On Answering Stupid Questions

I'm not gonna lie; I'm feeling a little bit indignant today.  So hold on.  

Recently, it came to my attention that a friend of ours had asked, on several occasions, why, now that I had Aden, I couldn't get over losing Owen.  So.  Here you go "friend."  To help you understand. 

1.  Because people aren't replaceable.

2.  There isn't an age when your child suddenly becomes worth more.  Before they're born.  The day they're born, the day they go to kindergarten or college- that's your kid.  100% your kid.  It's not a 401k, it doesn't increase (or decrease) in value over time.  It just is.  

3.  Because I don't f&*$&! want to.  Yeah, I said it.  I am actually quite happy with my life currently, don't mistake that for meaning that I want to be in stage 1 of my grief forever.  But I DON'T WANT TO get over my son dying like it didn't happen.  It did.  I lived it, not you.  It's mine to own and do with what I feel is right.  And it's not your job, or anyone's job to decide that I'm not doing my journey of my own life the right way.  

I have never, do not, will never apologize to anyone for how I have handled, am handling, will handle the loss of my son because it's not anyone else's to live.  I've walked away from plenty of people because they couldn't "deal with" how I dealt with my traumatic and life changing event.  Must have been super difficult for them. If I make you uncomfortable because I brought up my kid in conversation?  Don't talk to me anymore.  Block me, unfollow me, delete me; I could not give less of a shit.  Honestly.  If I'm doing this particular life one time, then I don't want your pretentious, judgmental, hateful energy anywhere near me anyway.  

That feels better.  Back to your regular scheduled programming in 3...2...1...

A New Day Without New Words

It has been a long time since I had a night like tonight.  A night where tears came without holding back, and I was able to really step back and look at where I've been.  In short, it has been a long #^$&(#$ road.  There is some part of me that appreciates the wave of grief I weathered tonight because it means Owen is still so present in my heart.  He was here and he is mine.  These words I've spoken and thought and written hundreds of times are still what goes through my mind when I think of him.  I pass by his photos on my wall every day.  He was real and he is mine.  There are few people who know where I've been and truly understand the kind of living hell I existed in for many years.  My husband existed right along with me for a long time.  I am thankful that we survived together, and that we have become new people together.  We have this love for two perfect little boys.  It's not fair that we don't get to know them both in the same way.  It's not fair that Owen never got to go outside, to have a birthday, to ride in a batmobile.  It's just not.  I don't get to know what kind of lunchbox and backpack he would have chosen for Kindergarten this year.  I should have an almost first grader!  The thought is achingly impossible to imagine.  And it's not fair.  And yet, I find happiness here too.  There is happiness in the shrieks and giggles from my little rainbow.  There is happiness in the fact that when he's asleep, I can see Owen's face in his, and I can imagine for a moment that I have a glimpse into a life I didn't get to live.

Tonight I feel humbled at the ability my heart has to bring me to my knees as though this loss were fresh.  I am humbled by my own human will to survive and to find meaning in my life past the day my world stopped.  I am humbled by the honor and privilege I have to be a mother to two perfect little boys.  There is no "reason" for the loss of my son.  There is no greater purpose for his death, there is no truth to a cliched line about heaven needing another angel.  But he is supposed to be mine.  Whether he's here or in my heart, I was supposed to be his mother.  For that, I am grateful.  For the fact that he fought to be here, I am grateful.  For what I have learned from him, I am grateful.

I titled this post the way I did because I do not have any new enlightening insight into my situation.  I do not have anything particularly inspiring or amazing to say.  I just needed to think about my boy tonight and really feel his absence for a little while. My Owen, my little fox, I love you <3 .="" nbsp="" p="">