Not So Simple Anymore

When I became a mom for the first time, I was often asked, "How many kids do you have?" That was an easy answer. One. It was a simple word and I said it with excitement. Soon, the number changed to two. I was just as eager to answer the question with "two" as "one". After 19 months, that number changed again, but not really. I still was the mother of two, but one was on earth and one was in heaven. I began to dread the question. Not because I was not still a proud mother, but because the answer now was complicated and needed explained. I found myself answering like this, "Two, one living." Then it was followed by the sad head tip and, "ahhhh." More questions came, "How old was he?", "How did he die?", "How long ago?" etc... I really don’t know that all that information was needed for such a simple question. I know I didn’t like sharing such sensitive stuff with people in passing. The question is answered similarly today. "I have 6 kids." Sometimes I have to add, "five living." I still have to answer subsequent questions and often comfort those who are asking them.

In the time shortly after Isaac died some of the things we said without thought changed. We no longer said that the batteries died. That word had far too deep of a meaning to be used for batteries. So, the batteries stopped working, the plants were drying out, and the pen ran out of ink.

When Brad was three or four, we visited a cemetery. I remember Brad walking around, pausing at each headstone, and asking, "Who was this person?" I do not know any other child who realizes what a cemetery really is. He knew that each of those markers represented a life, a person, someone who was loved.

Today I went into the storage room. I noticed a "hammock swing" that I had made just for Isaac. I have saved it all these years and it has not been used. I kept hanging onto it. Today I came to terms with the fact that I do not need it anymore! Today, almost 7 years later. It still smelled like him. That is just one item. Also, today, I dressed James in some of Isaac’s overalls I had saved all these years. I think he is the first boy after Isaac to wear them. It took some courage to put them on him, but then he looked so cute and I felt glad inside.

I still have the feeling that I am missing someone. When I am counting kids at the park or gathering the kids to get into the car, I think, "There’s one more. I’m missing someone." I re-count and see that we are all there. That happens to me a lot.

After Isaac died my life was filled with new fears. Some made sense to a logical mind, but some did not. I wanted to keep Brad and Brian with me at all times. I felt if someone needed to die, that we should all go together. It is too hard to be separated. I was (and still am) nervous when my kids are sleeping, especially when they are tiny, around 19 months old, or it is cold and wintery. I was very fearful to have another child. (complete understatement) I knew the reality of having a handicapped child. I also knew that it could happen to me. It had happened to me. I don’t think there are words to describe this. I know as mothers we always worry that we might have a sick child, but for me it was real. I knew I could have a sick child. I was also terrified of connecting with another baby, just to loose them again. My heart couldn’t handle it. I knew my child could die. My child had died and it hurt beyond words. These fears were intense and real. I know they have not gone completely away.  Some things are not so simple anymore.

{This morning marks 7 years since Isaac died.  Our kids were checked several times while sleeping last night by me and by my husband.  Not just a "peek" in on them. We all woke up alive!  It is a new day.}