I will always fight for you.
A simple concept but one I carry for EACH of my children. The Mama bear simply does not just go away when one of your children die.
That desperate desire to do for your child and to protect them against anything, even if you are only protecting their memory.
When I first lost my son and started to sort through my thoughts, I remember having these guilty feelings.
I felt like I was not physically doing enough for my child. I was mourning him, hurting for him, lost without him.
Still, it felt as if I was missing something. I was being placed in situations where his name wasn’t spoken.
Where the name Lennon caused an obvious shudder in those I spoke openly to.
A purposeful avoidance of anything pertaining to him, to his loss, to the moments I carried him, even so far as to pretend the spacing of my living children was some purposeful, thought out dream.
I was allowing other people’s thoughts of what grief was to them to define how I wanted to deal with his loss.
I realize I can’t change how others choose to grieve (or not grieve) him but I am responsible to grieve him in a way that this Mama bear would take pride in, loudly.
My Mama bear lived on in my defiant mention of his life while others where discussing regular mommy milestones.
The awkward conversations went a little like this: “Breastfeeding is so hard. I was so engorged when baby missed a feed.”
I answered back with a, “I’ve only ever been engorged once when I lost Lennon. Not the most pleasant thing.”
There is no way to clear a room faster than to mention your dead child to a proud new mother.
I was a proud mom though. A proud mom to a baby who had passed.
I wanted to share him, I wanted to be a part of something I used to belong to.
I may no longer belong to the shiny new mom club but I am still a mom to a sweet angel boy.
My desire to share him and protect his memory from fading lives in me and so I talk about him.
My Mama bear instinct is to fight against my own desire to wallow in misery.
I catch myself often using such negative self talk about my loss and who I have had to become through it.
Whenever I start feeling resentful that I am forced to be this new person, forced to face life without him, I remember that even I have to remember to respect his memory.
I remember that the life that I lead without him is in place simply because I love him.
Our connection is so strong. I feel it in everything I do, in every moment, every breath.
I need to remember that the pain is the price I pay for loving him.
I never want the life I have as a product of his loss to be viewed as anything but positive.
I am a proud mother to a sweet boy who was never given the gift of his first breath.
I am the guardian of his memory and one of the few people who know just how much of an impact his little presence has had on this world.
I am a Mama bear, fiercely fighting for ALL of my children on Earth and in heaven.
There is no shame in that.
Morgan McLaverty, a world traveler that has taken roots in southern New Jersey where her husband Sean was born and raised. Now, a stay at home mother, she cares for her three living boys; Gavin Cole(5), Rowan Grey(3) and Holden Nash (1). She also is a mother to Lennon Rhys. Lennon was born still at thirty one weeks and five days. His loss spurred on a need in Morgan to write her feelings, share her grief and help others in the process. She hopes her words will help shed the silence and taboo nature of discussing pregnancy and child loss.