It's posted in grief and loss, so I think it goes without saying, but just in case *triggers*.
No matter how many cloth diapers you use, no matter how long you breastfeed, no matter how little sunscreen you put on your kid, our actions can only keep us so safe.
It's been repeating in my head over and over again for 2 months: Why didn't I know? How did I not hear? How did I not feel it in my body?
I remember reading something about how when you sleep close to your kids, your heart regulates to theirs and if your child stops breathing in the middle of the night: BAM- you'd wake up. You'd know, your his mother. You have a connection, of course you would "feel" it.
Not true. Bullshit.
Was it the two beers I had at dinner the 4 hours before we all went to bed? Was it the bugspray we used the morning before when the campsite was ridden with mosquitoes? Was it because I had strep b and didnt get enough antibiotics? Was it because I took antibiotics? Was it because of how much time he had spent in his carseat that day because we were traveling? Was it because of the tent, even though we had the moonroof off because I was paranoid about carbon monoxide poisoning? Was it something I ate? Was it all the diet cokes I drank? Was it because I had mentioned in passing to a friend that you can't live in fear that your child is going to die, you've got to give yourself a break every now and again? Was it because I was so cavalier about my parenting that I needed to be taught a lesson? Was it the one vaccine he had? Was it his little cold from last week?
No, no, no, no,no, no,no, and no the autopsy report and coroner assure me. No, it was nothing you did. You couldn't have done anything to assure he would live. Some babies just stop breathing. No reasons at all.
I remember when a friend of my MIL's lost her grandson to SIDS (but what was later found to be pneumonia) while napping in a carseat. My heart broke for them, we had children almost exactly the same age. DH and I can recall exactly what we said when we found out, "I wonder if they breastfed." "I wonder if they were in the same room", "babies shouldnt nap in carseats- that's dangerous", I wonder if he was vaccinated", "I wonder if they smoked or drank.", I wonder, wonder, wonder....
You know, code for "Oh, we do things the right way so this will never happen to us"
And we've all thought it, especially as new parents. Thought that the way we are choosing to parent somehow keeps our children safe, or makes us better parents, or lowers our risks for this or that. And to some extent, it does. To some extent.
But you can wake up in the morning to your worst nightmare coming true. Everything you've ever been anxious about crashing down all at once. The ultimate feeling of failure, and like you have killed your baby because surely, surely, there was something you could have done differently that would have saved his life. I know there wasnt. I know it in my heart, but my brain races so fast trying to think of all the missteps of the days leading up to Charlie's death. And the day goes by in my head over and over again. And none of the attachment parenting I did kept him alive. It's so hard to go back to thinking any of it matters anymore. So hard to care about any of the things I'm supposed to believe in, because no matter what I can't babywear him back to life. I can't assure that this next baby stays alive by breastmilk, cloth diapers, and avoiding dairy. I can't guarantee that something wont happen to DD because I practice gentle discipline or because she eats all organic food. It doesnt work that way. Sometimes, you are dealt the worst hand regardless of how safe you tried to keep them, or how much you tried to do everything "right". So what is the point of all this work if you can't guarantee anything- can't even guarantee that things will be the same in the morning as they are when I go to bed at night?
Don't worry about saying the wrong thing. There is no right thing to say anymore. No right way of doing things. No right way to live. Nothing is right with the world.
No matter how many cloth diapers you use, no matter how long you breastfeed, no matter how little sunscreen you put on your kid, our actions can only keep us so safe.
It's been repeating in my head over and over again for 2 months: Why didn't I know? How did I not hear? How did I not feel it in my body?
I remember reading something about how when you sleep close to your kids, your heart regulates to theirs and if your child stops breathing in the middle of the night: BAM- you'd wake up. You'd know, your his mother. You have a connection, of course you would "feel" it.
Not true. Bullshit.
Was it the two beers I had at dinner the 4 hours before we all went to bed? Was it the bugspray we used the morning before when the campsite was ridden with mosquitoes? Was it because I had strep b and didnt get enough antibiotics? Was it because I took antibiotics? Was it because of how much time he had spent in his carseat that day because we were traveling? Was it because of the tent, even though we had the moonroof off because I was paranoid about carbon monoxide poisoning? Was it something I ate? Was it all the diet cokes I drank? Was it because I had mentioned in passing to a friend that you can't live in fear that your child is going to die, you've got to give yourself a break every now and again? Was it because I was so cavalier about my parenting that I needed to be taught a lesson? Was it the one vaccine he had? Was it his little cold from last week?
No, no, no, no,no, no,no, and no the autopsy report and coroner assure me. No, it was nothing you did. You couldn't have done anything to assure he would live. Some babies just stop breathing. No reasons at all.
I remember when a friend of my MIL's lost her grandson to SIDS (but what was later found to be pneumonia) while napping in a carseat. My heart broke for them, we had children almost exactly the same age. DH and I can recall exactly what we said when we found out, "I wonder if they breastfed." "I wonder if they were in the same room", "babies shouldnt nap in carseats- that's dangerous", I wonder if he was vaccinated", "I wonder if they smoked or drank.", I wonder, wonder, wonder....
You know, code for "Oh, we do things the right way so this will never happen to us"
And we've all thought it, especially as new parents. Thought that the way we are choosing to parent somehow keeps our children safe, or makes us better parents, or lowers our risks for this or that. And to some extent, it does. To some extent.
But you can wake up in the morning to your worst nightmare coming true. Everything you've ever been anxious about crashing down all at once. The ultimate feeling of failure, and like you have killed your baby because surely, surely, there was something you could have done differently that would have saved his life. I know there wasnt. I know it in my heart, but my brain races so fast trying to think of all the missteps of the days leading up to Charlie's death. And the day goes by in my head over and over again. And none of the attachment parenting I did kept him alive. It's so hard to go back to thinking any of it matters anymore. So hard to care about any of the things I'm supposed to believe in, because no matter what I can't babywear him back to life. I can't assure that this next baby stays alive by breastmilk, cloth diapers, and avoiding dairy. I can't guarantee that something wont happen to DD because I practice gentle discipline or because she eats all organic food. It doesnt work that way. Sometimes, you are dealt the worst hand regardless of how safe you tried to keep them, or how much you tried to do everything "right". So what is the point of all this work if you can't guarantee anything- can't even guarantee that things will be the same in the morning as they are when I go to bed at night?
Don't worry about saying the wrong thing. There is no right thing to say anymore. No right way of doing things. No right way to live. Nothing is right with the world.
I wish I could be there to wrap my real, physical arms around you while you just fall apart. My heart is aching and breaking for you. I think about you every day.
Hugs Mama!
I've been reading your blog. I am so, so sorry. I know every loss is different for everyone, but I can. not. imagine losing my 2 year old. Charlie was hard, but gosh, Adaline has so much personality, favorite toys, and so so many memories. I think it would be so much harder for me. I have stopped seeing the therapist. I'm writing, and that is helping a lot. Also, life has gotten really busy and I'm expecting again so things are just moving so fast. I still miss him so, so much but my life is moving forward.
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