. I hope the love of others will always shield you from sadness.
i am so so incredibly, deeply, bone-crushingly sorry, L. there are no words. sorry isn’t enough. i’m sending love and strength and peace to you, xoxo
sweetneys last blog post..linkblog: President Bush’s Legacy
You are amazing. I can’t stop my tears for you. I had to walk away from the computer for a while and come back to comment.
My first thought when I started reading this was, “I don’t know if I can get through this. It’s only been 5 years, the pain must still be so fresh.”
Mama Ginger Trees last blog post..Four Questions
i am so deeply sorry.
slouching moms last blog post..Beachcombing on the Outskirts of Nowhere
I love you.
That is all. XO
Mrs. Flingers last blog post..Lessons from the YMCA locker room
I’m sorry.
Sterkworkss last blog post..Where shall I emigrate?
I’m so sorry.
Don’t beat yourself up. The only way to deal with grief is to go through it. You’ve been dealing with it long enough to know that. Do what you’ve got to do to get through it. We’ll be here helping pull you towards the other side.
Mandees last blog post..I wasn’t the only one crying at the soccer game last week
I am so sorry for your loss.
Kim/hormone-colored dayss last blog post..Pat the Husband: A book review
I’m so very sorry that you had to go through this. Grief doesn’t just go away, and there is nothing wrong with it still hurting years from now. He was your little one and no one should suffer losing thier child for any reason or at any age. Write if it helps you get it out, do whatever you need to. Holding it in is far more dangerous. Hugs.
All I can do is add another “I’m sorry” to the mix. I haven’t cried this hard in a while.
Erins last blog post..A Dramedy in Two Acts
I hope that someday the pain gets easier.
No one with a heart really gets over the loss of a child. Your story had me racking with sobs. I’ll be hugging my son a little tighter today.
With tears streaming down my face, I just want to let you know that you are admired and loved in this blogosphere.
I too, have a Matthew. With that exact same bouncy seat. I will go home and hug him extra hard tonight.
May you find peace.
Trenches of Mommyhoods last blog post..Extreme Rudeness: Trenches Edition
My heart hurts for you. Hope you are able to grieve as you need to and come back to life soon. There are a lot of people out here who miss you. Myself included.
bejewells last blog post..I Don’t Care What Dick Says, “Flexitarian” is NOT a Real Word
You are a warrior and stronger than so many women can really fathom. I’m in awe of your strength.
Grieve and feel as much as you need. We’re here for you, good, bad, all of it.
She Likes Purples last blog post..What I Would Own if Money or Large Bellies Were No Object
Thank you for writing this.
The #1 reason I write is because reading the dark ugly truths of others helped me to come to terms with my own, and I now write about them in the hope that some day someone will read and feel a little less alone. This post is what you needed to write, and I know that it is also exactly what someone else out there needed to read.
I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.
Meghans last blog post..The flip side
LL,
Remember, you also contributed to the life of your baby, and he keeps on living in you.
His memory will never go away. Your love for him has been displayed for all the world to see. Your honesty, pain, courage and strength has done far more good than harm.
It is your story girl, you are the author, you get to feel anyway you want and no gets to tell you how to write your story.
For what it is worth, I read love when I read you, and love never dies.
Davies last blog post..To bail or not to bail – that is not the question.
i am so truly sorry, loralee. and i completely understand that this day represents your grief more overwhelmingly than any other.
your grief is yours and yours alone and, to my mind, should not be interfered with.
love and peace, Vx
Vanessas last blog post..self portrait challenge – contrast #4
I’m so sorry. I don’t care how long it has been, you have every right to grieve your baby as long as you need to. You can look for the silver lining another day, hell, another year. There is no bright side to the loss of a child, anyone who says there is needs to be smacked upside the head. Yes, good things can come after, but it is not a bright side.
I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m horribly sad and sorry that you have been so guilt stricken for so long. And I don’t care what ANYONE says, it was not your fault. You don’t know, no one really knows why it happens.
Thanks for sharing your story. I’m sorry for your nightmares.
Hugs to you. I’ve been thinking about you, and will continue to do so.
pgoodnesss last blog post..Monday Writing Prompt #1!
Peace be with you. You are loved.
jessicaAPISSs last blog post..This Sunday Work Out for a Great Cause
I’ve never faced such profound heartbreak. In some of my darker parenting moments I’ve had panic attacks that something similar has or would happen.
Thank you for writing this so that I might better understand what you specifically have lived through and, more generally, what losing a child must be like.
I send you love.
theclevermoms last blog post..Chocolate Mug Cakes
I will never even begin to try to understand why people think time is relevant to grief. As if, somehow, it’s supposed to hurt less with each year you stare at a date on a calendar where a loved one stopping breathing, stopped standing beside you. Anyone who has lost knows that isn’t the way it works.
When my dad died I was in denial for months. I didn’t get to see his body and so there was no closure for me, and sometimes the grief hits me like a wave from nowhere and I am huddled over on the floor deep inside myself. It’s been 13 years since he drowned, and each April I feel his absence stronger than ever.
All of that to say: I’m thinking of you, babe, and sending you love from here. I’m here if you ever need an ear, a hug, or just a really ridiculous felt mustache.
I’m reaching my arms ALL THE WAY two states over to hug you.
Thank you for sharing that with us.
Rhis last blog post..You know what annoys me?
I am so so sorry. Sorry is indescribably inadequate, but it’s all I have.
There is nothing I can say….., this I know.
I will say this, however. My hopes and thoughts are with you. And although you grieve, may you find peace…..no matter how long that takes……
Corinas last blog post..An interesting birthday gift
This is the most poignant, evocative thing I have ever read in my life. I hope that this was at least somewhat cathartic for you and will help at least a bit in your healing. I cannot pretend to imagine the enormity of your grief and loss. I hope that you find peace.
My heart goes out to you.
georgias last blog post..Stimulating Creative Juices (Eww)
My heart broke reading this. It is one thing to know I child died. It is another to learn HOW. And I can’t think of a worst nightmare for any parent….
Ambers last blog post..The End is Near for The Great Pumpkin
So sorry, that was just devastating.
But one of the good notes I got from this was that lovely funeral director. It’s been my experience that they are some of the nicest, most understanding people in the world and I am glad you had that experience as well.
I just wanted to say I’m sorry that you, that any mother anywhere should have to experience this, and to thank you for being brave and honest in writing about it. This phenomenon of falling apart on anniversaries of traumatic events, it’s normal. My foster children have all experienced it, and us with them. The best thing to do is take this date, set it aside every year, and let yourself grieve. It honors your loved one and honors yourself, and you have that right.
Alicias last blog post..First Day of School
I ache for you. I wish that that would help you somehow.
There’s no way I could fully understand how you feel – but I will say that (as you know) my 15 year old sister in law died in a car accident in June, and ever since then I am just … morbid? shattered? traumatized? I feel death everywhere. Maybe I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do. And I can’t bear the thought of how much more extreme it must be for you. Do we ever get over these things?
falwyns last blog post..doing the (personal) impossible
I can’t imagine that one EVER gets over losing a child. There shouldn’t be a time limit on that kind of grief.
Jen @ blissfully caffeinateds last blog post..You Say It’s Your Birthday, Well It’s My Birthday Too, Yeah
Oh honey. I am so fucking sorry.
kimblahgs last blog post..have lunch on me
My heart has been touched by what you wrote.
I’m so sorry for your pain and loss. I cannot imagine.
I think you should give yourself permission to grieve as much as you want or need to. No explanations are necessary.
Quirkyloons last blog post..Busted!
Anyone who tells you to look at the bright side, find the silver lining or make some damned lemonade needs to be shot.
I don’t want to go into some long, emotional comment that will do nothing to make you feel better but just know that you are in my thoughts and prayers.
Sheila (Charm School Reject)s last blog post..Silence Is Golden – Or Something Like That
Was it inappropriate to cuss in my comment? It just feels so horribly unfair and ugly and I’m not just sorry- I’m sorry for what your family went through in the most extreme definition of the word. I have never read your site before, I followed a twitter link. You wrote of this painful week very well and I’m sure even the words bringing us humble readers to tears don’t compare to how bad it was/is. There is no time limit on pain or mourning. I hope time brings more peace and glad your baby has such a wonderful, caring Mom.
kimblahgs last blog post..have lunch on me
Loralee, I am not an eloquent writer, and I wish I had something profound to say…..
I remember your dad @ my grandma’s house in July ‘03 talking about ‘bug.’ About how cute and funny he was and that he just loved his red hair. He wouldn’t stop, he was so proud of that baby. He also talked about what an incredible mom you are and what a great job you do with your boys. I don’t know why I remember this…but I do.
I love this post. I think it is important for people to understand what grief is. It is not on a time table, and especially not on someone elses time table. You take all the time you need when you need it, and who cares if it takes forever….
grief doesn’t end.
Also, I know that Angelina and Anonymous meant no harm, but come on guys….get your timing right, or just don’t post at all.
Loralee, this was NOT your fault, I don’t think it was even a little. As mothers (and fathers), we do what we have to do for our babies and children. You guys did nothing wrong.
I have looked up to you for as long as I’ve known you. After reading this I look up to you much more. You are an incredible, beautiful, strong and motivating woman! My thoughts and prayers are with you and your little family.
Karlyns last blog post..Innocent Crushes!
Oh, Loralee. Grieve if you need to, and we will grieve with you. That part about the man from the mortuary standing stock still till you *gave* Matthew to him undid me, and I am sitting here with tears streaming down my face.
I for one don’t expect that you should be “getting over it” by now. I don’t know if losing your child is something you can ever get over.
I cannot imagine the trauma, but you’ve described it so beautifully and heart-wrenchingly, I feel like I understand it a bit better. Thank you for that.
We love you, and we will grieve with you.
bethany actuallys last blog post..4/7 – the goat did not eat my shoes
Thank you for sharing this. I am sobbing right now thinking of all that you have been through. It just doesn’t seem fair. I have been reading your blog for a few years and never made a comment, but this post has driven me to delurk. You are an amazing person and I just don’t know what more to say. I truly admire your courage and hope the very best for you.
Allies last blog post..thinks I appreciate
I found this post through Sweetney’s Tweet. Nothing to add, just another virtual hug and wish for peace and healing for you and your family. I am terribly sorry for what you have been through.
We have friends whose baby died nearly 4 years ago, after a congenital heart defect and several surgeries. He was 10 months old. Your post helps me to remember that the pain is fresh and unspeakable no matter how long it’s been and things in their lives will never be the same.
God bless you all.
Megs last blog post..Do you need to see my social security card, too?
Oh Loralee… I don’t often tend to just cry when I read posts. But I’m crying now. You’re right. There is no good to find in what happened that day and I think even God would agree with that. What you went through was HORRIBLE. And anyone who thinks you should be “over it” five years later obviously either a) hasn’t ever lost a child or b) has repressed their own loss and thinks everyone else should too.
