One Mom’s Struggle With Moving Forward After The Loss Of Her Child

467231501The very first time my world came crashing down was on January 9, 1999.  On that day, my mother, my best friend, succumbed to cancer after a long battle. Although her death was expected, it was tragic nonetheless. I was grateful that she would no longer suffer but selfishly wanted her still with us. During the course of her illness, I started developing my own health anxiety. One day I was convinced I had cancer myself, another day I thought I was going to have a heart attack. There was really no rhyme or reason for any of my recurrent ailments, but it was very obvious that my mother’s illness had taken a toll on me. I obsessed about every symptom I had. I was positive that it was going to happen to me one day.

With the help of talk therapy and a very loving and supportive husband, I began to work on my issues. It wasn’t easy. I desperately wanted to start a family of my own but was unsure of whether I would be a good enough mom. I wanted a stable career and a nice little home. Most of all, I wanted to be as perfect as my mother.

Nine years later, on New Year’s Day of 2008, I awoke to a feeling of being bloated and unwell.  I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. After tears of joy and a little bit of shock, my husband and I settled in to this wonderful news. We were going to be parents. For the first few months of my pregnancy, I let my anxiety go. I felt my mother with me. She had a hand in this and would continue to bless me on my way to this wonderful journey called motherhood.

When my husband and I first entered the room for our Anatomy Scan, everything couldn’t have looked brighter. At just over twenty weeks pregnant, I was going to find out the gender of my baby. Although I strongly suspected boy, I couldn’t wait for that final confirmation. We left finding out that our baby was indeed a boy. We also left finding out that he had a very serious heart defect called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. The left side of his heart was severely underdeveloped.

In spite of this news, we continued on with the pregnancy. We saw some of the best specialists. We opted for a serious of three heart surgeries, all of which would be performed within the first three years of his life. We were terrified, but we were also very excited to meet this little man.

On September 8, 2008, Liam Jude entered the world. Beautiful and amazing, he would be having his first heart surgery at only a few days old.  After a couple of rough days, Liam was making wonderful progress. Eight days later, the nurse told me I would be taking him home soon. We went home that night feeling scared but very grateful.  That same night we received a phone call that would cause my world to come crashing down for the second time. Liam wasn’t doing well and we needed to be at the hospital right away. He died before we even got there.

This tremendous loss, once again, took a dreadful toll on me. Horribly depressed, I continued along a path that I started after my mother’s loss. I felt as if I would not be able to go on.

Five plus years and two beautiful children later, it is quite evident that I did go on. However, as much as I love my children, there will always be a piece of our family missing. The firstborn boy that we didn’t get to see grow up. The older brother that my children would never have. I was also constantly worried that my happiness would be taken away from me just as quickly as my children arrived. It always seemed to happen that way for me; experiencing happiness then only to have it disappear.

Often times, I envied my fellow mothers. The ones that didn’t have to bury their own child. The ones that didn’t have to carry the burden of that loss. Because of my tragedy, I was never quite able to relax. I was frequently anxious and worried. What if something bad happened again? My thoughts were often obsessive.  I felt a huge separation between other mother’s and myself. They didn’t have to worry about such things. They could just go about enjoying their children.

Last year, in one of my online mom groups, a question was posed about mommy anxiety. Anxiety continued to be a huge issue for me. I felt as if I was suffering alone. When other moms started posting one after the other, I stared at the computer screen in utter disbelief. So many of us sharing the exact same fears. Of children getting sick. Of losing a spouse. Of their very own mortality. One mom described it as fearing more now because we have much more to lose. I completely understood. For the first time in many years, I felt a strong connection. I suddenly didn’t feel that alone. We were all one of the same. We were mother’s that each had our own story. We had all faced our own personal tragedies and loss. And yet, we are continuing on. Somehow.

It hasn’t been easy. I do wonder how this whole mommy thing has become a competitive sport of sorts. Breastfeeding vs. not breastfeeding. Working moms vs. stay at home moms. Most of the time, these arguments serve no useful purpose. We should be concentrating on supporting each other instead.

Just recently, I made a promise to myself that I would at least try to live and savor each moment. The simple, yet special moments. I am doing my best to put all the ”what ifs” aside and to enjoy all that I have right now. My anxious personality has made it a constant battle, but I won’t give up. With the misery of the long winter season, I challenged myself to just enjoy the long cuddles and the love that they give me. We also laugh a lot. It is a therapeutic and is helping me to change my past way of negative thinking. In hard times, I tell myself that ”this too shall pass.” I feel as if I owe it to my children to do so.

The other night, as my daughter was ready to fall asleep on my lap, I looked around at the toys that needed to be picked up. Dishes were still in the sink. I knew I couldn’t stay on the couch much longer. I was just about to get up when I heard those words. My little Julia whispered, ”I love you Mommy.” I didn’t know what it was exactly about hearing them that had me burst into tears. But, it made me stay right there where I was. In fact, I didn’t move for another hour or so. Nothing else seemed to matter. I would enjoy this time along with the others. They were fleeting moments. Each day is a precious gift, and I tell myself. I will continue to live. One wonderful day at a time.

(Image: getty images)

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