The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly; My Life as a Bereaved Mother

Today, May 7, 2017, is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. It’s certainly not a day of celebration but more a day of remembrance.  I wish no mother had to even be aware that this day existed.

This blog is based on only my experiences and feelings.  I cannot speak for any other bereaved mother.  All our situations are different.

 My journey as a bereaved mother began two years, 7 months and 2 days ago.  My life has not been nor will it ever be the same again.  Here are the good, the bad, and the ugly of my life as a grieving mother. 

Prior to Sept. 5, 2014, I had the world by the tail.  I had a job that I loved, a loving family, two successful and talented children, a wonderful life.  The year, 2014, started out great.  I had been chosen to be a presenter at the National Science Teacher’s Convention in Boston.  What an honor!  Seeing my name on the program with the likes of Bill Nye, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and Mayim Bialik was a dream come true.  The school year went well and when the school term was over we went on vacation to the Texas Gulf Coast. It was a fun filled trip spent with family. Following vacation, I attended Honeywell’s Green Boot Camp for teachers in San Diego.  I was one of 70 teachers worldwide chosen to attend this prestigious camp.  I was on top of the world.  I am glad that I couldn’t see what was looming just a few short weeks in the future.  Ryan and my cousin, Wayne, came down to San Diego from Los Angeles to visit me while I was attending the camp.  This trip was the last time that I spent with Ryan and the last picture of us together was taken.  Looking back, I can see how ill Ryan looked.  He was gaunt and his color was bad.  I have beaten myself up so much for not insisting that he get some tests run right away.  But I didn’t and I can’t change the outcome.  In grief counseling the question typically comes up; “Do you feel guilty?” or “Would you have changed something?”  Yes to both.  I have to live with that.

When you lose a child you lose part of yourself physically, mentally, and emotionally.  Physically; I have read that part of a child’s DNA remains in the mother after she gives birth.  This is an explanation for why there is so much physical pain involved in child loss.  I’m not sure about the DNA research on this, but I do know that it physically ages you – and fast.  I no longer recognize the face in the mirror.

Mentally; I don’t even know where to start here.  Unless you have been through it, it’s hard to put into words.  You can’t think, you say the wrong things…you think you are losing your mind.

Emotionally; you can laugh but maybe a second later you cry.  You live with panic attacks.  Waking up every morning and realizing that your child is gone is a feeling of sheer terror.  Imagine the feeling that you get when you have a near miss car accident – that’s how losing a child feels – twenty-four seven.

 Even though grief is exhausting, there is no rest for me. I am always tired but sleep doesn’t come.  I wander around the house in the middle of the night.  I move from the bed to the couch to the computer desk and back again.  My body is programmed to wake at 3:48 A.M.  That is the time that I received the call that Ryan was critically ill and that I must come to Los Angeles right away.  From that instant on my life changed.  I dislike Fridays and I dislike the 5^th of each month. 

For the longest time, I could not bear to listen to music. Ryan was a musician and our life was always filled with music.  It was months before I could stand to hear music.  Ryan was a big fan of Sam Cook and many of The Voice contestants choose Sam Cook songs.  I can hit mute on a remote in a split second.  I have always been a fitness enthusiast – every day since my youth I have worked out. After Ryan passed away I just stopped and let myself go.  I just didn’t have the motivation to do it.  As time went by something inside me pushed me to put the workout videos back in but I muted the sound or I ran without listening to music.  I can listen to music now, but not in large doses.

I get angry at people.  I have no tolerance for people who complain about things that seem inconsequential.  I just want to shake them.  So, what if your (insert whatever you want here) isn’t working or going well.  My child is dead and I don’t have the patience to listen to your whining.  

I get frustrated at people thinking that I need to stay busy and giving me tasks and responsibilities.  I am getting good at saying no.  I have said no a few times that have gotten me into trouble at school.  At one time, I would have apologized profusely and completed the assigned task.  Now I don’t even care.  Because of I this I realized that the time has come for me to retire.  I can no longer feel excitement about fun lesson plans, field trips, dances, activities.  My work is not up to par and I know it. 

Then there is the constant worry.  I live in fear that something will happen to Misty and the grandkids.  How could I go on?  I don’t think I could.

I have endured the rumors and nosiness.  I can only speak for myself but I don’t like to be asked about Ryan’s death or cause of.  That is so personal and I am shocked when asked about it.  I understand that some are concerned but there are those who Misty refers to as the Lookie-Loos. They seem to thrive on other’s pain.  I try to steer clear of them but some find a way to corner you.

Then there are the platitudes.  Again, this is only my view point.  I don’t want to hear; “God needed another angel,” or “He’s in a better place now.”  I want my child here – where I can see him, touch him, smell him, hear his voice…those rainbows, clouds, feathers or cardinals are nice and make me temporarily feel better, but they are not him.

I have been through grief counseling and grief support – both faith based and non-faith based.  Everyone has their own idea about what follows death.  Counseling and support have saved me from insanity and I would encourage anyone, no matter how long it’s been since your loss to find and attend a support group.

I have given you the bad and the ugly.  “Where’s the good?” you ask.  In the months following Ryan’s death I have met so many kind moms that have lost children.  We are a battered and bruised group but we lean on each other and when one of us can’t walk the other moms carry us.  I have never met most of these moms face to face but thanks to social media we interact daily.  Just knowing they are there makes a big difference in my life. 

Ryan’s friends have reached out to Misty and me and allowed us into their lives.  They could have easily turned away but instead they have pulled us closer.  We’ve renewed old friendships from Ryan’s high school and college days and gotten to know Ryan’s friends from Los Angeles.  They treat us like family and we appreciate that.

I want to leave you with this; there is something that, I believe, most bereaved parents want – that their child is never forgotten.  You can talk to us about them, say their name, share a memory, or show us a picture of our child that we’ve never seen (or even if we have we will love seeing it again).  Please don’t not talk about them because you think it will upset us. It upsets us more if you don’t.  One of Ryan’s friends, Alxis, totally gets this.  She has done little things that mean so much to Misty and me.  She wore a Magic Trash (the name of her husband and Ryan’s band) pin to the Grammys to honor Ryan.  There on her beautiful dress was this tiny pin that maybe only Misty and I noticed but it was HUGE for us.  She and her husband traveled to Africa on their honeymoon and they took one of Ryan’s harmonicas to give to a young boy there.  I cried buckets of tears just knowing that the boy would make beautiful music with that harmonica.  These are the good things.