Parties are supposed to be fun times and filled with happiness right? Well, this party started off fun, but ended with the class asking more questions about Wyatt. The questions were questions that I hadn't had to answer outside of friends and family before.
It was strange sitting there with a room full of people, who I had only meant a few weeks ago, as they starred at me while I blurted out some of the horrific details that unfolded in my life starting on May 26, 2010. They wanted to know and I was willing to share. Well, willing to share some, not all.
I told our family's story (the vague version) to a room full of people who just appeared stunned when they heard it. I did it without crying. What does that mean? Have I lost all connection? Have a grown immune to the fact that my first son is in Heaven? How does a mother tell a story about the loss of her precious son without crying? What the hell is wrong with me?
After discussing Wyatt for what seemed to be hours, I excused myself to allow for the discussion in the room to change. I went to my desk, sat down and quickly asked myself all of the questions listed above. I couldn't come up with any answers.
I remember someone telling me just a few months after losing Wyatt that the pain eventually becomes easier to deal with. This person was a close friend's mother. She would know, as she lost her baby years back. I remember thinking that day, after the conversation was over, that my pain would always be there and it would never become easier. I said to myself that day "Wyatt means too much to ever have the pain become easier."
The pain is not gone, it never will be. The pain will remain in my heart, my soul, and my mind forever. The pain is something that I will never be able to describe in words. It's there and it will remain until I see my son again. I lost my son, lost him. He is never coming back to be with his mother or father. The next time we will see him will be in Heaven.
But today I realized that the conversation I had a few months back with a very wise mother was accurate. The pain IS still there, it is not going any where. But I am now able to deal with it. I have never had to carry pain with me throughout life. Nothing had ever happened to me that caused me so much pain that it needed to be carried. But my life is different now. It all changed in one long week in 2010.
I will now carry my pain forever, but it is becoming easier to deal with. For I have taught myself how to carry my pain without falling.
I found a poem today and I wanted to share it. It reminded me a lot of Wyatt.
You were a part of us
and we knew life was there.
We would wonder--a boy or girl?
Would you have hair?
I reflect back on the memories
of what I felt inside.
Were you growing?
Was that a flutter?
Were your eyes open wide?
Now you're here,
but not as we planned.
Our dreams have been shattered
as we touch your little hand.
Your tiny feet, your sleeping face,
we know you're in a special place.
Your peaceful look, your little nose.
God cradles you in sweet repose.
But we have these gifts
to hold close to heart.
And we will always have the memories
of which you are a part.
You were a part of us
and we knew a life was there.
We thank you for these simple treasures
you have placed within our care.