There are no words that can express how I've been feeling lately. It has been almost 12 years since I last held my baby boy:_( Twelve years! Everybody is talking about how their kids are finishing up the school year and all of the accomplishments. I'm happy for them, and at the same time I'm REALLY sad for myself and for my kids. They have been cheated out of having a big brother here to play with them and protect them.
I have this emptiness and this ache that I just can't make go away. And I am constantly seeing new parents that are having to endure this pain. WHY?!?! When will it end? Why must we suffer like this? It breaks my heart all over again to see/hear about the pain they are going through. The helplessness is the worst feeling ever! To know that there is nothing that can be said or done to make the pain and emptiness go away can be even more upsetting.
I know I have to get up every day and that I have other children who depend on me now, but somedays I just can't do it. I don't want them to see me like this, but unfortunately this is who I am. And they need to know that it's ok to cry and it's ok to be upset about our loss. Even though they never "met" him they KNOW him! He is a part of our family and I will make sure he always is.
I miss you my sweet baby boy!!!!!! <3
<3 Mommy <3
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
What is normal?
What is normal?
Authors Unknown
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th, and Easter.
Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.
Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming because you just don't like to sit through anything.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what-ifs and why didn't Is go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise because the silence is deafening.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it because it will never happen.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday commonplace activity and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fits the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really...
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my baby loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss unless they have lost a child. NOTHING, even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you-it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is taking pills and trying not to cry all day because I know my mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone but someone stricken with grief over the loss of a child.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.
Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands, and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry, or if there is any food.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have three children or two, because you will never see this person again and it's not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have two children to avoid that problem you feel horrible, as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King play grounds because of small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.
Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours, and asking if there even is a God.
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss in a day or a million years.
And last of all normal is hiding all of the things that have become "normal" for you to feel so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
Authors Unknown
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th, and Easter.
Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.
Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming because you just don't like to sit through anything.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what-ifs and why didn't Is go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise because the silence is deafening.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it because it will never happen.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday commonplace activity and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fits the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really...
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my baby loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss unless they have lost a child. NOTHING, even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you-it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is taking pills and trying not to cry all day because I know my mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone but someone stricken with grief over the loss of a child.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.
Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands, and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry, or if there is any food.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have three children or two, because you will never see this person again and it's not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have two children to avoid that problem you feel horrible, as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King play grounds because of small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.
Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours, and asking if there even is a God.
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss in a day or a million years.
And last of all normal is hiding all of the things that have become "normal" for you to feel so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
Twelve Years Ago
Twelve Years Ago
By: Cathy McDonald 3/19/2010
In loving memory of John Daniel Fry
Twelve years ago I met you
I brought you into this world
Twelve years ago I greeted you
I saw your sparkling blue eyes
Twelve years ago your life began
A life so full of promise
Twelve years ago you brought me joy
If only for a short time
By: Cathy McDonald 3/19/2010
In loving memory of John Daniel Fry
Twelve years ago I met you
I brought you into this world
Twelve years ago I greeted you
I saw your sparkling blue eyes
Twelve years ago your life began
A life so full of promise
Twelve years ago you brought me joy
If only for a short time
Where can I turn?
Where Can I Turn?
By: Cathy McDonald 10/14/09
In loving memory of John Daniel Fry
Where can I turn when I feel all alone?
What do I do when it seems no-one's there?
How can I go on if I feel nobody knows?
I look around....
They are out there just like me
Trying to hide so nobody sees
Hoping to cry and that it won't show
They try to hide....
We feel alone, and that nobody cares
We just KNOW that there's nobody there
Who could imagine just what we go through?
We start to share....
I open my heart, and let the tears flow
You open your arms and in a moment I know
I'm not alone, You're not alone
This club is just wrong
It shouldn't exist
Nobody longs to join
Yet can never leave
We walk along
Still trying to be strong
Our club getting bigger
Our pain growing deeper
We make new friends
It's a need we must accept
Our old friends just don't understand
And we don't want them to either!
The only way to know is to be in our shoes
I'm begging you please, don't even try them on!
So where do I turn?
To my new friends I turn
Hand in hand we learn....
By: Cathy McDonald 10/14/09
In loving memory of John Daniel Fry
Where can I turn when I feel all alone?
What do I do when it seems no-one's there?
How can I go on if I feel nobody knows?
I look around....
They are out there just like me
Trying to hide so nobody sees
Hoping to cry and that it won't show
They try to hide....
We feel alone, and that nobody cares
We just KNOW that there's nobody there
Who could imagine just what we go through?
We start to share....
I open my heart, and let the tears flow
You open your arms and in a moment I know
I'm not alone, You're not alone
This club is just wrong
It shouldn't exist
Nobody longs to join
Yet can never leave
We walk along
Still trying to be strong
Our club getting bigger
Our pain growing deeper
We make new friends
It's a need we must accept
Our old friends just don't understand
And we don't want them to either!
