Guest post by Bev Cooper
People assume that you don’t want to talk about it. That bringing it up is too painful, it brings back painful memories that you want to forget. In fact, the opposite is true.
Yes, it is painful, but I love to talk about him. I live with the pain every day, so to speak about him doesn’t remind me of the pain, it’s there, and it’s impossible to forget. But talking about him lets me remember him, to commemorate his life and that he existed.
I may cry, it may be emotional, but those feelings and tears help to validate his life.
He existed. The love is real. I have a son.
Related: She Existed
Wyatt was born on October 31, 2014, and he was 5 lbs. 15 oz. of perfection. For reasons we’ll never understand, he died before he took his first breath when I was 37 weeks pregnant. Less than two weeks before that my pregnancy was described as “the picture of health.”
Our hopes and dreams for this child were gone in a quick second. Any bereaved parent will tell you that time doesn’t heal, but that time teaches you how to live with the pain. This is something I had heard and read. I couldn’t believe that it could be true.
How. Do. You. Possibly. Live. With. This. Pain.
It’s been three months since Wyatt died. Three months is no time, especially when you consider I have the rest of my life to live without him. But I’m learning that you do learn to live with this pain.
At times you feel as though your body could shatter into a thousand pieces. You never imagine you could feel so broken, so empty and so utterly helpless. Those words have been redefined, and I feel what it means to be them.
Related: Yes, You Could Survive It
But here I am, three months later, still living and still feeling the pain.
Over the past three months I’ve searched all over looking for relief and comfort anywhere I can find them. I’ve read books and blogs, and I’ve talked to anyone who will listen. It’s as though I’ve been searching for some magic words or some magic revelation that would make it all make sense.
If I keep looking, then maybe eventually I’ll find what it is that will make this pain stop. But when those moments of pain strike, when out of the blue you’re knocked off your feet, there is nothing you or anyone can do or say to help take those heavy and dark feelings away.
They’ve become apart of you. You may become distracted at times, but they are there, and you are well aware of them.
There are a few things that help to bring me comfort. One of the times I feel at my strongest is after I’ve had a good conversation about Wyatt. Ask me anything you want to know, I’ll gladly answer. Allowing a parent to talk about their child who has died enables them to feel closer to them.
I love to share Wyatt’s story; I don’t want to pretend he didn’t exist, because he did. He still does.
He has changed me, and he is forever a part of me. What people don’t realize is that I don’t want to hide him away in the memory box that sits on my dresser.
Does talking about your living child make you feel proud? Ask me about Wyatt, behind the tears and the brokenness you’ll see the same pride that you would see when I talk about his big sister.