The ninth month of the year.
The one month that has me battling emotions all over the place. The one month I dread and look forward to. September.
Who knew one month would hold so much, would have such an impact.
You see two of my sons were born in September and dates that reflect important events for each of them are very close to one another.
Makes each September conflicted with all these emotions.
September 7 – My first son’s date of birth.
September 19 – My first son’s date of death.
September 23 – My second son’s date of birth.
Even 8 years later, so many emotions and thoughts wrapped into one month.
I grieve and I mourn the son no longer here but also try desperately to not undermine this special time for my other son.
In the beginning, it was harder since the births of my first two boys are only 1 year and 2 weeks apart.
I am glad I had a few years to grieve and mourn without it affecting my other son since he was so little and had no idea what mommy was enduring. But as he gets older I don’t want my emotions to pull him down, to ruin his birthday.
Things grieving parents have to do to make sure their other children don’t feel distressed at certain points or certain occasions in their life.
When we got pregnant with number 2, he was supposed to be an October baby, we had no idea he would come 3 weeks early.
I never want my sons who are living to feel less than whole, to never feel as if mommy loves them less because they live.
As grieving parents, we not only second guess our losses, our sorrow, our grief; we also second guess how to act and love our other children. We are in constant conflict with our own thoughts and feelings as to how to do anything, everything, the simplest of tasks, the hard ones too.
I constantly question myself, would I have been then conflicted as a mother if my son had lived? Would I have these doubts if he has lived? Would I second guess myself if he lived? All questions with no answers because no one knows how they would have been, who they would be if their son or daughter had not died.
Sure I can imagine what life would be like if he had lived, but realistically I have no idea. Sure I can dream about what life would have been like if he had lived, but that is all it is… a dream.
The month that reminds me each and every year how old my son should be. The month that reminds me how long it has been since he passed away in my arms. The month that reminds me exactly what I’ve missed out in his life. The month that reminds me what I will miss out in his future. The months that reminds me that this never should have happened.
Believe me, these are always on my mind but for the month of September… they are stronger, more potent.
September has passed and the weight is slowly lifting from my shoulders. The weight of still learning how to grieve and not let it affect my other sons in a negative way. The weight of still learning how to be joyful and allow it to be ok and a part of me. To know it does not mean I care less, I love less or I grieve less.
A grieving mother still learning how to function.
The hardest month to get through, but I’ve don’t it. I’ve gotten through this many, I can get through more no matter how hard.
September… my month of grief and joy.
Photo by Greg Shield on Unsplash
Marisa is the mother to 3 boys, one gone too soon and 2 keeping her on her toes. Drake died in 2010 at 12 days, 16 hours old after being pulled from life support due to injuries he sustained during delivery. Her other 2 boys: Aden and Gavin, whom she loves every minute with them.