"The only difference between the old and young dying is, one lives longer in heaven and eternal light and glory than the other, and is freed a little sooner from this miserable, wicked world. Notwithstanding all this glory, we for a moment lose sight of it, and mourn the loss, but we do not mourn as those without hope." Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph SmithI love that last bit... "we do not mourn as those without hope." But, we still mourn and I have every right to mourn.
I've come to learn that grieving is incredibly lonely. Sometimes the loneliness is so overbearing that I feel like I'm being suffocated. I'm not entirely sure how to explain it... it can just feel very, very overwhelming. I never thought it was possible to be surrounded by people and still feel very much alone. Even my sweet and supportive husband has a difficult time trying to understand all the pain I feel, because he didn't feel Carver move inside his body or physically push him out. I think the grieving process is different for mothers; its almost as if I've lost a part of myself, because he was a part of me for so long. And, I won't have that part of myself back until we're reunited again.
I've also come to realize that this loneliness and burden will be a part of my life for the rest of my life. Now that is even more overwhelming to realize. Most trials eventually come to end, but I will bear this burden until I pass away... and, seeing how I'm only 25 years old, that's probably going to be a very, very long time from now; I'm thinking 60+ years. My brain can't fully comprehend how that's possible; to my feeble mortal mind, that's an incredibly long time to wait for a burden to be lifted. This next Monday, July 21, Carver would have been 3 months old (such a fun age!), and yet, it seems like I gave birth to him a lifetime ago. I have no idea how I'm going to live with this weight upon my shoulders each day and a part of me always missing, but hopefully, in time, I will figure it out.
I'm starting to learn that everyone grieves differently and no one can tell you how to grieve or when you should be finished. Also, no one can compare their grieving to your own, even if they have the best of intentions. Everyone handles their trials and burdens differently; even the death of a loved one cannot be compared to the death of someone else's loved one. Each situation is different and each person's relationship to their loved one is different. Someone recently told me that they "know how I feel" because their grandmother recently passed away. Please, don't say this to someone who just lost their child; the situations are entirely different. I know this individual had the best of intentions and was probably just trying to my empathetic, but it did more harm than help. My first thought was to ask if she carried her grandmother in her womb for 9 months and then gave birth to her... If you happen to be in a situation where someone just lost a loved one and you don't know what to say, simply say, "I'm so sorry for your loss." And, then, if you're comfortable with this next step, offer them a hug. Its as simple as that. People who are grieving simply need love and support -- don't feel like you need to have some magical words to make it all better; just love them.
Before losing Carver, I was like pretty much everyone else and I didn't know how to act or what to say around people who had lost a child. And, now that I know, I want to kick myself for not doing more or asking more or being there more. Everyone who loses a loved one (parent, child, friend, etc), wants to talk about it. They want to express their feelings, they want to hear their loved one's name, they want to share memories of this loved one, they just want you to show you care. Avoiding the topic because you don't want to make them feel uncomfortable is that last thing you should do. In the past few months I've heard people say "I don't want to intrude," "I don't want to make you uncomfortable," "I don't want to make you cry," and "I don't want to bother you." Please, please, please intrude! (Maybe that's the wrong word for this context...) Please, don't feel like you have to avoid the topic of my son. Please, say his name. I promise, asking how I'm feeling and asking to hear his story doesn't bother me at all! I want to share all these things will you. And, as funny as it may sound, crying is incredibly therapeutic. I always feel loads better after a good, long cry. Crying releases pent up emotions that are just waiting to find a way out. I can always tell when I haven't had a good cry for a few days, because I start to feel emotionally drained. If we cry while we're talking, its a good thing -- it means I'm about to feel better and more relaxed, at least for a period of time. Seriously, tears are good. Carver is just as much my child as Arlee. And, what parent doesn't like talking about their kids? :)
Another thing that's been hard for me is that many of those around me are already acting like nothing happened. Maybe is has to do with what I talked about in the paragraph right before this one; maybe it has to do with that fact that people's lives start to move on and the impact of this event starts to wear off (which is to be expected); or maybe it has to do with the notion that I'm "all better now." Yes, I'm back to my regular routine and I'm finding the strength to laugh and smile again, but that by no means implies that I'm "over" what happened. Carver is as much a part of my life as the weather -- sometimes there are good days, sometimes there are bad days, but I think about him everyday. I think about what it would be like to hold him again, sing him lullabies, smell the sweet aroma that all newborns have, watch him screech as I make him experience daily tummy time, tell his older sister 20 times a day that he's a baby and she has to be soft, and just experience life all over again with a newborn. Now that he would have been almost three months, I'm thinking about the milestones he'd be reaching like finding his feet for the first time and rolling over. Everyday I think about my little boy, and everyday I hope that someone will bring him up or simply ask how I'm doing.
