The Big Thaw

I recently came across a piece of writing, that inspired the following blog, posted on a Community Page for Child Loss.  It struck such a chord in my soul and ignited a flowing waterfall of words pouring from my finger tips.  Words that have been weighing so heavy on my heart as I anxiously awaited, stared down and surpassed the bittersweet 1st Angelversary of Madden on April 28th, 2013.
First, let me say, that my gut instincts as April was looming over me were indeed,  correct.  I could in no way, have ever planned how this depressive 'Anniversary' would play out.  After some insistence,  I agreed to let my Mom and Sister "kick us out" the eve of the dreading day.  We spent Saturday at an indoor  water park with our other two children (very difficult on my head), then proceeded to drop them back at our home with their "NeNe".  While we stayed the night at a hotel near our Church, they spent the night in our bedroom.  As the hours of 2 to 4 a.m. approached, my mom and sister were in the middle of the process of giving Michael and I a "new bedroom".  This included removing Madden's fully made, never messed crib and changing table, repainting the room as well as changing the bedding, curtains and decor.  At this same time, about 20 minutes away, I was lying in a hotel bed staring at a candle-lit photograph of my baby's face, while Mike slept next to me and the clock watched me from the corner of my right eye.  This, I was also instinctive about...wondering all through the month what I would be doing during those hours; all the while knowing the one thing I would be doing is what I doing during those hours last year....sleeping.
I credit Silent Loss - Child Loss Support for helping me to find the words to describe the way I am feeling as I enter this second realm of my journey as a grieving mother...  When I lost Madden, my world flipped upside down. Literally. For a while, I had to think about each breath I took, because I forgot how to do anything associated with life or how anything was associated to my life. This forgetfulness was my response to something that is so out of context with life...the death of a child.  Thus, I did not no how to live.  I never came to a point where I didn't want to live, I just didn't know how.  It triggered an automatic response for me to cling to every opportunity that crossed my path, in an exasperating and endless mission for my 'purpose'.  In fact, I didn't want to know how to live for a while following Madden's passing. One of the things that seemed to baffle me the most was how life continued on so easily for others without much, if any, disruption at all. Getting angry at the world in general for continuing to live, while I could not. I made myself numb.  I was frozen. It was less painful that way.
And, this is why many bereaved parents will say that the second year is harder than the first year of child loss. When we begin to thaw, our hearts can feel the raw pain all over again. And, THIS is when we most need the love, support and encouragement from friends. When this big thaw comes...so does the BIG PAIN. Please, friends, do not leave a bereaved parent, for the day they lost their child, they became a Grieving Parent, for the rest of their life.