There is so much I’d like to say to you right now, to share with you. I’d love to be a shoulder for you to cry on. I’d love to share a box of Kleenex with you.
I cannot imagine most of what you went through. After the nurses took Jackson from us at the hospital, I didn’t see him again. I’m sure if I had asked, I could have but I didn’t ask and no one offered. And I too have often thought that we had it “easy”. We didn’t have those three months to fall utterly head over heels in love with Jackson (though I had had nine months to love him, I know it’s not the same). Then again, I’ve worried about the pain he may have felt as the cord that should have given him life instead choked it from his body. It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.
This is an extremely long winded way of saying, I feel you, girl. I’ve got your back. Anyone coming on here and posting ANYTHING other than sympathies and condolences and positive thoughts should be ashamed of themselves.
That is all.
Marilyns last blog post..And on a happier note…
This was my first time coming to your blog, through a link on Twitter, and now I’m sobbing away at this incredibly, incredibly moving post. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but I just had to say how much this touched me, and tapped into my primal fears as a mother. There are no words, and besides, you’ve probably heard them all before. I just thought you might like to know that there’s someone else out there now thinking about you, and hoping you find some ease in getting through this time of year.
Amies last blog post..THERE ARE SOME WAYS WE DON’T WANT TO BE EQUAL
Loralee,
My heart goes out to you. You have felt the pain that no mother should ever imagine. You have seen things that no parent should ever witness. My heart goes out to you as I sit here with tears running down my cheek. You are an amazingly brave woman to share so much with others.
Thanks to your brave post I will hug my boys extra long tonight. Please know that one is coming your way as well.
Remember, you have ever right to grieve and never let anyone tell you any differently.
TheAngelForevers last blog post..Always trust your instinct
Honey, I just took the time to read your comments and I’m happy to see how loved you are. (Not that I’m at all surprised!) However, that Angelina Whitney makes my blood boil. You’re a wonderful mother and have two boys who, I’m sure, will happily say the same. Things happen, and it’s OK to hurt as long as you need to, even if it is forever.
Fuck those idiots who say otherwise.
Sarahs last blog post..That’s What She Said–(Trip to Body Worlds 3)
Loralee, you are very much loved. You are in my prayers.
Sues last blog post..Duuuuuudes…Listen…
I do not know you. I’ve never read your blog before, but stumbled upon a link from Twitter. Your eloquence in the midst of such a horribly gut-wrenching experience was at once amazing and devastating.
Your grief, your trauma and your pain are so real and so achingly harsh. There is no shame in finding your own path through that grief. No shame and no excuses that need to be given to anybody. Nobody can heal that pain for you, but maybe all the good energy generated from these comments will come your way to ease the sharp edges of it.
The life you had stolen from you will ALWAYS be in your heart. Your little one, even though he only lived a little while, was vital to the process of your own life.
I so sincerely hope your heart and mind will heal and you will find peace. Please be good to yourself.
You don’t need anyone’s permission to grieve and mourn as long and as deep and as privately or publicly as you want and need to. There are no rules for how you ought to behave or what you ought to feel when something like this happens to you. You do whatever you damn well please and ignore anyone who tells you otherwise. Likely, they mean well, but are lucky enough to have never had anything so devastating happen to them and/or unlucky enough to have a real dearth of empathy.
I’m so sorry. Sending you healing thoughts. I wish nothing but the best for you and your family.
I hope your little one is smiling somewhere at all the people who are thinking of him with love.
Feather Nesters last blog post..Home Again, Home Again
Oh honey, I hate that you’re hurting, but I know that you just have to go through this process and you don’t need anyone telling you how. If I were there with you right now, I would just hold you.
I have no idea the pain that you are going through because I am not a mother. All I have to go on is the gut-wrenching pain that I went through when I lost my 5 month old nephew. There were many horrible details of his death that I can never talk about. But just one small one is that my mom was with me (1700 miles away from home) instead of with my sister when she lost her baby.
If you are going through anything like what I did, I’m hurting for you. I know your pain is real, and in some ways will not be minimized with time as some people think. It will just change, not lessen.
With that said, I love you. And I want you to know that I’m here for you no matter what. My heart is with you.
Rachel (Louisiana)s last blog post..Sigh…
I’ve been crying all through this post, but that picture of you seems to have cracked my heart.
I love you, babe. You’ll never be able to live your life unless you are allowed to fully feel this grief.
Thank you for sharing this with us. Maybe our feeling this with you will help to take away even just an ounce of the pain. Here’s to hoping pain is finite and dissipates a little when diluted.
Megan {Velveteen Mind}s last blog post..Hot Spot Hopping
Loralee – there are no words – I cannot imagine the depth of your grief and pain.
I will keep you and Matthew in my prayers.
Five Husbandss last blog post..Bubbe, we have to talk
I woke up at 5 am and I read your post and wanted to comment, but I was worried that I would be incoherent. It’s almost 12 hours later, and I re-read it, but I’m still low on coherence.
I wish that I could make it less painful for you.
I wanted to let you know that your words stayed with me all day and I suspect that they will stay with me forever.
You and your family are in my thoughts.
Marinkas last blog post..I Don’t Think It Would Work
thank you for sharing this. your writing is incredible and I felt like a fly on the wall when I read it. like I was right there. only I couldn’t reach out to hug you!
BeanHaydens last blog post..Coming out of the fog
I am all tears at my computer and dont know what to say. Thanks for sharing this.
I mourn for you too Loralee. I am thinking of you and your family. Camille and Toby are thinking of you too.
Love you all
Sending you a hug
Loralee,
it is because of your words, your example and your soul that today, 127 so far (that have stopped to comment) have read your post and are rallying behind you. SIDS is a horrible thing. And you my love, did not make your beautiful Bug ‘have’ SIDS. There is still so much that we don’t know about it. But, because of your bravery and your love for dear Matthew, 127 people might know a little bit more about it. I understand the guilt, believe me I do, but for one brief moment, take heart in the fact that in Matthew’s honour you wrote your heart wrenching post and people will take a moment to read, or write or ask questions. Today my love, there should be no guilt. Take pride in the way you have touched people today and the information you have shared.
You are so loved Loralee! And believe me when I say that all of this love and support is well deserved. You are an amazing woman.
4s last blog post..Out the end of a dying camel….
This is the first post I have ever read of yours and I am in awe of how you are dealing with all of this. I don’t know you don’t know anything else about you but I do know that grief is good and by allowing it in you are strong.
pickels last blog post..eebee Giveaway
I first signed up for Twitter while talking on the phone with Redneck Mommy. She mentioned a few people who she thought I’d want to follow and you were one of them. Admittedly, I’d never read your blog before, but I followed, because I figured if Redneck recommend you, I should check you out.
And since then I’ve been mostly lurking. It seems kind of strange to thank you for writing this post, but ultimately, it feels like the right thing to say.
Thank you.
Thank you so much for sharing.
{{HUGS}}
Words just don’t seem adequate right now.
Thank you for continuing to share your heart.
<3
from the bottom of my heart I am sorry.
Leas last blog post..there’s the rub
Loralee,
Thank you for writing this. I sobbed as I read your story, it made me think of my girlfriend who lost her four-month-old son to SIDS 2 years ago last month. Your post made me remember that she will always hurt for her boy, and I need to be even more gentle with her because of it.
I’m now the mother of a little boy, 15 months old tomorrow. You have reminded me to hug him and kiss him every chance I get, and to cherish every moment with him. Thank you for that.
Kates last blog post..Growing
You deserve time to have your grief. I am so, so sorry, Loralee. You have suffered through something that no mother ever should have to suffer through. My prayers go out to you today!!
Christis last blog post..Wordless Wednesday–Record Breaker
I…. I have no words for this. I just cannot express how sorry I am. You are a stronger woman than I think I will ever be. I don’t think I would have survived past that Tuesday. I am so sorry for your loss.
I feel like I have no words- just know I am thinking of you my pal. I am looking at the world bit differently right now. Take care now.Ok? xo
amys last blog post..Is that you baby or just a brilliant disguise
I don’t even know what to say. This was absolutely heart-wrenching to read. As a mother of a little boy with another one one the way, I can not even begin to imagine how you must be feeling. Even five years later, don’t let anyone put a time limit on how long you can grieve for your beautiful son. All I can say is that my heart goes out to you and your family.
Hugs.
do what you need to do. we’re here for you when you need us. love u, me.
zeghsys last blog post..ads
Loralee- Thank you for sharing this with us. There are no words and I know I have shared this with you…My best friend lost her son last October. She is still lost in her grief; in ways I can not understand. Sharing those feelings; you sharing with us…it helps. I hope it helps you:-) Hugs!
Amys last blog post..Time for Change
My thoughts are with you and your family Loralee. *hugs*
(((((HUGS)))))
Thank you for sharing.
I often dwell too much on the things that the kids are doing wrong, or that they should be doing for themselves, instead of realizing what a blessing it is to have them here at all.
Thank you for reminding me of what I have.
Thank you…
simply anonymoms last blog post..Thursday Thirteen
I’m not yet a mom, so I can’t know what it’s like to love my own child yet,little on to lose them, but I will think of you and I will try to live through this day when your world broke on the off chance that maybe there is only so much pain and it can be shared so you don’t have to carry as much.
Thinking of you and sending you love. xo
Leahpeahs last blog post..Politics
My heart hurts for you and your family, the excruciating loss you’ve suffered and whatever blame you lay on yourself. I cannot pretend to fathom your pain but I pray for peace and healing in your heart.
[...] Loralee, it's most definitely not too long. [...]
Thank you for sharing with us. My thoughts are with you and your family.
i just want to say that if i were in your situation, i would still be in bed, in the same clothes i last saw my son in, without having had a shower for five years. you cry all you need to, whenever you need to. because those people who tell you to look for a silver lining have never been through what you have and do not understand, and don’t have enough imagination to try .
I have a trauma, too. A different one, apples-and-oranges in nature, and irrelevant except to agree that there’s not always a silver lining. Not always a redeeming quality. Sometimes life is a huge steaming pile of unfairness and you simply get flattened by it all, and sometimes it comes back and reflattens you whether or not you’re ready.
Be gentle with you. Remember that nobody else gets to make up rules about your grief – you’ll grieve and heal however it is that you need to.
Kates last blog post..Nine Months
Thank you for sharing your story. I know it’s hard but please don’t blame yourself. Keeping you in my prayers.
Loralee~
My heart aches for you. Thank you for sharing. I’m so sorry.
I love you and I am always here for you. Me and the rest of the world, who all love you too. You are a very great lady – blessed with even greater sons who love you beyond the bonds of this life and who are so proud of you. My heart is breaking for you – again. I love you.
You people amaze me.
You have no idea what all these words mean. The kindness and the compassion.
I appreciate it more than I am capable of articulating. I have been crying all day long and it is not all due to sadness.