Something else I've started struggling with is that I haven't "leveled up" in motherhood... let me explain. I feel like each time you go through a pregnancy and all the changes that happen to your body and all the emotional roller coasters and all the day dreaming and preparing and worrying and everything else, you finally end up with a precious little baby who makes all the craziness of the last 9 months worth it. You've now conquered yet another life milestone and you've "leveled up." (Maybe this is an awful analogy...) I've gone through 2 pregnancies with all the accompanied emotional roller coasters, day dreaming, preparing, worrying, and everything else involved with a pregnancy, but I only have one child to show for it. I feel like I haven't "leveled up," and maybe this is a mental battle more than anything else. When I look in the mirror, I see the mother of one adorable, happy, talkative, and spunky little girl. But, I wish with all my heart I could also see the mother of a precious little boy, who has his daddy's "elf" ears, and who's just starting to learn how to roll over and babble.
Its amazing to me how we continue to see little tender mercies and the hand of the Lord in our lives each day. Those times when I really feel unbearably alone, its almost as if I feel this little nudge of encouragement from beyond the veil. Again, I'm not really sure how to explain it. Its almost like Carver is saying, "Its okay, Mom. I love you. You can do this. We really aren't separated for that long." I've continued to feel so much love from my Savior. A quote from Elder Bowen's talk in the October 2012 General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, titled "Because I Live, Ye Shall Live Also," continues to stick with me. He says,
"...all that is unfair about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ." "Because I Live, Ye Shall Live Also", October 2012 General ConferenceI love that. All things can be made right through the Atonement. Not just some things or whatever is most convenient to the Lord, but all things. I feel like we mostly focus on how the Atonement heals us from our sins and transgressions, and makes us clean in the sight of the Lord, but the Atonement is also there to help us through our trials, give us strength when we feel as if we cannot possibly carry on, and enable us make it back to Him. Elder Bednar often speaks of the enabling power of the Atonement; in fact, in the October 2012 General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in a talked titled "In the Strength of the Lord," Elder Bednar shares some amazing insights and knowledge into the enabling power of the Atonement. (In the Strength of the Lord, October 2004 General Conference )
We've seen a number of other tender mercies occur in the past few months that didn't seem like a blessing "ahead of time" at the time, but have since proved to be. One such blessing is three free Stutterfly codes I received all at one time a few months ago. I know that may not seem like a blessing that could really have that much of an impact on me right now, but it has. Right after Carver passed away, I decided I wanted to make a book telling the story of his life, so his siblings could all know about their brother and his life and how he will always be a part of our family. I worked on this book for two months, and it was an extremely therapeutic project for me. The book arrived in the mail last month and it is precious beyond words. I'm able to perfectly tell Carver's story to anyone who asks, and Arlee loves looking at all the pictures of her little brother. I've since used the second code to make Arlee an ABC book with pictures of her and things that she loves, and the third code I'm using to make a book about Arlee and his best friend who is soon moving away. (Poor girl, she's gonna miss him so much.) Making these Shutterfly books has kept me occupied and my mind busy, which has been such a blessing as I try to process life right now. Shutterfly books can be expensive, but these codes have made all three books essentially free! Another blessing has been our next door neighbors. (Oops, I hope this doesn't embarrass them. ) Last summer new neighbors moved into the apartment to the right of us. They are some of the most tender-hearted and genuine people you'll ever meet. When I first told the wife about Carver's diagnosis, she cried with me and hugged me and we talked for a very long time. I really appreciated all her love and support. From that point on, she always asked how I was doing and told me they were keeping us in their prayers. Fast forward to the day we got home from the hospital without our precious little guy... They brought us dinner that night and asked to hear about Carver. Every time we see either of them, they ask how we're doing. I've laughed and cried with them and felt such support and love. My neighbors are a perfect example of Christ-like love, and we feel so blessed to live next door to them. It truly amazes me how the Lord brings people into your life exactly when you need them.
Arlee continues to be the greatest blessing I could ever ask for. My sweet mother-in-law made the comment a few months ago that before Arlee was born she and Carver were probably talking about who should join the family first. Carver probably said, "You should go down first, so you can be there to comfort Mom and Dad when I have to come back." Who knows if that actually happened, but I love the imagery. Arlee makes me smile every day. She has such a compassionate and loving spirit and really knows when I need a hug. She brings me her favorite toys or stuffed animals when I'm crying or having a rough time, and is learning to say "I love you, Mommy," which absolutely melts my heart. :) She talks almost nonstop all day long (she's definitely my daughter) and comes up with the funniest things. On those days when I just don't want to get out of bed in the morning and face the world, she motivates me to get up. She still needs to get out of bed, have her diaper changed, eat, play, go outside, and just experience life. If it wasn't for Arlee, I'm sure I'd spend most of my life curled up in bed watching Netflix and eating chocolate. I pray every day that she'll stay healthy and safe and can continue to be my little ray of sunshine each day. Arlee is my everything, and right now I owe a lot of my emotional and mental sanity her.
More than anything, I just want Carver's life to be acknowledged. He is a huge part of my life and always will be. He will always be my second born and my first son. No matter what's happening as the months and years go by, he will always be at the back of my mind. Each time we reach a new "first," I will think of him and my heart will break a little. This past week was Arlee's second birthday, and it would have been Carver's first birthday celebration. Even though I was beyond happy Arlee had turned two, it broke my heart that Carver wouldn't be there to celebrate with us -- there would be no baby to hold while we sang "Happy Birthday" and no baby to play with the wrapping paper that was littered across the floor. I'm sure this next year full of "firsts" will be a struggle.
Mommy misses you, Carver. I love you.