The only way to know is to be in our shoes
I'm begging you please, don't even try them on!
So where do I turn?
To my new friends I turn
Hand in hand we learn....
My journey
I lost my first son, John Daniel Fry, on June 14, 1998 to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). My life changed completely that day. I lost any innocence I still had left! What was this thing they were talking about, this SIDS that had just stolen my baby right out of my arms?! I was angry, I'm still angry! Why these little innocent babies? Why must these families go through this tremendous pain?! It makes no logical sense and it's just plain unfair!
My life did not end when I lost John. There were times that summer when I just wished it would, when I wished that I could join him. If he was in a better place than why wasn't I? All I kept hearing was that I was strong and I could make it through this and that there must be some reason for it. I still can't see any good reason for any baby to be taken from it's parents! I have decided to take those lemons that life handed me and try to make lemonade. I have decided that I want to try to do whatever I can to help other families whose lives have been devastated by SIDS get through this journey. It is an intense pain that I don't wish upon any other person, but unfortunately over 3500 new families a year in the US alone have to find a way to cope with this grief and find a way to get through their new life.
Life will never be the same again, how could it? There is a very important part of your life missing now, your baby. It is our job to figure out the right way for us to go on, how do we get through this grief, notice I say get through, we will NEVER get past it, or get over it! NEVER! How can that ever be expected of anyone? You get over the fact that your favorite pair of sunglasses broke, you cannot get over your child dying for no apparent reason. I am not the same person I was before and never will be, a piece of me is missing and it feels as though there is a hole in my heart that I can't fill, and I don't think I'll ever be able to fill it.
Getting through this takes courage and support! I can't give anyone else the courage to get through, but I can try and support you the best I know how. I can talk to you and let you know what has worked for me, but every person's experience with grief is unique. My goal in life is to make sure that John lives on through me and to do things that I think he would be proud of!
There is so much more that I could write, but I'll save it for another time. If you or someone you know has been through this and needs someone to talk to feel free to contact me sids@novass.net and I will try to get back to you as soon as possible. I check my e-mail on a daily basis, but it may take a day or two for me to get back to you sometimes.
Thanks for taking the time to read this! Mommy misses you Baby John! <3
My life did not end when I lost John. There were times that summer when I just wished it would, when I wished that I could join him. If he was in a better place than why wasn't I? All I kept hearing was that I was strong and I could make it through this and that there must be some reason for it. I still can't see any good reason for any baby to be taken from it's parents! I have decided to take those lemons that life handed me and try to make lemonade. I have decided that I want to try to do whatever I can to help other families whose lives have been devastated by SIDS get through this journey. It is an intense pain that I don't wish upon any other person, but unfortunately over 3500 new families a year in the US alone have to find a way to cope with this grief and find a way to get through their new life.
Life will never be the same again, how could it? There is a very important part of your life missing now, your baby. It is our job to figure out the right way for us to go on, how do we get through this grief, notice I say get through, we will NEVER get past it, or get over it! NEVER! How can that ever be expected of anyone? You get over the fact that your favorite pair of sunglasses broke, you cannot get over your child dying for no apparent reason. I am not the same person I was before and never will be, a piece of me is missing and it feels as though there is a hole in my heart that I can't fill, and I don't think I'll ever be able to fill it.
Getting through this takes courage and support! I can't give anyone else the courage to get through, but I can try and support you the best I know how. I can talk to you and let you know what has worked for me, but every person's experience with grief is unique. My goal in life is to make sure that John lives on through me and to do things that I think he would be proud of!
There is so much more that I could write, but I'll save it for another time. If you or someone you know has been through this and needs someone to talk to feel free to contact me sids@novass.net and I will try to get back to you as soon as possible. I check my e-mail on a daily basis, but it may take a day or two for me to get back to you sometimes.
Thanks for taking the time to read this! Mommy misses you Baby John! <3
YOU'RE NOT HERE
You're Not Here
By: Cathy (Fry) McDonald
You're not here
When I have fear
You're out of my life
When there's sorrow & strife
Although I won't see you
Until my life is through
I can feel your love
Streaming down from above
Knowing you're there
And that you care
Makes me happy
When life is crappy
By: Cathy (Fry) McDonald
You're not here
When I have fear
You're out of my life
When there's sorrow & strife
Although I won't see you
Until my life is through
I can feel your love
Streaming down from above
Knowing you're there
And that you care
Makes me happy
When life is crappy
ONE SWEET DAY
One Sweet Day
By: Cathy (Fry) McDonald
One sweet day
You'll be in my arms
One sweet day
I'll protect you from harm
One sweet day
I'll be with you
One sweet day
When my life is through
One sweet day
Your face I'll see
One sweet day
For all eternity
By: Cathy (Fry) McDonald
One sweet day
You'll be in my arms
One sweet day
I'll protect you from harm
One sweet day
I'll be with you
One sweet day
When my life is through
One sweet day
Your face I'll see
One sweet day
For all eternity
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