I can feel it coming.
It’s that time of year again.
Certainly, it’s not as difficult as September.
Nothing is as difficult as September.
But this isn’t easy.
Not by a long shot.
Every year, I try so hard to make the fall out minimal, to keep my chin up, to not pester to be cheered up and cry on people and just shut up about it as much as possible because it’s been 7 years and there is only so many times people can say they are sorry and you start getting the feeling you should just be better than you are already.
Every year I will the calendar pages to just magically pass over these difficult dates and pretend they don’t exist.
And yet, they always find me anyway.
I’ve taken to calling this month “The Triumvirate” in my head.
And it’s a doozy.
Mother’s Day: May 9th
Memorial Day: May 31st
Matthew’s Birthday: June 7th
It always sucks.
I just breathe, put one foot in front of the other and get through it the best that I can.
All without a red-headed boy who should be signing his name in crooked letters on my Mother’s Day card, getting BBQ sauce on his face from the family Memorial Day cook out, and blowing out 7 candles on a birthday cake.
I’ll never get that card.
He’ll never eat that meal.
I’ll never bake that cake.
And tonight?
That really, REALLY hurts.
*Leaving comments open on posts like this is always a bit tough. While comments and Internet hugs and loves are usually the sun in my day, please do not feel obligated to say anything. People can only say they’re sorry so many times and some of you have read many, many, MANY posts like this one. So please…it’s ok. I know we’re loved. xo
Lots of love to you. That’s the first time I’ve seen Matthew’s picture. He’s beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous! Those lips! Hugs, hugs, hugs.
I don’t think anyone would ever expect you to be anything more or less than who you are right now. You are an amazing woman and I am so sorry for your loss. Just reading about it was heartbreaking. I can’t imagine having lived through it. You are so strong. Even when you feel weak. xo
I cannot express how much I ache for you. Losing a child is so difficult, I can’t even imagine. My mom had a stillborn baby girl when I was six. I have no idea how my mom made it through day after day. My sister would be 23 this year and I can say that not a day goes by that I don’t think about her and wonder “what if…..”!??!
I pray that you are comforted and carried through these hard days ahead. I would be willing to bet that Matthew is closer than you know, especially when you are having such a hard time missing him!
My heart breaks for you, Loralee.
I just want to reach through my screen and hug you
*HUGS* Love to you xo
Nobody could ever blame you for having a really hard time on Mother’s day. Especially another mother. My family sends you love and hugs.
BIG HUGS to you all. xo
Loralee, you KNOW that I fully understand what you are going through. Try explaining to someone that you are crying because you lost a baby 40 years ago! The tears come less often, but the memories of that horrible night is always there, waiting to engulf me once again.
Sending you understanding, hugs, and love.
I love you, Sharon. You’ve listened to this story of pain a lot in 5 years. xo
I can’t imagine the loss of a child & how much that hurts. I do know we buried my mom 11 years ago today, the Friday before Mother’s Day. I hate the month of May because I’m convinced May is out to get me for that and many other reasons. Feel free to cry, be angry & every other emotion- it is your right.
So sorry. What horrible timing. (NO time is good but dang..that must sting)
Oh, Loralee, nobody can tell you how and when to grieve or when to be done with it, if ever. You own that. It’s your grief, no one else’s.
I am absolutely dreading Sunday. Bob always made sure I had a special day.
Maybe we can synchronize our sobfest and think about each other for a few minutes on Mother’s Day — I’ll send you some love from California. Some snot, too, most likely. Seems to be how I roll these days.
Just know you’ll be in my heart.
Oh, Leah.
Sweet girl.
Your Bob was AMAZING and my heart has been breaking for you that you lost him.
I will absolutely be thinking about you on Sunday and sending love and strength from my neck of the woods. xo
I´m so sorry,hugs from a mother to another.
thinking of you and sending love across the miles
Vx
Hey Loralee, you are loved. And I’m still so, so sorry for your loss. xxoo
Thinking and praying for you. One day at a time. ((HUGS))
Love you and we are here for you 100%
There’s no time limit for grieving. You do what you do honey.
Yes. You know you are loved. And that’s a good thing. It’s taken a lot of work on our part to let you know that. Now we have to work on letting you know just HOW MUCH. And I’m not sure that’s possible.
I understand your grief, Loralee. Those of us who have lost children know a special kind of sadness, and as much time as passes, there is little that can be done to fill the hole left in our lives by the absent child. I understand. I share a measure of it. And I know that doesn’t make it any better. It just helps me understand you better. And, perhaps, love you just a bit more.
