Sorting Through My Emotions

Emotions can be confusing. My husband says it's impossible to feel both sad and happy at the same moment. I beg to differ. In 23 days, we will celebrate the day our son would have turned 3. As in the past, we will spend this day celebrating his life, honoring his memory, thanking God for the time we got to spend with him, and looking forward to our permanent reunion. I'm not sure how I will feel on his actual birthday -- I think sometimes I do better on special days because I am able to brace myself for the emotional affront. All I know is that right now it is hard for me to think about it. I want to do something nice, because he is a part of our family, and I want our other children to know how grateful we are for their older brother. We want him to be a part of their lives, even if he isn't here with us now.

I've identified my main coping mechanism: I think of Riley as a missionary in the spirit world. That way I can almost think that our family has always been this way. Perhaps it's not the best way to deal with things, but it's how I am able to function, and how I can be a better mother to the children who depend on me right now. So the hardest times for me are when I have to acknowledge that he really was here, and that I once had many hopes and expectations for his life on earth. Things like birthdays force me to think about all of that and it can prove very emotionally taxing for me.

As if that weren't enough to send me on an emotional roller coaster, in 29 days, we will welcome our second daughter into the world (one of the perks of a planned c-section is being able to plan for things like that). Bringing another child into our family has been a very emotional, faith-trying experience for us. As with my last pregnancy, I feel guilty that the feelings of joy over our new child are accompanied by the pain and sorrow of missing our son. My excitement and anticipation about meeting my new little girl are accompanied by fear and dread concerning her safety. Many of these feelings have not been as sharp as they were last time, because I have been busy being a full-time mother. But when I lay awake at night or catch a quiet moment to think about things, all these emotions start flooding my body. I feel like I subconsciously tune out all these feelings as a type of self-preservation, but I'm going to have to face them sooner or later. I'm afraid it won't hit me until I'm in the hospital, holding my baby, and it will all just come crashing down on my head. I really am excited to meet my baby girl, but I'm also so, so scared.

I know things would be hard regardless of when the baby was born, but it makes it even harder that her birthday will be within a week of Riley's. It's just so hard to celebrate when you are grieving. Like Jeffrey's birthday being only two days before Riley's angelversary. It all makes for an even more drastic ride along the spectrum of emotions. Perhaps I am able to feel opposing emotions simultaneously because I must. I will grieve because I am separated from my son, but I will rejoice because our eternal family will be growing.

A Long Overdue Return

Well, it's been almost a year since I last updated. I don't know if anything I say helps anybody, but on the chance that it does, I feel I should continue to share my thoughts and experiences.

There are so many things to write about. Where do I start? Last week my heart broke when I found out my friend was admitted to the hospital two months early and their little boy didn't make it. While I have grown to accept my role as the mother of an angel baby, and while I think that makes me a better, stronger person today, it is not something I would ever want anybody else to have to go through. The circumstances may have been different, but I understood the feelings of loss, grief, despair, and anguish; the hopes and dreams that won't be fulfilled; the overwhelming emptiness where your child should be. I felt her pain as the memories of my own echoed through my heart -- wounds now eased, but never completely healed. But despite my understanding and genuine empathy, I could do nothing to lessen her pain or ease her burden. It frustrated me. So I decided to share some thoughts on here. Maybe it will help her. Maybe it will help somebody else. I don't know. But at least I will know that I did what I could.

There is nothing anyone can say that will ease the initial grief of a bereaved parent. But for me, knowing that people wanted to, that was enough for me to feel their love and support. The only thing that got us through our despair was our testimony of the Atonement, our trust in God, and our faith in the promised blessings of an eternal family. But even this could not take away our pain, only give us the strength to endure it. And that is what we did. One day at a time -- some days worse, some days better. Even now, two and a half years later, our lives have moved forward, but there are still moments and days where I just have to focus on getting through the end of the day.

I know how easily somebody's pain can turn to anger. I understand how people can blame God and turn away from Him. But if ever there was a time to rely on Him, it is when you experience such life-altering, heart-shattering grief. We are not here to lead a life free from all trial and heartache. There are times when He will not take away our burdens. Rather, He will give us the strength to endure them. Through Him, we have the promise of not only being reunited with our beloved child, but of never losing them again. How can anyone ever expect to feel joy if they abandon their hope in that promise? I know there have been days where that promise is all that got my through.

I know how hard it is to keep an eternal perspective when the pain is so overwhelming, but the more you can do it, the more your heart can be healed. Young children who pass away before the age of accountability are automatically guaranteed a place in the celestial kingdom. They will have the opportunity to find a righteous companion and be sealed to them. Of all the hopes and dreams we could have for our children, are any greater than this? They will be able to experience every good thing, without the sorrows of this world. I know it's hard to think that way, because this is the only world we know. But our sweet angel children will not be denied any blessing or opportunity we could wish for them. It will just be on a different timetable.

Every day, I am grateful for my son. Knowing that his exaltation is ensured helps me strive that much more to be worthy of celestial glory. Death may have separated us for the time being, but I know that if I continue to trust in God and live up to my covenants, no power can break the eternal ties between me and my sweet Riley.