I have come to accept that the loss of a child means that grief will often catch me off guard and when I least expect it. No matter how long it has been since Matthew died I will always grieve his loss.
I have not always realized that intense joy can, and will, co-exist along with my crushing sadness and grief. This realization came after a very long and difficult road and did not truly sink in until the birth of Aaron Micheal.
My sweet baby.
Aaron makes me happy.
It doesn’t matter if he is puking his guts out on me, screaming intensely or grinning his head off.
He always makes me happy.
But just like always, grief can rear its ugly head right along side that joy and happiness.
After a very stressful night of running errands, packing, scurrying, running and puzzling things out, I was finally allowed some down time with my small one.
I grabbed the little butterbean up and snuggled him in my arms. My reward for such glee was a blanket of baby barf that covered the both of us. When this happens, I can’t stand the thought of his soft skin getting irritated by wet, chafting clothes.
I always change him first.
I got him out of his wet outfit and only after his diaper was changed did I look down at his little feet.
I saw these:
A searing jolt of shock and pain ripped through me.
Hard.
This pair of socks have been sitting in the drawer of my night stand for almost 6 years. I have seen them every morning, every evening and many times in between. Someone must have packed up that drawer during our move and mistakenly put them in with Aaron’s little things and then dressed him in them tonight.
For 6 years I’ve held these socks. Worn them on my fingers. Rubbed the fabric to my face. Sobbed into them.
As I looked at the familiar blue material I felt my heart twist and hurt and before I could stop them, tears prickled my eyes and ran down my face as images raced through my mind.
Things I want to forget so much.
Things that will always be with me.
Emergency vehicles all over my lawn.
The smell of the trauma bay.
Flashing lights.
Beeping monitors.
The metalic sound of medical instruments crashing together as a doctor bumped into a cart.
The terrible, horrible screams that seemed to be coming from some other far away place and person but for the burning rawness in my throat that identified them as mine.
And?
My son.
My Little Bug.
My strong, red-headed little man.
My Matthew.
My very loved, very naked, very still baby being worked on by so many medical personel that all I could see were his little white feet.
Cold white feet.
With one blue sock on them.
These socks belonged to Matthew.
He died wearing one of them.
One little blue sock was the only piece of clothing left on the body of my little one. One little blue sock that couldn’t possibly give near enough warmth to him in such a cold, cold place.
My poor, sweet baby.
I hate grief.
I hate loss.
I hate that I have lost the most precious thing on the earth and that I will never, ever get it back.
I HATE IT.
I always will.
But…
Seeing my wee Aaron wear those dear, treasured socks made me remember my sweet Matthew. How he looked wearing them with the outfit that I spent hours picking out for his first trip to the zoo. How the color of it made his eyes so very blue and just how those sweet eyes lit up and smiled at me long before his little mouth could. How right it is to have a sweet little baby foot wearing them. A foot that I love and treasure just as much as the one that wore that little blue sock so many years ago.
I have another baby to love.
Another chance.
Another gift.
I will never, ever forget my Matthew.
I will never, ever forget my love for him.
He will always make me happy.
And something shifted for me in that moment. A tiny shift for certain, but enough to make the colors of my feelings alter.
And I smiled through my tears.
Seeing those little blue socks on my little babe made me feel closer to my little angel.
It made me feel that part of him is still here.
That he will always be here.
It made me happy.
Just like they both do.
Just like they always will.
Always.
You made me cry. Again. You evoke so many memories for me of a time when I stood in the corner of my parent’s bedroom as my father tried frantically to revive my baby brother who would never awake from his sleep.
To this day, with three small children of my own, the day is as vivid as yesterday.
And it will be.
Always.
xxx
Damn, woman. Real men don’t cry. Except for now.
My heart breaks and smiles for you at the same time. I am so happy Aaron has brought healing to you.
Waaahhhh… you made me cry and smile at the same time this morning.
Smiling and crying.
Thank you for sharing your pain, and your joy. Prayers for you all.
I would love to give you a hug, but a virtual one will have to do. Babies are such a blessing! We’re happy for you, and I totally understand!
Beautiful beautiful post.
I know it’s redundant, but I’ve got to say it, too…beautiful writing, beautiful words, and I’m so glad that you were able to smile through those tears today!
You are so wide open in your writing. I’m not brave enough to do that… you are The Woman.
I love you sweet girl.
This is beautiful, Loralee. It’s a blessing that you get this happiness with Aaron, and that Matthew gets to be a part of that. ((hugs))
Wow. That’s an amazing post. I am so glad that you have Aaron and that he is bringing you happiness. He’s a beautiful little boy.
This is a beautiful post. I’m crying for you, with you, maybe both?
I’m glad you were able to put a better memory with those adorable blue socks.
Hugs to you and that beautiful boy of yours.
A beautiful post for two very beautiful boys. It makes this conference call I’m late for just not matter so much.