It’s a horrible club, no?
Good thing the people in it are so kind and supportive or it would be even harder.
xo
It is easy to forget that Mother’s Day is not a day of joy for everyone. Wishing you some peace during this tough time, Loralee.
I DO have joy on Mother’s Day. I have 3 beautiful children that I adore and love. But man…it hurts too.
I can relate to you on such a personal level. My triumvirate is:
April 23 – she was born and died in same hour.
May 1 – the day we buried her.
May 9 (this year)- Mother’s Day. It’s always about 8-10 days after we buried her, every year, and I hate it.
It’s been 10 years this year. Believe me when I say, I know this time of year sucks majorly. I am keeping you in my prayers!
I’m so sorry, Cissa. You’re just in the thick of it. xo
I also forgot to add that my step-dad died on April 30th, 2007, so that just adds another gouge in my already lousy time frame.
{HUGS} to you…my friend
I’ll say sorry and that I’ll be thinking of you each of these days and others in between every time you write about it. I’ll never say that I know how you feel, or that you shouldn’t grieve forever. xoxo
P.S. For whatever reason, it just now hit me that while I was struggling and learning about having a one month old in 2003, you were going through absolute hell. Those sleepless nights and struggles with reflux seemed so big. They seem so stupid now.
I have other friends with children born in September of 2003. It’s odd to think that while they were so happy and had newborns I was burying mine.
And it can be pretty bitter sweet seeing photos and hearing stories and such.
BUT…
It’s also really comforting. I have a measure of what milestones Bug might be going through. It’s been so long since I’ve seen kids that age, I forget all the things they do at the ages they do it at. Lots of days it really makes me smile, if that makes sense.
my mom lost a baby to SIDS before I was born and she says for a while she was really sad all the time and depressed and dreaded those days but after she had the rest of us (that was her first baby, there’s now me and my 2 younger siblings) she decided that she didnt want to teach us that death was this horrible sad thing. So we started celebrating that baby’s birthday. Every year we make a cake and sing and all help blow out the candles and we take flowers to his grave. On the day he died (2 months and change after his birthday) we mourn and are sad but we celebrate the life he did have on his birthday. I don’t know if this would work for you, but she says it really helped to start celebrating him for once instead of just crying over how horrible it is that he’s not here with us.
Well…death is a horrible sad thing. Especially with children.
But I see your point.
And we DO DO THAT.
Bug’s birthday is to celebrate that he LIVED. We celebrate, we go out as a family, we do not go to the cemetery.
It’s a day to focus on the joy that he was.
But…
It still rips my heart to bits underneath all the joy.
I can’t help it.
I just want to thank you for continuing to be honest on your blog. I don’t know if I would ever survive or “get over it” if I lost my Emberly. I commend you for sharing your pain and your joy with the rest of us. I hope it helps another grieving mother, I know it’s helped me even though I can’t begin to imagine the true pain.
You should never feel like you shouldn’t leave comments open. We don’t feel obligated to say we’re sorry. You, in a way that only happens online, are our friend. When you hurt, we hurt for you. There’s almost nothing we wouldn’t do to ease the hurt. Each time my eyes tear up for you because I can’t imagine being without my babies. So you continue crying and mourning. This isn’t something you “get over”. Because of this I will continue to say *hugs* and love and my thoughts are with you through this difficult time.
I can’t even imagine the heartache. You are so brave to put this out on your blog and I hope in some way it helps you. Sending a hug and a prayer.
Reading “I’m Sorry……I love you…..”….is a hug on paper, becuase if we were standing in front of you, there would be no words, just hugs!!!!!! I’m sending a diet coke your way (of course with a hug)!
Oh–but even if you know you’re loved, it won’t hurt you to read it again–right?
Hang in there.
Love you. Big hugs.
You are so loved, by so many people. There are people out here holding you up, wrapping you in love and support. Hugs.
Thanks for the reminder to cherish the crooked letters, the BBQ stained face, and the spit covered birthday cake. It’s so easy to take these things for granted and I don’t want to. Love you Loralee.
Ah yes, Rubik! Death touches us all. But it pains us the most when a child is taken. I remember the gnawing heartache of giving young babies to new parents after having cared for them in a foster household for months after they were born. You could always console yourself that they were with “new” parents that would love and care for them.
Giving them over to the void of the unknown is a pain that is only knowable by those that have experienced it.