I wish I could hug all of you.
It is kindness like these words that have gotten me through. I have read every single word, email, comment and Twitter and know how deeply, DEEPLY I appreciate them.
I’ve never met you, but even imagining a piece of your pain has tears streaming down my face. My two year old son is asleep in the next room, and I am so, so lucky.
I wish that you didn’t feel like you had to apologize for your grief. I wish that people didn’t make those kinds of comments about how long it’s been or how you SHOULD feel. What you feel is natural.
It will most likely get easier over time, but your heart was broken, and part of it always will be. I don’t think that there is anything wrong with getting sad and thinking this way when the anniversary comes. Honestly, how could you NOT?
I don’t know you, but I have so much compassion and love for you right now. You’re not alone. And I hope that helps.
Rachaels last blog post..And I wondered how the economic downturn would hit us…
I just wanted to comment on how much the story you wrote has touched my heart. It won’t be easy to get by, by you will. Like someone else said, I won’t sugar coat things.
Back in 86 my family went through the loss of my brother (who oddly was the same exact age as Matthew.) He was my brother. Still to this day, I have trouble coping with it. I wish I could have taken the pain from him. Your story reminds me of just that. But you of course, are his mother.
My heart goes out to you and your family, and your little angel will be in my thoughts.
I can’t say anything that will make sense right now. I can’t tell you it hurts to just read it because is that being insensitive? Like of course it hurts! Just know that whereas I lack in eloquence right now, I am full sympathy for you.
I am so sorry for your loss. It doesn’t matter if it was 5 yes ago or 5 weeks ago. It was still the loss of your son. You are entitled to your grief. Why do people forget to put themself in others place? It’s called empathy for Pete sake!!
I felt your pain & sorrow in this post and though I have not experienced the loss of one of my own children, I could put myself in your shoes if only for the moment. And I am so sad for you.
You are truly brave for putting this out for everyone to see. May it be of help to others.
Take care
Mother Musingss last blog post..Wordless Wednesday – #39 – Best Friend
I just wanted you to know that I’m here, I’m thinking of you and I’m so terribly sorry that you had to suffer such a horrifying loss and that you have to live with that pain every day.
Ys last blog post..My First and Only Male Stripper Experience: Part One
Hon,
My heart breaks in a million pieces for you.
I hope you leave this up. You need to get it out. It’s okay for you to be angry and sad and distraught and every other emotion you have. Your beautiful son was taken from you and that is a tragedy.
You will never get over this. Your heart is too warm and kind and big to do so. And no mother could.
My hope and prayer for you is that you gain some peace as time goes on.
You are brave and amazing for sharing this.
And you are very loved–as Matthew was and is.
MammaLovess last blog post..I’m Breaking Up With My Orthopedist
I happened upon your blog posting because of a link that Sweetney posted on Twitter. I want you to know that people who feel like you shouldn’t be sad anymore because it’s been five years and people who think you should look on the bright side (WTF) are insane, and I cannot even begin to comprehend the kind of sadness and grief you must be experiencing. I found myself the other day absolutely crippled with grief when thinking about my father, who died eight years ago at the age of 65. And while losing my father was heartbreaking, and still is at times even though it happened eight years ago, that experience was NOTHING compared to the trauma of losing a child (and this is not to belittle the loss of a parent, especially not MY parent.) My point is, you will grieve this your whole life. And anyone who has a problem with that can f*** off. Sorry, don’t mean to swear, but that’s what’s coming to my head right now. My heart is with you and your family. I can’t think of anything else to say, certainly nothing that will help, but will think of you often.
If I have learned anything by working in a Medical Examiner’s office, it is that death can come in a variety of senseless ways. Especially to those who are so young and fragile. It is meaningless to hold yourself responsible. I have seen children whose parents were responsible for their death, and trust me you do NOT qualify. In fact, people like you give me hope that I hang on to when I have to face the results of callous and cruel parenting. I sense that you are a deserving and loving mother, who valued her child as children should be valued. Please do not let what if’s, make you question that. You are fully entitled to your grief. For that matter, you are entitled to it whenever and wherever it strikes, now or 50 years from now.
Please take care.
I read your post just after you put it up, but couldn’t type a comment by the time I made it through. The wrongness of it all overwhelms.
There is no “good time” to lose your child just as there is no comfort in the assurance of a “better place.”
The best place for your child is alive, with you.
You have bared the raw, ugly, reality of your loss. It feels wrong to say thank you, but also right in letting you know I appreciate what you have done in sharing your story, even though I know you did not do it for our benefit (nor should you have). So, thank you for sharing your grief with us.
It is an honor that our words can bring you some small piece of comfort–some love, a little light.
califmoms last blog post..Back to Not Sleeping.
I’d like to kick the people in the teeth who have the nerve to try to tell you how to grieve. They have no clue.
I am so sorry for your loss.
dysfunctional moms last blog post..10 Things I Believe In
I cannot imagine your pain; I am so sorry for your loss. But if it helps at all, I understand exactly what you mean about people who think you should be “over it” by now, or that it shouldn’t be so fresh, or that you’re doing something wrong for it to still be this painful. My mother died suddenly more than 8 years ago, but you wouldn’t know it to talk to me about her, and especially not in mid-April. Just know that there is at least one person out there for whom grief is ongoing and sporadic and at times, unbearable.
WaltzInExiles last blog post..Decoding
Can barely see the monitor for the tears. Please don’t ever get “good at being quiet.” Be loud in your happiness and in your grief–we want to hear you.
I wish I could give you a big hug. I think I’d have to stand in line for a long while :)
I’m so glad you shared all of this–what I believe is the tippy-top of the ice berg. Some things you’ll never be able to put into words, and rightly so. But what you have put into words is unbelievable. I know you’ve heard this about a million times, but I cannot imagine even a snippet of your loss. I honestly hope I never do. I know you’re not feeling it at this time…but boy, are you a strong woman. Inspirationally strong. For real.
Thinking of you and yours…bunches.
xoxoxo
The Over-Thinkers last blog post..Another one for the "Holy Crap I was a HUGE DORK"-Pile
Im not sure what to say. I never really am in situations like these. My friend lost her daughter one week shy of her 1st birthday, it was a horrible accident. That was two years ago. No one who knew that little girl will ever be the same…
Again, i don’t know what else to say. Im so so sorry for your loss. Please don’t let people get to you. No one should tell you how or when to grieve.
..sending many HUGS your way..
Five years is a nano-second ago, and a lifetime ago. Grief doesn’t know a time limit.
I lost my dad when I was 18 (I’m 45), and I remember wondering if or when the pain would finally go away – and when would I be able to bear it. The answer was never – BUT – eventually – gruadually – slowly – I have found that while I still can’t “bear” it, I can hold his memory, savor the knowing of him, and smile even when tears softly roll down my cheeks. Each year that passes, it seems as if his memory becomes easier for me to touch – and the raw, gut wrenching grief that used to come with it eventually fades.
I understand that a part of you probably doesn’t want the pain of this grief to go away – just know that it will ease.
I am very sorry for your loss, and wish you the ability to find a little joy each day with your family.
I love you honey
{hugs}
prayers.
xoxo
Mrs. Fussypantss last blog post..Southern Football & Lunatic Mommies
My thoughts are with you and your family during this painful time of year. You deal with it the way you need to and please don’t let ignorant folk try to make you feel bad for it. Just be sure to tell them that you hope they never have to feel and go through something so awful.
I’m sorry you feel so much guilt. I know most would if in your shoes, but it wasn’t your fault. We are human and we all do things that later we say “I shouldn’t have done that…” Sometimes over something silly or something extremely serious. And it is easy to take the blame and feel the guilt. I’m sorry you feel it, but know no one else blames you, so why should you? It was a horrible thing that happened, but please remember we don’t always have to point the finger. We like to, but we don’t have to.
Hugs and grieve away. Thanks for sharing this and describing it all so real and raw.
Oh Loralee, I do not know what to say. I know nothing that I say will make it easier or take the hurt away. I cannot even begin to imagine how difficult this must have been and continues to be. You have every right to grieve, and you should not feel guilty. You loved your son and continue to love him to this day. You are a wonderful mother and a strong, beautiful person. I send hugs and love to both you and your family.
Julies last blog post..Just Us
Oh, sweetie, sweetie. My heart breaks for you.
As horrible as it is, I knew there would be some evil comments. Because some people don’t understand that horrible things happen in life, and they think if they figure out all the angles, they can be smug and push them all away and never have to deal with something so painful. I have a word of caution for them: life is full of random, terrible things, and one of them may well be headed your way. And when it happens, you will only hope that you aren’t judged with the kind of judgment you have dished out, but that people are mature enough to treat you with kind compassion.
I want to say something more than “I’m sorry,” but I don’t think anything I could write could describe how much my heart hurts for you right now.
I’m so, so sorry.
You’re in my thoughts and prayers.
Alicias last blog post..Home
You are amazingly brave. My heart shattered reading this poignant post. My prayers and thoughts are with you and your family. I am profoundly sorry for your loss. Hugs.
MB
My heart is aching for you and your family. Thank you for sharing your grief and your love for that precious little boy. I am from a rural area that recently lost 5 little girls in a horrible accident. Thank you for helping me glimpse part of what those parents must be going through. And thank you for making me want to hug my half grown children close to me. Your heart and soul are beautiful.
Oh darling.
Oh my.
Tears are streaming, you’ve told me, you’ve alluded and yet this. This shattered a piece of my heart, more than one.
For you. For Matthew, For your family.
There is no time limit.
Grieve, remember, love and mourn in your own way, in your own time. It never goes away, it only changes.
Oh Loralee, so many hugs and prayers.
so much.
rachels last blog post..Family, Enchiladas and Hernias: Photo Story Friday
Please leave the post up.
jasonthes last blog post.."I’ll Try to Find You Some"
Thank you for telling your story. You are a strong and loving person. Your abiding love for Matthew radiates from your words. I hope you leave this post up. Your Matthew is a beautiful soul.
My husband died 5 years ago and as I approach the anniversary date, I have been having flashbacks and remembering what happened. I will never forget hearing my husband’s final agonal breathing. And when he died, I knew the body in front of me was not him. He was gone. Not there. Trauma is the perfect word.
Every person’s grief is different, just as every loss and relationship is different. For me, grief is something I have learned to live with, accommodate, some days better than others, but I know grief does not have end date. Those who think you should be over the loss by now are clueless asses. People are limited. Our culture does not know how to deal with death and grief. Thank God for the unexpected loving kindness of strangers like your funeral director, like a couple of the hospital staff in the ICU with me. I read through these comments, and it is clear that many people are lifting you up, sending you comfort, and many are grieving for you and for our own losses. Be gentle with yourself today, next week and every September. I wish you strength and peace.
