There are so many emotions associated with this whole experience of losing our angel boy. They come and go in the most interesting ways, and I wonder if there will ever be a time when certain things won’t hit us the way they do. I’ve never really been a worrier, but this experience has definitely changed me a bit in that regard. Not just generally, but it’s in interesting ways that are very specific to losing Benny.
For example, last Sunday we sat at our dining room table for dinner and used our Christmas dishes one last time for this year. Usually we use them throughout the holiday season, but this year has been anything but usual so this was only the second time we’ve used them. The other time was the night before Benny passed away. Somehow in my mind they two are connected, so I worried that something bad was going to happen again that night.
Or every time the kids sleep longer than normal, or Tom doesn’t stir when I get up in the morning, I panic that they’ve stopped breathing and something bad has happened. I find myself standing over the babies and putting my hand on their back or chest to ensure it’s rising and falling with their breath. I have a twinge of pain, and fear, and worry each time I walk down the stairs to their room in the morning if I haven’t heard them. I’m just certain something bad has happened.
And every time the kids (usually Isaac) cries at bedtime and won’t go to bed, I worry this will be my last interaction with them so I don’t want to be too firm in trying to get them to sleep. I worry something bad will happen and I will regret that our last moments together weren’t good. (Thankfully that wasn’t the case with Benny on that last Sunday night – our angel boy hardly ever cried and was such a good sleeper. But even still, I worry about it now.) It hurts my heart when the babies cry, because I would give anything to hear Benny cry again. But I don’t want to frustrate our parenting efforts to have consistent and stable bedtime routines, so I often feel caught. It worries me that I’m not making the right choice and that by not making the right choice, something bad is going to happen.
In my line of work, I often explain to victims that the reason they find connections between their trauma and peripheral facts and circumstances is because they’re trying to make sense of a situation that doesn’t make sense. They’re trying to take back some control over a situation where in most cases, they had no control. They’re trying to think of ways to protect themselves in the future, literally and figuratively, by figuring out things they can change to avoid the same situation or outcome. As I try to help victims process and work through the situations they’re facing, it’s so easy for me to recognize this specific aspect of trauma-response and I want to do everything I can to help them see it too so they can begin to heal. But now that I’m dealing with this trauma myself, it’s easier said than done.
It seems crazy that just because we used Christmas dishes and sat at our dining room table, I’m afraid one of my other children will pass away. Somehow I think that if we don’t ever use those dishes again, nothing bad will ever happen again.
It seems crazy that because my babies sleep in occasionally (which every other parent would be grateful for) I worry that they’ve passed away and I get fearful to enter their room. Somehow I think that if they never go to sleep again, nothing bad will ever happen again.
It all just seems crazy.
But it’s my experience. It’s the thoughts and feelings I’m having as I try to process through this. As logical and objective as I can be when helping others deal with trauma, it’s a whole different thing when dealing with it myself. I’m grateful for the training and experience I have that help me understand much of the processing in my head, but my heart is what I’m focused on now. And thankfully I have the hope that it won’t be this way forever.
Today Tom had meetings at church beginning at 9:00am, so it was just the babies and me for most of the day. We often like to take Sunday drives, so we hopped in the car and headed up to the Mount Timpanogos temple. As we pulled in the parking lot, I remembered that the last time I was at this temple was the week we lost Benny. What a tender mercy that whole experience was, but even still it was a really difficult week so remembering it today brought up a lot of emotions. Thankfully though, not all of the emotions were bad. I remembered the difficulty of that week. I remembered the emotions of losing my angel boy. I remembered feeling broken and afraid. But I also remembered the peace and light we felt when we were inside. I remembered feeling our angel boy so close. I remembered the miracle it was that we were able to even be there. I remembered it all. The good and the bad. The joy and the pain. I was able to remember it all – and not fall apart.
So that gives me hope. Hope that the fears and worries I have today (like using Christmas dishes or children who sleep in) will subside and I won’t worry about what I can’t control – or at least that I’ll worry less. Hope that I can honor my feelings and healing while still moving forward. Hope that I won’t be too hard on myself in the process.
Hope is what’s getting me through. I’m so grateful for hope and its healing perspective.
And so I have hope in the future.
I have hope in my Benny.
I have hope in the Lord.
And thankfully I even have hope in myself.
This smile, oh how I miss it! I love you Benny!