((Comfort to you))
Well, I haven’t been a reader for long, so I haven’t said I’m sorry that many times at all. And I am – I’m so sorry for your pain and suffering and the tragedy you’re living through. I hope that you take comfort from all the people who you touch through your writing and know that you’re in my thoughts.
*hugs*
You can never give or get too many hugs.
so…
(((loralee))))
much love mama.
xo
I know sweetie, I know.
I debated back and forth whether or not I should post. Honestly many times in situations like this I honestly don’t know what to say or how to act. I have never been there so I don’t have the empathy or understanding.
I do have sympathy though. I know growing up there was a lady I knew very well that went into mourning and isolation for the month of October and was always more solemn from August through Thanksgiving. I still know and love and adore her…she still goes through that every year. Her son died in October in 1986.
My grandma died missing her baby that died during birth.
I don’t think that it has EVER been “long enough” when it involves your child dying. It always breaks my heart when I hear a grieving parent say that others think that they should be “over it”. I can’t imagine the heart break but I can imagine that it isn’t something you can EVER get over.
I am truly sorry that this is a hard time right now for you!
I’m achy with you. Hang in there. *hugs*
Good thoughts.
Love.
Cause we have lots to spare where I am. And some of it can always be for someone who makes me laugh (when she can. : )
-Lori
There’s no time limit on this. My own triumvirate is in October, yet in early April I sat at his grave and wept. 9 & 1/2 years over here. No time limit. Keep feeling, it’s more than okay. Thank you for sharing your love for your boy.
I can’t imagine that this kind of loss is something that “time heals all wounds” would apply to. I also can’t imagine that anyone would really think you should be “over” the loss of your son no matter how much time has passed. You are brave to share this deep of a heartache with the whole wide world, and it makes your beautiful son a little part of each of our lives too making his legacy stronger with each reader.
BIG ***HUGS*** to you as you get through your Triumvirate this year.
I can’t imagine that this kind of loss is something that “time heals all wounds” would apply to. I also can’t imagine that anyone would really think you should be “over” the loss of your son no matter how much time has passed. You are brave to share this deep of a heartache with the whole wide world, and it makes your beautiful son a little part of each of our lives too making his legacy stronger with each reader.
BIG ***HUGS*** to you as you get through your Triumvirate this year.
I’m hugging you. You can never have too many hugs.
I love you, Loralee, because it’s all I can really say.
I know. I understand. I love you. I am here.
Hugs?
Tissue?
Diet Coke?
…I wish I could offer something that would change this reality…
My best friend calls her week this month “Hell Week”. It’s her birthday, Mother’s Day, and then the anniversary her mom died of cancer when she was only 10. It’s so hard and people say, “It gets better”. Bullocks on them. I’m so sorry and I hope it passes quickly. *hug*
I cannot even pretend I know what it feels like to lose a child and pray everyday that I never do; but I do know what it feels like to lose someone extremely important. When I was 14 my brother died in a car accident. It has been 14 years and it doesn’t mean that it hurts any less then the day it happened. I basically shut down the months of June/July because his birthday and passing are only 2 weeks apart. I feel like a horrible mother for this since I have my own beautiful daughter that was born in July. It catches up with me at night on her birthday that my brother will never know her, he’ll never hold her, he’ll never get to hear her contagious giggle. You may wonder why I’m telling you this and it is just because I want you to know that you should never worry about people who think you should be doing better by now; instead pray that they never understand how you feel. ::hugs::
Truly ‘feeling’ you today. Is it okay to say I really dislike this day? Missing my own mom;who we buried on Mother’s Day and missing my own lad, who should be here on his Mother’s Day.
Time for a nap!
Hugs and love to you!
Loralee – I just came to your blog today, and I read your story about Matthew. I am so very sorry for your loss and I can understand how you feel around these days.
But your story also was like a relief to me, a permission to grieve. My second daughter was stillborn 10 years ago and it still hurts like hell. However, I eventually hid my grief, packed it away because people expected me to having been over that loss (only three months after her death). I even un-learned to truly cry. Your story made me realize how much I still grieve and you and all the comments finally gave me the permission that this is okay.
Thank you so very much.
Hugs and love to you.
Maybe that is why there is a very joyous day in between all the sorrow. That beautiful blue eyed wonder turns 1. There is always beauty among the thorns, if we look. May the joy and wonder of Aaron’s bid day help to lessen the hurt of the others. Love your guts, me