That poem down there.

I want to explain the poem some. I got it in grief group. I identify with alot of it. I am angry and I am bitter. Johnathan was buried in his easter outfit and I didn’t expect to bury him in it when i bought it. And people just think that I am suppose to move on and that isn’t to happen. Yes, I’ll go on, I won’t move on. because he was/is my son. I will think about him every day of my life. I sacrafice so much for him while he was here, that when he left us, I felt that my life had no purpose. I was walking around not knowing how to fit back into my household. Unable to do such things as know if it was ok for my kids to go somewhere because new rules were established while I was away. To not knowing how to run my house because I hadn’t done it in 8 1/2 months. I am coming out of the fog. But, JT took a big chunk of my heart and my will to be the just go get em person that I used to be. I am working through that. I laugh, I love, I live, but, not the same way that I used to before he came along. I feel guilty, I feel peace, I feel, content in the decisions that I made. I long to hold him again, I probably always will. Some people won’t talk to me now or feel uncomfortable talking to me because of losing him. I am now the mother whose son died. I used to be the mother of the Lockwood girls. Now, I carry a different name. It is hard to live with knowing that when people see you they see a mother that lost a baby. Not a mother who had a son, who she loved. I am a constant reminder of the ugly that can happen in this world. Because we all know that isn’t supposed to happen. But, it does and it happened to me. I live with it everyday, I don’t expect everyone else to have to feel uncomfortable about talking to me or even looking at me because it happened. And I don’t like the feeling of is she or he looking at me and walking the other way because they are afraid I might mention the words dead baby??

Stacy will tell you until recently I will not bring up the subject except to her, or on my blog. Until recently part involves talking at the grief group. When I need to talk about Johnathan I usually go here and write about it or I go to her. She has my memories of him. She is someone that I talk with about him and I know I will never get the uncomfortable feeling of she doesn’t want to hear about him because I am his mother.

Last night I did say something inappropriate, I hope the lady didn’t catch it, but, she was making goody bags for the kids we went to a Fall Festival sponsored by a church. It was really nice, this being their first year doing it. Somethings didn’t get set up and such, but, we had fun. With our children. It was nice. But, we had the kids line up and she was making goody bags and it was Stacy’s two girls and 3 of mine and the lady said and she was really sounding kinda rude about it to me any way, “Doesn’t anyone make boys any more?” I said yeah, but, he didn’t last that long. Ok, rude of me I know but, she just kept on going and Stacy and I even think her hubby doodle jumped in and said oh yeah we have a boy he just went home. I know the lady was stressed because things didn’t go exactly how she wanted them to but, that is to be expected. She just hit a nerve with me. I think I might call her and let her know that it was my rudeness and I am sorry. Because I really need to watch what I say. Everyone around me knows sometimes I start spouting off things and well, sometimes my mouth works faster than my mind. That is something that I need to work on. I know it I recognize it and I think that I need to start making myself accountable for it.

But, that poem just had so many things in it that identify with. Yes, I do have other children at home, some would say alot too many, blah blah blah, but, my family will never be complete again because we have lost one. And we all know that and I am working on getting up where we need to be to heal. Some are harder than others but, as long as we are working on it and not ignoring it, I feel that we will go on. Go on knowing that he enriched our lives and taught us things that maybe we needed to be taught. Needed to learn about ourselves no matter how hard it was when he left us and went home. Sometimes I am mad not at him but at the situation that he left us in. All the love we feel for him has no place to go. He is not here to give it to. And that makes me sad. Well, enough of the down drearieness. I just wanted to explain why I felt the poem pertained to me and I have turned it into a book. For everyone that has made it this far. Thank you.

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A Poem

Here is a poem that I got from grief group. I absolutely love it. It is an angry poem but, it says what I feel. I did change the word daughter to son. but, that is all that has been changed.

THE UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS OF OTHERS

Damn Right I’m Bitter! Damn Right I’m Angry

I heard through the grape vine that you think I’m bitter!!
Damn Right I am bitter!
I heard that you wonder if I’m not “Stuck” in the angry stage of grief.
Damn right I’m angry!
It’s only been a few months. Who gave you the right to decide how long I should
grieve?