Lyn (widow and mother by adoption)
I’ll admit it took me two trys to read this entire post. And in the middle of it I had to go get Zack from his crib just to hold him. I can’t imagine the pain that you went through on that night or the pain that you are going through right now. And you have every right to mourn 5 years later. It’s a pain that will never go away.
I want to hug you right now! I know you have a lot of people around you that love you and support you.
just mes last blog post..Follow the leader
[...] I’m going to blame a combination of hormones, too little sleep, reading and thinking about this post of Loralee’s, and Troy being gone. Not to mention that Annalie was being rather challenging today, growling at [...]
I am deeply sorry for your loss. To lose a child is the greatest nightmare of any parent.
No matter how hard we might try to be perfect, none of us are. Any parent who is honest will admit that there have been moments when something was done (or not done) that could easily have led to tragedy. We can only thank God if we have escaped unscathed and pray that we continue to do so.
I just want to hug you. Also, I think you are so incredibly brave. My guy aches for you right this minute, L. I wish there was anything I could do.
xo
Thank you for sharing. I don’t envy your pain but do envy your ability to express your feelings in such a way. I hope it has helped you (if only in a little way) It has had a profound effect on me, I only came across this by chance but I feel privileged to have been allowed to share
Suebob said:
“…some people don’t understand that horrible things happen in life, and they think if they figure out all the angles, they can be smug and push them all away and never have to deal with something so painful.”
Suebob, thank you for stating so eloquently what I couldn’t through my anger towards the callous people that cavalierly reduced my beautiful nephew and sister into nothing more than a public service announcement.
Thanks also to everyone else that responded with such kind words. You are, truly, humanity at it’s finest.
I can’t even try to say anything because it’s all inadequate and insufficient. I couldn’t comment yesterday at all. I think this though: Don’t you ever apologize for the intensity of your grief. Don’t do that Loralee. You own this thing that the rest of us fear more than anything else life could dish out. You own us no explanation. You and your Matthew are in my prayers.
Amy @ Milk Breath & Margaritass last blog post..Wordless Wednesday – The Commute
Loralee,
You are the strongest, most amazing woman I have ever known. I consider it my highest honor to call you my sister.
Thank you for this – I can’t imagine how difficult it was to write, but I really appreciate your sharing it all with us. As I’ve said to friends before – there’s no egg timer for grief, where you get a set amount of time, then you’re done. Grief is always with us in some form, and each and every instance of it is different. I hope you have a lot of people around you who let you know this when you need it.
Bless you Matthew…{bug}
Oh, honey. I am thinking about you and crying for you. know i am sending hugs and prayers your way.
rebeccas last blog post..Do your good deed for the day.
Smooches and hugs from MN!
Gretchens last blog post..Friday already?
[...] Trauma (This one his heartbreaking I warn you.) [...]
Something shoved a blazing hot hand into your chest and ripped out a huge chunk of your heart while plunging icy cold fingers into your brain…how could anyone expect you to now be peeing out sunshine and pooping out rainbows?
Who knows if it’s fair or not? It certainly sucks in more ways than the average person can count. What is surely unfair is anyone who wants you to be all right only 5 years later. That’s for their comfort, not yours. You’ll get where you need to be on your own time table, and not before, and until then those who want to wish away your grief can just suck it.
Thumpers last blog post..
Crying for you, praying for you, and sending hugs your way.
No one needs to tell you anything more. Grieve in your own time, screw the schedule. A friend of mine who lost a child always says “It was years ago and it was minutes ago.”
So hugs for the years and the minutes.
Grieve. Five days, five years, five decades, five lifetimes. Only YOU know what process works for you. And only YOU will know when the moment comes that you think that maybe the pain is just a teensy bit duller than it was, that you can cope better with the world around you if only for a few minutes more than you could before. It’s your right to fall apart, to be shattered, to feel lost and broken and shredded.
Shawnas last blog post..It’s all fun and games . . .
I love you. I don’t know what more I can say except that with that love, I hope you will find peace too.
Heather, Queen of Shake Shakes last blog post..When the labels don’t fit, they REALLY don’t fit
just hugs.
JoeInVegass last blog post..E Friday
i know you’ve already heard it, but i’m so, so sorry. this had me silently crying at my desk for you.
i can’t believe people would think that you’re supposed to be “over” this in 5 years. i don’t know how they expect anyone to be over this, ever.
hugs, from the internet.
Alices last blog post..friday five
Oh, Loralee…
I ached unbearably just READING this; I’ve got mascara all over my cheeks.
Several times I just wanted to turn away from the computer and try to distract myself so that I would stop sobbing…but I felt like that would have just been wrong. You have lived this nightmare…the least I can do is honor you and Matthew and your entire family by hearing your grief.
I will sit here a while, sobbing for your loss. Hugs to you, my friend.
Christines last blog post..Location, location, location!
I am so sorry for your loss.
Jenn @ Juggling Lifes last blog post..Life Lessons
I’m sorry the comment took so long to come. I read this the second you posted it, and I’ve been mulling ever since.
The short of what I want to say is that I love you, not in the superficial way, not in the “I’m going to say it in the comments” way, like the real, I wish I could be calling you on the phone and holding your hand way.
I hope you don’t pull this down. Someone is really going to benifit from it, and I admire the strength it takes to write it.
You are an amazing woman, and I am so here whenever you need me. I’ll totally give you my digits and everything.
Mr Ladys last blog post..More
I hope that you can know somewhere inside you that we who are reading this, we care. We don’t see it as a favor, reading your pain. We see it as a sisterhood of shared pain. We reach out to you with a single arm. We love you, though we’ve never met.
Emilys last blog post..Encouragement
It is absolutely ok for you to grieve off an on for the rest of your life. Never feel guilty about that.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
I ache for you.
You amaze me, and I love you for it. I wish I could sit with you and hold you while you cried the deep, ugly cry.
xoxoxoxo
carmens last blog post..Now Seen Elsewhere
I’m a stranger, but tears are streaming down my face and my two year old is asking me if I’m okay. And suddenly I’m not, because I can just feel your grief. My vivid imagination kicks into gear and I can imagine some teeny tiny portion of what that would feel like.
Thank you for putting this into words and sharing it. We don’t know how long these beautiful children of ours are entrusted to us, and there is so much more I can do to teach, love, and cherish my children.
My aunt lost her little boy when he was nine months old and she found some comfort in knowing that though she herself didn’t believe in heaven, that my parents and I do. We believe that families are eternal. We believe that you’ll hold your son in your arms again. I don’t know if that means anything, but I felt suddenly I ought to share that.
Kimberlys last blog post..One Step at a Time
My mother-in-law lost her only daughter to SIDS at six months. We visited her graveside a couple of years ago – a full 15 years after her death – and she cried like it was yesterday. I can’t imagine how anyone could possibly expect otherwise. How can such a loss be minimized by even the most insensitive dolt?
You don’t have to be your silly self all the time. I like this side of you… so raw, so honest. I love that you’re willing to be vulnerable.
Thanks for posting more than a picture of him. Just, thanks for posting.
Debbies last blog post..The Bread Swipe
Loralee..honey…
::no words:::
Thank you for sharing your grief, they say sorrow shared is sorrow halved. I have no idea if that is true, but it sounds good.
Take gentle care. many hugs and prayers are sent your way.
T.
T@SendChocolates last blog post..Why Do They Call it Homeschooling When I am NEVER at Home?
I came over from Maggie,dammit’s.
Oh honey, I think you’re handling what is every mother’s worst nightmare pretty damn well. I have lost children, but never like this, and I know the grief never really leaves you. Someone who would ask “are you through yet” is an ass who knows nothing of a mother’s love for her children – it’s forever.
I hope writing about this helped you, even if only a little bit.
God bless you for hanging in there. Keep on keeping on.
suburbancorrespondents last blog post..Mortality Beckons…
My youngest brother died in an accident almost 30 years ago. It took my mother 10 YEARS to be able to clean out his bedroom. She STILL writes cards to him on every holiday and on his birthday. Before we can have dinner on any holiday, she has to go to the cemetery and make sure his grave is decorated, so he will know she has not forgotten him. He was 21 when he died. It did not make it any easier for her to lose him.
So, although I have not lost one of my children, I have seen what the loss of child can do to a person by watching my mother all these years. If your grief takes you to this place, even 30 years from now, whose business is it to tell you not to do so, that it is not normal? Every person’s grief if normal. Anyone who thinks otherwise has not experienced it.
Karens last blog post..Gluten Free Donuts
I read this from my phone the other day but I couldn’t form a comprehensive comment on a keypad.. I’m not sure I can right now. I do know that there is nothing I can say more appropriate than I’m sorry and I love you. Every single person reading this who is a mother has made mistakes in parenting that could have lead to an accident – none of us are perfect.. the rules for what is safe vs. dangerous changes so fast it’s hard to keep up and we do the very best we can, but you ARE a good mother who loves your children. You can grieve as long as you need to, in any way you need to – we just want you to somehow get through this.. and if that never completely happens (I have family members who have lost children and everyone is different) then that is who you are.. We are all flawed human beings and I wish I could stop rambling, give you a real hug and kick anyone who makes you feel bad in the teeth. Nobody expects anything out of you – obviously you have lots and lots of support. I’m here too. xoxo
I’m so, so sorry!
No one has the right to tell you how to grieve, or for how long, or any of it.
All we can do is hold you in our hearts and thoughts, and send you love.
I am so sorry. I read every word just wishing it could have all been different for you. I can imagine nothing worse than losing a baby. You do what you need to to get through it. Take only the comfort and ignore the criticism. No one knows what you need but you.
merlotmoms last blog post..The Great Schlep: Be A Part of History!
This is most definitely every mother’s worst nightmare and the fact that you don’t ever get to wake up from it, makes my heart break. I can’t imagine the pain. I can only say, “there but by the grace of God, go I” and pray that I never do. Hopefully, day to day businees distracts you from it at times at least enough to allow you to continue to go on- but no one else can ever know your heart and judge how much, or how long or intense your grieving should be.
Margies last blog post..The Ghost of Sophronia Hodgett
Oh my gosh, I hurt for you.
We lost our adopted son, Seth, when he was a year old to his biological grandparents. It was devastating beyond what I’ll ever be able to verbalize. Still to this day, five years later, I am perodically hit with such a feeling of loss, it feels like I am suffocating. All it takes is a song, a smell, a memory, and I’m wrecked.
Well-intentioned people have made comments such as: “At least you only had him for a year.” “At least he didn’t die.” “When you’re feeling better, you can adopt again.”
The loss of a child is horrible. The worst. You never “recover” from it. You can only hope to endure it with time and with the help of loved ones, holding you close.
That picture of you holding him took my breath away. My heart breaks for you.
Kristys last blog post..Contrary To What Hubs Seems To Think, The Dizziness And Nausea Are Not Due To A Bun In The Oven
Having experienced the recent unexpected loss of my Dad… being in the room, making that same decision to stop, seeing a lot of the same sights that will never leave me, going to the funeral home, blaming myself… I share some of what you are going through.
