Right Where I Am Project: 2 Years, 11 Months, & 3 weeks

I heard about this project on KK's Butterfly Wings and then followed it to its source at Still Life With Circles.  I thought it was an interesting project and felt like I had some reflecting to do so I decided to participate.

      So where am I now on the long and bumpy road of grief?  It depends on the month and my emotional state but the majority of the time I feel happy. I'm proud to be Ryan's mother but I struggle finding my place in this world as a mother to an angel in heaven.  For example, I want to be recognized as a mother on Mother's Day but I don't really feel as though it is a day of celebration for me.  Sometimes I disappear from blog land for long periods of time.  I mostly follow baby loss or infertility sites.  It just becomes too overwhelming and I start to fall into a deep dark place.  I'm working on expanding the sites I follow to include other things that I'm interested in such as book clubs and education blogs.  I've been down in the dumps with depression and have fought my way back.  I'm gaining back some of the old me by controlling my diet and exercise.  I'm working really hard at not letting the passing of my son define me but only be a part of me.  I've attend group support for infant loss through Compassionate Friends.  There I met some remarkable people that give me strength and advice.  Last year I met with a grief counselor that had also experienced infertility and infant loss.  She helped me immensely.  One of the biggest lessons my counselor helped me learn was to stand up for myself when people make rude and inappropriate comments.  I'm sure you've heard them too.  Without being disrespectful I'm now able to tell people that their comment was hurtful.
     I miss my son something terrible but I don't bawl my eyes out  on a daily basis.  Believe me the tears still flow but they don't come as often.  May and June are horrible months for me so the water works tend to be turned on more frequently and easily.  There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of my son.  I'm always looking at children and wondering if that's what he would be like.  Every time a lion pops up when I'm least expecting it I take it as a sign from Ryan reminding me that he is with me and aware of my thoughts about him.  I can open a baby shower invitation without tears now but I'm still unable to attend baby showers.  I order and send gifts online rather than going to the store so I can save myself the embarrassment of crying in front of others.  I avoid places where babies are going to be such as children's birthday parties.  I know that's awful but I just can't do it.  The moment people start ohhhing and ahhhing over babies I fall to pieces.  I'm much happier inside my protective bubble.  Toddlers and older children don't seem to bother me but babies get me every time.  I still visit the cemetery once a week and probably will for the rest of my life.  I enjoy bringing my son flowers and trimming the grass around his head stone.  I feel this is one way I can take care of my son.  Other moms have the privilege of taking care of their children on a daily basis.  I never really had that opportunity.  In the sixteen days that Ryan was in the NICU the nurses  took the best care of him.  I was able to assist them once in a while but I mostly left it up to the experts because I wanted him to survive and thrive.  Every night I give my son's picture a kiss goodnight and tell him how much I love him because that's what I would do if he was here.
     My goal for the upcoming years is to once again smile when I see a baby and hopefully be in the same room without having a melt down.  I know this will happen in my own time.  One day the time will be right for me and before I even realize it I will smile without tears or the conflict of joy and sorrow in my heart.    
     I'm grateful to my blogging buddies who continue to welcome me back with no questions asked.  I appreciate the positive messages they send me when I pull one of my disappearing acts.  Although I've never met most of you in person I consider you to be friends.  Thank you for your continued support on the long and bumpy road of grief.  May this post be a blessing to someone today.