My beautiful son is dead.
Not out on a visit to Grandma’s
Not off to school for a day.
DEAD.

I didn’t pick out his Easter outfit with the intention of burying him in it.
I didn’t bathe his little body and brush his hair knowing it was to be
my last chance to touch his warmth, never imagining the next
touch would be of a cold, hard, unmoving little boy.

Damn right i’m bitter!
Damn right I’m angry!

You have no right to judge me
Believe me, you have no idea of what I’m trying to live through.
If I make you incomforatagble, believe me, you return the feeling.
You go home to your healthy, living children and wonder how I can
act this way.
You go home to your normal life, while I go home to face a live
without my son.
The rug has been jerked out from under me
My network of faith, of religion, seems to have collapsed under me,
with no safety net.
I am fumbling in a foreign life, grasping for something that will help
this make sense.

You leave our meeting, rushing to take your children from the
nursery to playschool.
You talk about the about he hassle of finding time to get your kids’ Christmas
outfits bought, their Christmas pictures taken, the expense of gifts.
I leave empty-armed, no hassles for me, except to return to my quiet
empty home….alone.
No gift expenses for me, except funereal and the pruchase of a plot of
ground to place my baby in.
No big Christmas outfit decisions, only decisions for the heastone that
is supposed to express out love for our dead son.

So….you think I’m bitter?
You think I’m angry?
Damn right I’m bitter!
Damn right I’m angry!

Who Better?

Mary Von Bockem, whose daughter Catie, died at age three. 1966

Feeling, nothing more than feelings.

Do you remember that song? I have absolutely no idea who sings it but, it was stuck in my head. la la la.
For the past few days I have been so sick, I don’t know whether I am coming or going. My almost youngest Stacey woke up with a really high temp and she slept till about 1:00. I kept checking on her. She was still breathing, so all was good.

But, anyhoo, I am writing a book. Been working on it for a while. I was just writing about JT’s NEC (Necrotizing Entercolitis), surgery. Man, Oh man does that bring back such deep emotions. I felt terrified writing about it even though I know he came through it like a champ. Just like he did everything he did. But, my stomach is all crampy and just thinking about it made my heart skip a beat or two. And I even had some anger because of the doctor tell me my choices. We could do something about it or we could just let nature take it’s course. Like I wouldn’t give him every chance available. Boy oh Boy let me tell you I was really angry at that doc. But, he had to let me know my choices. I do believe I asked him if he was out of his mind. I was really scared at moving him to children’s because we started out in Miami Valley. I know someone at church that works at children’s and at the time she told me that he was better off at Miami Valley because they could do better things with babies as small as he was. But, I found out they are absolutely fantabulous with babies any size. But, you know people have their opinions and well, sometimes they can scare the beegees out of some one. But, anyway, I wouldn’t trade my time at Dayton Children’s for anything. It was a blessing that we were moved there.

Wednesday was our last grief group. Mary Ann and Charlotte both told me that everyone said hi from up there and that they had heard many stories of JT and all his antics. I really felt sad that it was over. We laughed so hard that last session. Can you imagine laughing at grief group???? Yeah, I felt the same why. How in the same hill do you laugh at grief group?? Well, we shared some really funny stories or, should I say that one of the participants did and had me laughing so hard I was crying. It felt really good to laugh like that. I haven’t done it in a while.

I still won’t go up to the 4th floor. My counselor told me that when I could go up there that would mean that I was healing. I don’t believe her. I don’t cry in front of people very well. But, she also said not to expect to go up there with out crying. blah, blah, blah, at this point. I heard her but, I am filing it away at the moment.

Ok, I am a skipper of subjects sometimes I write like I talk. I go here and there and back to here. Sorry.

The cookie dough sale at school kicked off today. Oohhh la la. I really dont’ feel like dealing with it, but I am. I got stuff done. Oh yeah, it is done for today. I imagine Monday is going to be bad because everyone and their great grandma is going to be sending in permission slips. I really don’t like that part. Running here running there. Making sure I have the list upto date. Not much fun. But, as with anything, I’ll get through it. lol.

Well, there is my lengthy somewhat jumbled all over the place update on what I have been doing.