I can’t imagine how much more difficult it must be to have it be your child.
There aren’t words to say to make it right, but know you are in my thoughts.
You seem like you are a strong person. Many people couldn’t have done half of what you did. I admire your honesty in your writing. And you have touched me in a deep way as I can tell by the comments you have touched many others.
lorimos last blog post..still doing too much
Loralee- I wish I could give you a big hug right now. You’re an amazing person, and I just have to say that I’d be more concerned if you said you WERE “over it.” Grief is an important process. Obviously that doesn’t mean it’s fun or easy, but it’s important all the same. Nobody has the right to say what is right or wrong in that process. Love ya.
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I am so very sorry. You have touched so many people. You are incredible.
OHmommys last blog post..Solving the world’s problems one toddler at a time
I am so sorry about your precious Matthew. I too lost a son, he was 20 years old, he died by suicide. The means don’t really matter, the sudden loss, here one moment gone the next. I grieve for your special loss. Thanks so much for sharing your story – you don’t know how much it helps to read and understand your pain, and that we who have lost the most precious, understand so well. I wish you peace and love.
Wendy
just crying.
Thank you for being so honest. For saying that it sucks. For helping us to understand. I so wish I had magic words.
Matthew is beautiful, Loralee. So beautiful.
Danielles last blog post..And Then I Cried
I can relate with a lot of your feelings. Our stories aren’t the same but have similarities. I lost a baby. It still haunts me, always will. Its been a long time and still makes me cry. I feel for you. I hope that you know you aren’t alone in your heartache and dispair. Best Wishes!
I love you. It’s small, it’s simple, but it’s all I have to give.
No good words, only… wishing you much kindness in your grief.
Maries last blog post..The Simple Woman’s Daybook 092508
Just wanted you to know that I thought of you all weekend.
Loralee,
I stumbles upon your blog and began reading out of curiosity. I;m not sure what to say to you. I feel that since I’ve never lost a child I have no right to tell you it will eventually be okay but you can’t blame yourself. My Addie sleeps on her tummy…she refuses to sleep any other way. You’re not the only mother that has put her child face down to sleep; they’re going to sleep however they’re most comfortable. You loved Matthew and that’s apparent so there is no way that you can blame yourself. One mistake doesn’t make you a horrible mom. You loved that little boy. I know you will never recover fully but continue to live your life for your other boys and honor Matthew’s memory.
I stumbled upon your page while searching for the word death.
I read your whole story.
Just want to say that i am sorry for your loss.
I did cry.
This broke my heart, although in no way as deeply as writing it must have broken yours. I never know what to say to people who have suffered such an incalculable loss. Especially because it’s so hard not to place my own babies in that scene and then fall apart at the mere thought of this happening to them. I just wanted to say that I am thinking of you and hurting with you and know that this will always sit in the deepest parts of your heart. A thousand blessings.
Elaines last blog post..I love the rain.
There is nothing to say that will make this better, there is nothing to do that will make it better and there are no casseroles that will bring back your baby but in the blogosphere we lack physical presence, so the only way we can make ourselves known is to comment.
I am commenting.
As a mother, and a blogger, I am commenting.
brits last blog post..Weekend Rundown with a song
Can’t seem to find the right words – must have hit the backspace button about a thousand times – just, I’m very sorry for your pain and hope you accept my sincerest apologies for not coming up with anything better to say than, “I’m sorry.” Going to hug my kids, now.
Lizs last blog post..Six Easy Steps to Surviving Back-to-School Night
oh dear, I am crying for you.
Loralee,
I don’t have the right words, but wanted you to know that when my Granny had her car accident I was the one in the room with her body as those machines did what they do. The only part of her I could recognize were her fingertips. Her body jerked so violently on the bed from that machine. Trauma. Yes. I have been there too and it is a dark place.
Much love,
J
Oh, The Joyss last blog post..Our Hero
As a mom who has lost a child, only he was 17 yr old and he was murdered, how much I realize that we have some things in common. It doesn’t matter how old they are, we just shouldn’t bury them first! As I read this I could so relate to everything that you said. I am so sorry that you didn’t get the 16.5 yr longer with your Matthew like I did with our Kevin! Kevin was taken from us 9.5 yrs ago, and some days, like this past birthday in Sept., I was taken back by the grief that captured my heart that day. His anniversary is around Memorial Day, so that is sometimes a bitter sweet weekend for us, at least Sat. when he was killed. I am so glad that you shared your feelings and experiences, it is a great teaching tool for those who have no comprehension of what your family and ours has experienced. Thank you for your honesty.
I don’t know what to say except thank you for sharing this post. It was so moving, and I think you should grieve as long as you want, however you want, for your loss. I cannot imagine it and admire your strength. All my best.
annas last blog post..100 Books: I (Smugly) Weigh in on a List of “Must Reads,” and Then, As Usual, Pass Judgment On People In General
I’m so sorry and I know there’s not much more I can write to ease your pain…but just know lots of people love you. No mother should have to go through what you have gone through.
Hi, Loralee.
I’ve been reading your blog for a while now, and I might have commented before…
I just want you to know that I am almost literally sobbing my eyes out right now. While I haven’t had to suffer the loss of a child, my family has had their fair share of trauma, and I know all about that shock that you spoke of. And when you come out of it… It’s a terrible feeling; something I don’t think I will ever be able to shake – and like I said, I haven’t lost a child.
I know it might not sound like much coming from someone who hasn’t been there or who doesn’t actually know you, but I am grieving with you. And, if it’s any help, I find it perfectly acceptable for you to still grieve this time of year. I don’t think I would be able to do any differently.
I hope you feel better soon.
Oh Loralee, I am so sorry, for all the pain of that day and all that has followed (including some of the comments here). None of us, if we’re lucky enough to live to old age, will pass through this life without doing something which will give us regret truly forever and those of who haven’t had to pay in a life & death sense should be very grateful. Thank you for sharing your Matthew, and your experience, with us, I hope it was meaningful for you. As for the idea that you should be grateful because you didn’t have to see him suffer, well, there are levels of hellish experience but they are all hell on earth. My family went through the experience of sudden death last year, and not ever having a chance to say goodbye is a unique pain in itself.
I’m not much for praying, but a friend taught me this prayer when another friend was facing a life or death situation with a baby, and I’ve since prayed for the original friend when her baby died and my sister when her babies were still-born. “I hold you up to the light, the healing light.”
I m thinking of you and cannot even imagine to know about your pain. I am losing my husband a little bit every day and it is painful but I cannot imagine the loss of one of my girls. Sending you warm thoughts and giving you a big cyber hug.
Kims last blog post..Let’s Talk About Sex Baby!
Loralee, I’m so sorry… Hugs.
sevens last blog post..Starbucks Giveaway…
I’m so so sorry. Have your grief. I don’t think anyone’s going anywhere.
A.C.s last blog post..Your shining face
Oh, Loralee. He was so beautiful. You can cry on my shoulder for eternity.
Missives From Suburbias last blog post..I Cannot Tell a Lie
I’m so sorry.
xoxo, Amy
Just wanted you to know I turned the phone off, sat down, and read your post. And I cried. I sobbed. I’ll listen any time you need to talk.
XXOO
love you.
Little Misss last blog post..Downward Spiral
Loralee, you are so strong and brave for making it through the past 5 years and seeing the day that you CAN write this post. You have shared the deepest part of your heart to many, many people and we are here to hold you in a giant virtual hug. I wish you peaceful sleep and happy memories.
Katie Gs last blog post..Ktgreen: Interesting article just now from WashTimes.com about Pelosi given her recent face-time on the economic issue: http://tinyurl.com/4amv6g
Oh, this breaks me for you. I am so sorry. And please, please forgive yourself. (re: what you wrote in the comments.) For all of us mothers that hold hands with you in your pain and stand by you in witness to the unbearable nature of loss – you are not at fault and you are beautiful. You are a mother. And you are so worthy of being forgiven and knowing that you are wonderful at what you do and who you are. xoxo Thank you for giving us this beautiful, intimate look into your stunning heart.
Your emotion and strength has left me speechless. My sincerest sympathy and hugs to you.
Michelles last blog post..Comment on Shop For a Cause by Momisodes
Don’t hold yourself to time frames set by others. No one can tell you when you should “be okay”. Let yourself grieve Loralee. Ignore the people who ask “HOW long has it been?”
Wish there was something I could say or someone could do to make it easier.
Hugs
tashs last blog post..Quietly Listening
Often times when my son was in the hospital I wished I could have magically transformed myself into him to bear his pain, and I found myself wishing I could do the same for you when I read your post.
Pain sits there sometimes and sneaks up on us when we least expect it, painful moments don’t just go away they stay a part of us always.
My heart and my soul reaches out to you………..you are handling your grief as you should….your own way…. on your own time frame. People cannot, and should not judge someone’s grieving process.
You are doing a great job!!
Lisas last blog post..Patchwork Pieces
oh, loralee, hugs and love and warmth to you.
please continue to share… your heart is beautiful and you are loved. thank you for sharing matthew with us. thank you for being vulnerable and open.
not a lot of words i can offer, but a lot of prayers and hugs.
xo
kim in seattle
My heart breaks for you. I’m in awe of the strength it must have taken to write this. This post brought me to tears for your loss and admiration for your courage. I lost my younger brother when he was 21, that was 4 years ago. Now that I’m a mother, I mourn even more for my parents’ loss. I hope you find some comfort in knowing that you’ve helped those of us who are grieving in our own ways.
Let yourself grieve, L. Sometimes people who have never lost a loved one don’t understand that the grief doesn’t just magically end after a few months. Or a year. Or two or three or 10 or 20.
You’re in my thoughts.
((hugs))
mommypies last blog post..Rockin’ the Bubbe Vote
Oh.
My heart is aching for you.
As a mum, who watched her baby die and who knows she played a large role in her own son’s death, I have no words of wisdom, nothing to try to make things better.
It’s been four and a half years for me.
I think, the guilt and the blame never goes away. I think it dulls, yes but grief lasts forever in one way or another.
Writing it down, going through it all is so hard and I admire you so much.
I am babbling because I can’t find the right words, nothing seems right…
All I have is hugs right now.
Little Matthew is beautiful.
Tiffs last blog post..“That would make me happy”.
I just want to give you a hug. I just felt like I had to say something and I honestly have no words and I know nothing can make you “feel better” and I don’t know anything about what you have experienced… so the only thing I can offer is virtual hug. (((HUG)))
Of course, you knew I would read it, regardless.
I did not read the comments, but I’m sure others already said it: it’s ridiculous to paint on a smile when it’s not how you feel. Acknowledging your grief seems like the biggest step in being emotionally healthy.
I haven’t been where you are, and even if you described it down to the minute detail with words, I don’t think I could ever really understand. But I sure can imagine the level of torture.
