You. Yes, you.
Don’t be afraid to talk about my children – all of them. Every time you say my son’s name confirms that he was here, he existed. As his mother, he is a constant presence in my mind. Sometimes it all feels like a dream, especially as time increases the distance between me and him. I can’t explain the relief when I get the OK to talk about him out loud with you. Even for just a minute. My boy was here, and I’m not the only one who remembers him.
When you tell me that you thought of him, my heart warms. Something as simple as a text message or an e-mail can brighten my day. Someone else thought of my baby today, and I have proof. My boy is loved, and not just by me.
If you want to do something more than a message, that’s great! Any act of kindness done because of my baby is special. Whether it’s something I’ve asked for in the past or something you’ve come up with on your own – it doesn’t matter. My boy makes a difference, and not just because of me.
Things have changed from the first few days, weeks, and months since my child died. I don’t need much help with day-to-day existence anymore. That said, I am keenly aware just how little it would take to send me back to that place. And there are some days when I just can’t engage beyond the bare minimum.
I may seem like I’m doing OK, but I am still profoundly broken. I’m still a mom whose baby died. I’m still the mom who cries more easily than before, who has lost whole aspects of her personality from before. I’m still grieving.
Even if I can’t ask you directly, your support means a lot to me. Please don’t stop now.