Some serious tears here. You are blessed to have Aaron, but you are right; the grief still lives there and comes back to haunt occasionally. This weekend is hard because it is one year, Sunday, that Collin died. Hard times.
Thank you so much for sharing this and reminding me that great joy lies ahead, someday.
i don’t have very many words lately, even though i want them.
i have a very special place in my heart for you.
xoxo
That was beautiful. It brought me to tears, but at the same time I am so happy that you are able to find joy. Your little boy is beautiful, and you are blessed to have each other. :)
I have lurked here for awhile and this is the first time i’ve had the guts to comment.
You are amazing. Wonderful, Fantastic. I do not know how you do what you do. You are blessed and i look up to you.
and your baby is so freaking cute! keep him under wraps he’s gonna send the girls CRAZY!!
I’m so happy you have Aaron.:) You deserve a little bundle of joy.
There is a reason those socks ended up on Aaron. I know your heart has deep sorrow and I am so sorry for your loss. You will never, ever forget Matthew but you are moving forward with Aaron. That is a blessing.
Loralee, I am SOBBING.
And smiling for you.
Loralee,
You break my heart. You lift me up.
You have ALL my love.
XOXOX
Tears and hugs. I am so happy and so sad for you all at once.
This post is being featured on Five Star Friday –
http://www.fivestarfriday.com/2009/08/five-star-fridays-edition-65.html
so deep that it even gave me goosebumps. It was beautiful, amazing, and I dont know what other words to use because they dont do it justice.
:here’s me giving you a virtual hug:
Wow. Just. Wow.
Aaron is beautiful. That post is beautiful. I don’t know what more to say.
I just wanted to say *sobs* that *hiccup* you made me cry *sob* at work. *SOB* Again! *sob*
Thank you for sharing this raw emotion in a way that really touches people. You are amazing. Truly, amazing.
My heart and thoughts and wishes of joy go out to you today.
Wow! I am so happy to hear the pain, while never fogotten, is lifting a bit. I can’t imagine what you went through or how you survived because I doubt I could have. But survive to love another day and another beautiful spirit you have. {{Hugs}}
Damn it, girl, this was so beautiful and sad and HARD.
May FEW ever truly understand what your are saying, but may you always share it with us so that we can be there and live it as well as we can.
Thank you, through my tears.
Like BusyDad said, it puts everything else in perspective. A very thought provoking and touching post.
So beautiful and it speaks highly of u as a mother to write that makes us all slow down and appreciate the “little” things. Thank you for sharing your story and I hope more read it. Blessings
Thank you for sharing something so heartwrenching and touching all at the same time. It is funny how complex life can be at times. And it is such a blessing that you are able to open your heart so fully to remember the baby you have lost and love the baby you have now.
I’m so happy that you’re able to smile and see that Aaron wearing those same socks can be a beautiful thing. I should have hugged you tight when I had the chance. x
So heart-wrenchingly beautiful. And sweet.
Damn.
While I have no idea what your grief must be like, you have many times given us a glimpse into how palpable that loss can be.
I wish I could be there to give you a hug.
Brought me to tears…
Beautiful post. I am glad that you are finding smiles amidst the tears. You will never forget your Matthew, and Aaron will help in his own little way. xo
Tears in my eyes. Love to you.
xo
It sounds like the act of an angel — the shifting of those socks from the drawer to Aaron’s feet.
Hugs, Loralee.
Crying and smiling for you at the same time. What a blessing to have that shift, ever so slight. Totally different scenario but I am hoping my husband will have that for his brother someday. He died 1 1/2 years ago, in a motorcycle crash. My husband says he doesn’t believe in souls or spirituality yet it pains him terribly to think of his brother so cold and alone at the cemetary.
Oh Loralee, I have tears in my eyes for you and both of your baby boys. Absolutely beautiful post about your precious Matthew and Aaron. Sending lots of hugs your way as I head over to hug my sleeping little guy thanks to you.
Very sorry for your loss, but I’m smiling at your gain.
Oh, sweetie. Sending hugs and love to you. xoxo
I should buy stock in Kleenex. You always touch my heart. Thank you.
I hope it is not weird for me to say how happy this makes me. That you got that little shift. Because we never know when that blessed shift will occur while we grieve but it’s a small miracle when it does.
So bittersweet finding these socks. Making my heart warm and ache at the same time. Thank you for sharing this special moment with the internet. Hugs to you.
The other evening we were talking. One of us said, “Sometimes i wish we had never had the boys because it’s overwhelmingly scary to think about losing them.” Long contemplative silence ensued. But, slowly, like a snowball going downhill we started sharing little precious tidbits of their lives, our lives. Another silent pregnant pause and then, “Never mind, I’m so glad they are ours.” steve
Loralee….I am so happy that you have gotten another chance. Blessings come in blue socks!
Oh goodness. Yes! Smiling through the tears.
xoxo
I am so whelmed at this beautiful post thanks to Schmutzie for throwing me over to read it. Now those two beautiful boys are symbolically connected.