I am so very happy for the post that follows this one. You deserve that happiness and joy!
<3
Sarcastic Moms last blog post..What green bean?
My husband read your blog and was so touched by it, suggested I read it as well. I didn’t get around to it immediately and he has mentioned to me daily I need to read this. He was so touched, he was so hurt for you, he had so much feeling for you based off a blog (something he is not prone to do if he truly knows the person much less has no clue who the person is), that I decided it was time to read.
As I read your blog, tears wanted to stain my face and I fought them. I thanked my Father in Heaven for the blessings and trials I have had. I have had 2 miscarriages and the heart ache that is associated with those never completely leaves…it dulls most of the time but there are quiet moments when those emotions wash over your body and you are racked with pain. I can’t imagine your pain, ten times, no a thousand million times more than mine.
I do not think a mother ever gets over having to bury her child. Whether her child is 50, 26 or 3 months. A mother should be buried with her children by her casket not a child buried with the mother by the casket. My grandmother lost a baby and to her dying day never was “over it”. Over time it lessened but it never completely left.
For someone to question why you haven’t moved on is someone that hasn’t lost someone they truly love. You always find a moment in which you miss them. I think for them to understand they would have to be in your shoes, something that you would never wish upon anyone.
I want to say, “Do NOT blame yourself, please! You were trying to be the best mom you could be. You were being human, a good human, trying to help everyone.”
Although I want to say that, I know it is not something that will help nor have a point. I think it is part of being a mom, always blaming yourself for something that has happened to your child that was bad…it has to be your fault. It isn’t, but as a mother what should and shouldn’t be don’t matter.
The only thing that does matter is what you are feeling, that is important. It shows you truly loved your blessed son and he was blessed to have you as a mom!
I hope and pray that as time moves on, the pain will lessen but I know that pain shows the love you hold for that sweet angel! The pain may never lessen but neither will the love you hold for him!
By the way, congrats on the new pregnancy. I will pray and think of you often (and read up on your blog).
Yeah, we suck at dealing with death in these Western cultures. We don’t know what to say, so we either spout platitudes that are more damaging than helpful, or say nothing and leave the grieving in isolation. And this idea that you should be “over it” is beyond ridiculous (and more about other people’s discomfort than anything else). Loss is absolute, and grief is not a trajectory. This post is so beautiful and heartbreaking and actually very important, because it has so much raw truth about this. Thank you for trusting your readers with it.
How you’re even able to write about this is beyond anything I could do. God bless you and hold you till you see your baby again. How you’ve been able to go on is something I cannot imagine. It makes me think of a poem I read, from an anthology compiled by women who had lost their infants, I’ll try to send you the whole thing, but the part I remember fiercely is, “I watched them bury you, while my breasts dripped with milk meant for you.” Oh, you poor thing, the strength you have to live for your boys. You are incredible.
I am so touched at the outpouring of grief you have shared with us. This is my first visit to your blog and won’t be the last. God bless you and bring you peace.
marthas last blog post..TGIF, Cool weather and Halloween is coming
I am so very sorry for you loss.
Thank you for this post. I hope that doesn’t seem weird to thank you for it. It’s just that I get it … in a way. I didn’t lose a child I bore but I’ve had other things happen and no one seems to get it so there is no one to talk to or cry to. Things you’ve written here made me feel as though you were speaking FOR me.
I know it’s about you and your trauma but still….
you helped me okay ?
Whomever thinks they can tell a grieving mother that it’s been “long enough” needs to be slapped. It will NEVER be long enough to heal the pain of losing your baby. I’m praying for you and giving you a [HUG]. Thank you for sharing. I’m going to go kiss my kids.
So sorry..I’ve been/still am EXACTLY where you are now..Losing my daughter, being pregnant again. Knowing the excitement/terror of having another baby. Know this:
Everything will be ok. All is right now. Blessings to you.
Robin @ Party of Fives last blog post..Splat Goes The Frog
I just stumbled upon this beautiful post. I knew you lost a son, but didn’t know the story.
I have been in tears for you for the last half hour and am now turning off the computer to spend time with my children. Because, like your bathroom shower, what I am working on here is meaningless. I needed to be reminded to hug my kids a little tighter and not get wrapped up in the everyday crap. But I am so, so, so sorry that I needed that lesson from Matthew.
I don’t pray, but you will be in my thoughts. Life just plain sucks sometimes.
Scary Mommys last blog post..It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Wow… I want to thank you for this post. It was different than any other post on losing a baby that I’ve ever read.
I ended up with tears streaming down my face and dropping into my coffee when I read about the way the funeral director’s treated you and Matthew. It was… wonderful. I had never read nor heard about how they did *not* reach or take the baby, and the pillow top that he lay on while he was with them.
All very, very wonderful – a blessing. I never knew.
Thank You so much for sharing this post. It’s one that will stick with me forever.
meritts last blog post..The Sick Bug is Still Around… But this isn’t todays ‘real’ post….
Tears streaming down my face. I am so so sorry for your loss. I am going to hug my baby girl close right now. Take care.
Wow this really hit me. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you went through. I am so sorry… that is all I know how to say.
Right now, I am holding my sleeping baby on my lap. She was born in June, we call her our “Little Bug”. Before I started reading this I was thinking of putting her down to clean the bathroom. Screw cleaning. I’ll keep holding her.
I found your blog a few weeks ago with your post SILENCE. I came back to check in and read your story about Matthew yesterday. I could not bring myself to comment then because I did not know how to respond, I was so moved by your story. Words cannot express how I feel for you, so I just said a prayer…and one for all the parents who have lost children… Thank you for sharing your story.
Thanks for this post, I spent the remainder of the day holding and loving my 6 month old son, you really put things into perspective for me. Also, my husband is a funeral director and it’s nice to know his work is appreciated, he really does care about the families he services, and certain cases influence him very much. I would say your case probably impacted the funeral director more than you will ever know.
Loralee
My name is Brittny and Nancy Williams directed me to this post. I work for The Herald Journal and wondered if you would contact me about a few questions I have concerning online etiquette, especially in terms of what you experienced after submitting this blog. Thank you.
Also, I am so sorry for your loss. Mathew’s story breaks me heart. I only hope that that you have found solace somewhere to help you through this. Thank you for sharing your story
I am so sorry.
It is Ok to question God, to rant, rave, cry, scream at Him. He understands. Truly he does. He is holding Matthew in loving arms, and you will see him again. Never forget that.
If it helps any at all, try to feel blessed that God chose YOU to be that precious baby’s mother, and to have had the little bit of time you did to know him, and love him. He chose YOU above ALL others.
Also, I am a firm believer that everything is pre-ordained, and even if the blanket would not have been there, if he had not been put to sleep on his stomach, & on your bed, it would not have changed anything. This was no one’s fault, especially yours.
I pray for you to find peace, but in your own way, in your own time, and if this helps any at all, then I am honored. Kisses to you, your husband, and your other 2 boys.
L,
It’s been so difficult for me to talk/write/think about my losing my daughter. I’ve done it a couple times on my blog but it never seems that I do her justice.
I thank you for this post. Thank you for sharing everything I have been wanting to write but couldn’t. For honoring your magical little bug like I haven’t been able to.
Take it from someone who knows what you continue to go through. It was 5 years in Sept for me as well.
You’re stronger and braver than you’ve ever realized. Seriously.
Blessings,
Robin
Loralee,
My heart aches for you. May God continue to give you strength.
~Lisa
Thank you for sharing… your post is brave, real and beautiful.
I have been touched more than you know… you are such an inspiration.
I cannot even begin to imagine your pain and grief. Words don’t seem adequate… just wanted to say how deeply sorry I am.
Follow your heart
{{Hugs}}
I am so sorry for your loss. I read about you in the paper today and had to visit. I am touched beyond anything I expected to read.
I also forgot to ask which funeral home in the valley you used. Was it Nelson’s?
I have such fond memories of seeing you and Matthew and your family. I was broken hearted when he died and I still think that I carry some of it to this day, so I can’t imagine what you feel like.
This was an amazing and difficult read. I hope you and your family have peace and love.
Bless you. I cried for you tonight and want you to know that my thoughts and prayers will be with you. I lost a baby that I never got to know, he was stillborn and we chose to bury him. It is nothing like what you went through, but I can relate to the pain creeping up in waves. You are and will continue to be on my mind.
Sara
L-
Thank you. I’m so sorry.
I’ve always wondered what it’s like, you know, to go through something like that. I can relate to you in so many ways, so I cried through most of it.
I never know what to say, so I wont say anything more than I’m so sorry….
As I sit here and type this, I am crying. Oh my God, I am SO sorry that you had to go through that. I am so sorry ANYONE has to go through that.
I don’t know what to say… I wish there was something someone could say to ease the pain, but I know there’s not.
Will you accept a hug from a stranger?
Just wanted to leave a note to let you know I read every word. And I’m crying here at work for you…bless you…
All I can say is that my heart goes out to you and your family. I recently came across your blog and as I type this, it’s through many tears. I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing photos and memories of your Bug with us.
Just found your blog today and also read this and cried my eyes out for you. While I have zero useful words to say, I at least want you to know that I was here. I was touched by the funeral people’s small but significant ways of trying to make something already so absolutely sad and horrendous not any more worse, and I wish I could just give you a big hug through the screen, even if I don’t know you. Your grief is your own to deal with in whatever way makes sense to you or makes no sense but makes you feel (relatively) better. I still grieve losing my mom 13 years ago, and that is not even remotely the same kind of loss as yours, so it doesn’t seem at all odd to still hurt so much, even if I wish it didn’t.
I found this entry today through a series of links. My heart breaks for you. As a mom of two, I can’t imagine losing one. My son was a tummy sleeper too. Couldn’t sleep any other way. The last thing I read about SIDS was that they’re discovering that it’s a flaw in the brain. It isn’t anything you did. He could have been in the ‘perfect’ scenario for ’safe’ sleeping and this could have happened. I know a strangers words mean little, but I see no guilt for you. It was a horrible thing, but you didn’t cause it. I know as humans we need to blame someone, but here I see no blame. I hope you can absolve yourself of blame one day. And the only person who can tell you it might get better is someone else in your EXACT SAME SITUATION which is only you. No apology needed. And the next person who says ’silver lining’ just report them here, sounds like there are plenty of people who will let them know what’s what.
My Mommy’s heart is torn and crying for you.
My son was born September 25, 2003.
I will hug him a little tighter tonight.
Thank you for sharing, I’ve been touched…. deeply.
It’s been a few years since I first read about Matthew, but I want you to know that I cry every single damn time I read about him and you. My boy and Matthew would have been the same age. My heart breaks. As far as I’m concerned, there is no getting over it. A mother can never get over it because it’s always there. I miss him with you.
I didn’t know if I should comment or not because I didn’t want to bring you back to this post, and these thoughts, if you’re having a good day. But, I had to. I had to let you know I was here. That I cried tears for you and your Bug.
People who tell you you should be “over it,” or who ask “HOW long has it been” need to be hit over the head — hard. You are not expected to get over this. EVER. As you know. You’re encouraged (not “expected”) to cope with it. Two of my parents’ best friends lost children. Every day is a struggle for them.
So, I say, embrace your feelings: your grief, your horror, your guilt (even though you shouldn’t be ashamed of any of your perfectly-normal thoughts). This is all part of you.
This is all I can say to you because there are no words for any of this, really. This post was so amazing, though, in the way that you put words to the unspeakable. An incredible tribute to your son, to yourself, and a gift to parents everywhere going through this.
I wish you healing, and beautiful dreams of your little angel. (Totally crying right now. I’m so sorry for your loss.)
Thank you for baring your soul and showing the fragility of the Human Spirit.
Peace ~ April
may God bless you.
i am crying.
i have been so blessed. reading your blog i know it now more than ever.
oh my… my heart is heavy.
i wish you had never ever had to go through this.
sending warm hugs and best wishes….c.c.w.
((((((((Loralee)))))))
Loralee I have just started following you. This post has brought to the front(I will not say brought back because you well know they are never really gone)so many memories for me. I am not a physical mom who lost her baby. I am a grandmother who lost 2 grandsons and my own grandmother in the space of 4 months. First our little Hunter who we knew would most likely never come home with us. Can you prepare yourself for the death of a baby. If you can we did. We knew from the first ultra sound that he had only half of his heart. We had Hunter for 4 days and every moment was a fight for life in a medically induced coma. Until after 2 surgeries and him being brought back once, they told us his organs were failing his mother made the hardest decision of her life. Take him off life support. She said up until that point she had been fighting for his life. Anything more and she would just be torturing him for her peace of mind.
Then 2 months later my grandmother died.
Then on April 8th 2000 we lost our Doodlebug he had an asthma attack and drowned in a small pond that was not even deep enough to be over his head. He was 4 years old and more mine than his mothers. When he was born she was going through a really rough time and he and I bonded instead of him and his mom. They were living with us and I did everything for him. Rocked him, fed him, bathed him, changed him. For all intents and purposes I was his Mom I just did not give birth to him. He lived with me for 3 out of his 4 years. I somewhat know what you are going through. God that crinkle you talked about. Could they at least warn someone about that. Man this got longer than I intended. Yes you belong to a club that no one wants or should belong to. I think that people can be so insensitive my daughters husband told her to get over it. It had been 6 years and it was time to move on. You never get over it. You do deal with it and I know that is what you are doing just like so many of us in the club of losing a child. As my husband said once when I asked him if he was OK. “No I am alright but I will never be OK again.” I asked him what that meant. He told me that meant he was dealing, but to be OK Doodlebug would have to be alive and with us. Know that there are people who understand how much pain you are carrying and that it will never go completely away. There will always be those days when it hits us like it was yesterday that they really are gone. Love Hugs and Blessings
I meant to also give you this link to a story Doodlebugs aunt just wrote on his birthday of this past year. So almost 9 years later it is still right there. http://angela.quarantinemb.com/?p=430#more-430
I’ve been eyeballing the link here and finally clicked.. I am just so completely and wholly sorry for the pain you’ve had to endure. He was such a beautiful little baby and to have him ripped from you like that…. I just have no words.
I am so sorry for this. I can’t imagine your feelings and those of your family and friends. God Bless all of you. I’ll pray for all of you. I’m im my mid 50’s and a father. I cried when I read your story…
No one is judging you. No one is critical. Take all the time you need…And you don’t need to be sorry for anything. We are so sorry…
There are no words in any language for me to express how deeply I am hurting for you. I have no clue about the emotional, physical, and mental trauma associated with your child’s passing.
I don’t know you, but my heart is breaking in your behalf. Your son is remembered & that is as it should be. You & your family are in my prayers.
hi, I guess I just wanted to add that I too am in the club of losing a child — mine was not a 3 mos old baby, but a nearly 13 year old daughter. I understand how you decribe that freeze frame memory of the day. I too remember everything. you know what my worst days are like? it’s when I worry I’ll forget the little things and forget her face. I still cry daily for my baby girl who will never have first love, children, adult friendships, and the future we could have had together as she was my very best friend, not kidding. I miss her strongly and I am still grieving even though it’s been months (she died june 22nd) and it amazes people I still have extreme grief that I am working through. I wish we could meet and commiserate with one another. I wanted to join a bereavement group, but they were too full. They told me to try again next year, but really, wouldn’t most of the hurt be gone then? I know it is very slowly dwindling for me. I hope i haven’t offended you, i told a minister to go fuck himself, so I know that emotions can run high at these times. I have just purchased her headstone. I am hoping it won’t be too much longer before I see it…it may help in some small way.
I fought heartwrenching tears through this entire post. I just could not imagine the horrendous pain you went through.
This was in NO WAY your fault. Not everything is known about SIDS. I put both of my children on their stomachs to sleep and did you know that in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) they put babies on their bellies because it helps them sleep and digest easier? You could never have known what was going to happen….it could just as easily have happened to any of us others. You are a great mother.
My grandma is 86 years old now and lost a sister when the sister was 2yrs old from a drowning. She has cried everytime she has ever talked about it.
I don’t think a parent can ever stop grieving the loss of a child.
I am so desperately sorry for your loss. No mother should have to endure so much as a scraped knee. This is almost unbearable to read and I can’t even begin to imagine how you lived through it. You are a strong woman. Grieve for as long as you need. And talk as much and often as you want. We’re here for you.
Loralee, (and for the record, I think it’s a rockin name)
You don’t know me. I really don’t know you. And I really don’t know what I’m going to write but my heart is just broken for you. I am a Mom myself. Three cutie monsters, and my son Parker was born in July of 2003. Reading your post and looking at your sweet pictures of Matthew I couldn’t believe the resemblance. Although my Son does not have that adorable red hair, I was immediately back in 03 with my little squishy cheeked baby boy. We even had the same bouncy chair and I swear our photos are identical. I also cannot believe how similar our minds work. I tend to be a pessimist myself and having dealt with anxiety and depression problems my entire life, I know how those dark places feel and the weight of the task of climbing out. My biggest fear is and has always been loosing one of my babies. Last year I had two miscarriages, but I never held those babies. Not that it wasn’t horribly sad. But trying to process the thought of losing them after I had snuggled and smelled and stared at them is unbearable to me. You are incredibly articulate and brave. I am also LDS so I understand the trickiness that comes from that “culture” as well and the complexity of the phrase “the church is perfect, the people are not”. I also struggle daily with my own lack of understanding of how it all works and why. I have had nights when I stayed up all night praying and sobbing because I was getting the impression from people that all I had to do was have enough faith. Nothing. To this day I still don’t know why. Obviously the mind is a scary, powerful thing! I have never had a marvelous spiritual experience like the kind most people speak of. But I believe that the Lord loves us. Congrats on your new baby! I hope that you find all of the peace and healing that your heart needs. I hope you find answers. You are clearly a very strong person and loving Mother. Whatever your feelings on Religion, or questions that you have, maybe all you need to know is that Matthew is proud of you. And that he’ll be sending hugs with his little brother to pass on to you. Thank you for sharing your story.
Sarah
Hi Loralee,
A friend of mine just sent me the link to your BLOG, and I read it sobbing “that’s EXACTLY how I felt” at several points. My 9 1/2 week old daughter Dagny died October 17th, 2008 (just 6 months now) of SIDS. I wrote my story of the day here http://www.Donhoff.com.
I’d like to say one thing to you (as a fellow member of the club that nobody should ever be admitted to,) and it is this;
Feeling completely out of control of life is disorienting and immensely painful… and in this case (I can personally speak with the same (almsot *exactly* the same) experience as you,) we are both looking for “what part we played” in the death of our children. You know the old biblical saying “ask, and you shall receive”? It works the same with inquiries in the mind… and yes, you have found the ways you “played your part” with Matthews’ sleeping on his belly, pulling up the towel, etc.
Its simply emotionally unacceptable (to me, and apparently also to you) to shrug it all off as “it was random odds… coulda happened to anybody” or worse “it was just meant to be” (that helpless fatalism *SO* enrages me.)
SOMETHING ELSE TO REMEMBER, however, is this; THOUSANDS of children *DO* sleep on their bellies, pull blankets over their own heads, and sometimes to amazing things to themselves that every parent *SHOULD* freak out about if they were aware of it… and the kids survive just fine. The day after Dagny died we had a meeting with the Pastor who had been the “field chaplain” on call and was present at our house the day she died… and when my wife admitted her feelings of terror & guilt that Dagny had died by pulling the blanket up over her head, the Pastor called into his office the woman who ran their church daycare services, and asked her to explain how most parents put their children down for a nap at the center during the church services. The lady then told how it was extremely common for mothers to lullaby their chiled in a basinet or stroller to sleep, then cover them entirely over the basinet with a blanket to keep warm. (I was amazed even at that… whatta I know, I’m a new Dad…. but I guess that speaks to how much more resilient kids are than we often think.)
YES… you “did something” or “allowed something” that *MIGHT* have had a contribution to the death (and I only know I can get away with saying this because I am in your exact shoes, and more freshly to boot,) HOWEVER… you were also in the position of “parent”… which means that it is also *IMPOSSIBLE* to perfectly do absolutely everything perfectly (including the “gray areas” of childcare theory.)
SO… it’s OK to “own” the parts & pieces of life we control and contribute to… but be gentle with yourself, and don’t let “responsibility” convert itself to “blame” (or worse, “shame.”) You’ve got the track record of at least two other kidlets that show you are a GOOD Mom… you care, you love, and based on that I am confident that if we could talk with Matthew he’d tell you how awesome you were for him.
LIFE IS MESSY… like a nicely ripe mango! You’ve got to do your best, but its going to be sticky… and juicy and sweet… and don’t let the strings in your teeth get you down (you can floss later ;~)
We *ALL* have our core spiritual believes… and I believe that Matthew’s spirit is simultaneously in Heaven with your ancestors all excited to receive him, coddling & spoiling him… *AND* present & surrounding YOU and his Daddy. When you see other babies and mentally “paste his face on top” (I do that all the time, have to believe you do to,) that is MATTHEW’S spirit finding a way to share his love with you. Same when you see toddlers, youngsters, teenagers, etc… all while imagining how Matthew would be at that point (I do it… all the time.) This isn’t YOU going insane (and definitely not anything “pathetic”…) its your little boy’s spirit SHOWING UP for you! Yes… its only visible in the silence of your own mind… but that’s not because you are hallucinating… it is because HE is ONLY TALKING TO YOU!!!!
Be gentle with yourself… and remember, LISTEN for your little boy’s messages, and treat yourself the way HE would WANT his Mommy to be treated!
Love
Dave (Dagny’s Dad)
I don’t know you from Adam, but was touched by your story. My best to you and your family.
this comment comes months after you initially wrote this blog, but i ran accross it while reading about Maddie Spohr. i have a 5 yr old and a 5 month old, and i just want you to know that even though i have never experienced a loss like yours and obviously hope i never do- i just sobbed and sobbed reading your story. i hope that you take your time and if you need to grieve this intensely for the rest of your life, you do it and damn anyone who tells you different.
[...] For those curious about Matthew: *Trauma [...]
Terribly terribly sorry.
i read this original post at the time and thought, “how horrible.”
now, I’m here, right where you were and don’t know how i’m going to be able to cope. i so don’t want to be a member of this club. i don’t like clubs especially ones that involve children that die so senselessly.
thank you for your comment today. it means so much knowing there is someone who knows exactly how i feel.
Oh, God, Loralee, my heart is breaking for you. This was the most raw, real thing I have ever read in my life. I don’t know what to say except you are so incredibly brave and strong. Peace, prayers, hugs…I wish I could do something to ease your pain.
i ended up here after reading about what happened to gorillabuns’ son…and through tears, i am typing to tell you that a stranger in australia says i am so so so sorry for your loss.
I found you via #maddie and all of your kind words and suppport around their family. I, like you, did not know them but feel compelled to support. I have not been through what you have gone through and I don’t want to dilute your experience with words. I do care, you are amazingly real, and whether you feel it or now, I feel your strength, the strength to get it out, stand in it, let others shoot at you during that sharing, and stay standing. I support you in all of it and the healing that i hope will result from the obvious trudging you have had to do. I hope you can feel the support and caring of those who know you well, and those who have just met you.
jana
I too came here via Maddie’s tragedy. Everything here said – 10 times over. Your pain is valid to the highest degree. I’m shocked at some of the insensitive comments left. I just don’t understand how someone who has experienced your pain could hit that “submit comment” tab in any judgement.
you probably get tired of hearing this but you are a pillar of strength and i thank you for making me appreciate every second with my son even more. God Bless you and your family. <<>>
*HUGS*
Geez, I can’t even imagine. My heart goes out to you. I cried.
Headless Mom sent me an email as well to check in on your site; being that you live in the county my son had to visit. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to peak before we headed up to north. During our break of working on the 4th grade county report yesterday, I read your blog.
I was there for hours, mostly because it took me that long to read about your precious little Bug. I don’t cry; but as I read your eloquent words written with such passion, I began to feel that horrible lump in my throat and had to turn away. I would come back and finish reading, but tears welled and tears fell from my cheeks.
Grieving is a normal thing however painful it may be. Society expects us to take a week to gather our ourselves together and then jump back into the world. Personally, I believe grieving is a life long process, and nothing will ever replace the heartache. I can only hope that one day, you will all again be together as a family…
Your words oozed such love for your child and family. I’m thankful that you did write of Bug’s death and experience not only for you but for us. You have allowed us a glimpse into your world; the pain of heartache and the strength of family.
You ARE a pillar of strength to your readers and family; I appreciate your honesty and openness. God bless you and your family.
Bless your sweet heart. It doesn’t change a thing, but there are those who do understand, who wish with you, that parents never ever had to live through the heartbreak of losing a child.
You are wise beyond the telling of it. No, it won’t ever go away. Yes, it will continue to become easier to live with even though there will also be times when it feels all brand new again.
My heart goes out to you, and you and Matthew – and all your family – are in my thoughts.
yours,
Nan
Sometimes, I just come by and read this. xo
[...] “too busy”. What am I thinking??!! I’m reminded of a very tender hearted post written by a fellow blogger about the loss of her [...]
I don’t know what to say.. I just read this post and my heart cries out for you.. I’m so sorry!!
But I do want to tell you that you are a very brave woman, what you endured is not something mild it’s a life shattering experience but you are here to tell us about it!
I will not tell you that you will forget, it will get easier to deal with as the years go by but you will NEVER forget! You are a mom and losing a child is the worse that could happen no matter what age he/she was.
I could only send a virtual hug your way and pray for you and your family. Take care :)
Just came by your site via MomofTwoBoys (on Twitter). I lost my baby boy due to placental abruption- he passed away half an hour after was born. Losing a baby is the worst thing to ever happen to a person, and I am sorry you had to experience it.
Though I’ve never lost a baby, I lost my 12 year old last June 22nd, the anniversary is coming up and I know I will be a wreck. I am already feeling the blues about it, it’s looming over my head. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t cry for teh loss of my daughter. My PTSD turned into psychosis and I had to live in teh psych ward for about 2 months (which I think was the worst thing for me but anyways) I just wanted to let you know that I too am in this club of mothers. I wish we could be in person to comfort one another, but there again, that might be harder. *sigh* IDK. I am currently in a support group for mothers (some of them had children that died 5 or more years ago) and though we are healing, we are healing through tears and sad memories of each and every story. Just wanted to say I understand. take care
Loralee,
I can only add this:
Thank you for helping me (us?) know what NOT to say to grieving parents. Dear friends just lost their child, and I was horrified by some things people felt free to say.
The greater the love, the greater the grief…
Thank you for your honesty. God bless you and you will be in my prayers. I’m so sorry for your loss.
I am so sorry. It’s a beautifully written post about a horribly tragic story. Your beautiful little bug is in my thoughts.
I am so, so deeply, deeply sorry for your loss. I try not to live in absolute fear that the same thing could happen to my baby boy, but it’s in there, down deep. I’m so sorry that you have had to go through this. God bless.
[...] help either the imagery that Loralee, of Loraleesloneytunes.com created when she wrote her post about the loss of her son to SIDS and all she went through. That post has stuck with me and has [...]
“If they revive Matthew and he is horribly brain damaged, could I deal with that? Do I want him alive at any cost? Even if he is severely impaired?”
I thought the same thing about my Emma. I think it is natural.
Thank you for sharing this. So much of it I could relate to, from the above to the death rattle, I thought Emma was breathing again. It is just the worst.
I couldn’t finish the whole post, I will another day. You and I were going through this Hell at the same time. They died 1 month apart exactly.
I am so sorry.
Oh, Sweetpea. I must’ve read this post a thousand times and never felt like I had quite the right words to say, even though I wanted to tell you how beautiful your writing is and how much I was crying for you. So, here’s my verbal “hug”, many months later…
I do believe your sweet Bug is happy as a clam in heaven, even though I wish he was still in your arms here on earth. I also believe that he’s waiting happily for the day when he can wrap his chubby arms around your neck, cover you in kisses, and tell you with love and certainty that what happened that day was NOT your fault. And that he loves you so, so much and is so proud and blessed to have you as his Mama, because no one else could have been his Mama any better than you. It was no mistake that you two were matched up.
And I also hope I said the right thing, because if anyone deserves a smile, it is you. I am so happy for your newest addition and the joy he brings with him.
Many hugs to you, Loralee. I think you are a fantastic human being and mother.
I sat at my desk today and cried. I deal with my own grief everyday the tears that streamed down my face were cleansing. I hope you can find refreshment in the tears that stream down your face as well
Loralee,
My heart aches for you, even though I know Matthew is with his Savior now, he should still be with you for many many years. I pray that as time passes your pain will be more bearable. My own family lost an infant very recently and I know how much you are suffer and continue to suffer.
I’m just catching up on your blog, Loralee, and I am so very sorry about your loss. I am grieving with you. Sending hugs and love your way.
sobbing my eyes out right now. i’m so very sorry for your loss.
My 6 year old sister passed away 44 years ago. She was here one day and gone the next…no warning. She just died. I have never forgotten her. My Mother has told me she will never let go of her grief, it is hers and hers alone. She said she just got used to Cathleen not being there but a day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t think of her. Me either. I will pray that you will continue to remember Matthew and the good memories, and that the horrible images in your dreams turn into lovely dreams.
It’s probably an Australian way to phrase it but anniversaries are a bastard. People who think anniversaries are for thinking of the good times obviously haven’t experienced soul wrenching grief.
My heart goes out to you and yours.
Sweetie, God bless you. I’ve been there too.
I am sitting here in tears…i am a mommy, too. It’s almost unbearable to feel your grief, but I feel it proudly.
My parents died when I was 9, in an accident. I still miss them, and sometimes it sucks, and hurts, and makes me angry, and it is easier sometimes than others, but I have come to the conclusion that the hurt doesn’t ever go away. We have to find some way to bear the unbearable, you and me and everyone else who has lost someone they love. Best of luck finding the road through that. Sending love,
Amanda
I’m actually crying from reading your story. I don’t even know what to say except how sorry I am.
I have read this several times and it brings tears to my eyes each time… no one should ever have to go through that. I don’t know what else to say– I’m not sure if you need it now, but ((( hugs )))
I always need hugs from this.
ALWAYS.
THANK YOU.
xo
I don’t think there is a mother out there that just read that and didn’t imagine it being her baby and how she would have felt. I am still wiping the tears from my face. That is my biggest fear. I wish there was something that I could do for you, but I know that I can’t. I know it’s been said a million times over , but I’m so sorry. Greive. I know that I would be. I wouldn’t want any damn lemonade either. Don’t worry about what people say, but you could talk to your doctor about maybe giving you a little nerve medicine for this time of year. I do know of people having to resort to that just to get through the days. It might sound bad to say that, but you have other children and whatever it takes to help you will help them also. I hope that I’ve helped you in some way. Just know, that from the bottom of my heart, even though I don’t know you personally, I care.
I’m sitting here doing the ugly cry. Hiccuping, with tears streaming down my face. No human, no mother, should ever have to endure that kind of pain. I’m experiencing a microscopic portion for you this morning, and I am so sorry for your heartache. Beautiful post, very well written. Thank you for sharing your heart.
This. This is exactly it, and I want to thank you for sharing it with us as much as you could. My dad passed on September 23, 2008, and this year made for the first anniversary of it. And people (my friends at college and online) tried to direct the form my grief took that day. Everything you said about thinking about the good times the rest of the time rings true for me. The anniversary became a time to be depressed, to mourn, to yearn, and relive, and no one can change that.
I know the circumstances and everything are all so very different, but this type pain reverberates to all of the others.
[...] advice from my own mother (a women not prone to advice-giving). To add to that I recently read a post over at loraleeslonneytunes about the short life of her precious baby Matthew. In this post Loralee discusses the day (and [...]
I have no words. My heart aches for the hole you feel in yours. Hugs won’t help but I’ll give them to you anyway ((loralee). I also pray for peace. It’s not meant as lemonade or trite words, and it doesn’t mean the pain and grief go away, it’s just I hate for you to hurt so very bad. ((loralee))
I am so sorry…I am not sure what else to say that has not already been said.
No mother or father should have to go through this…no matter what. Bottom line.
Hugs and prayers.
Oh I am so sorry and before you explained why two days later was the worst I already understood. It all became far too real.