Will, there ever come a time, a day I don’t feel like I failed him?
I failed to be a mother to him.
I failed to be his advocate.
I failed to push the doctor when I felt something was wrong.
I failed to get him here safely.
I failed him in so many ways.
I still feel as if I am failing him.
A year after we lost him, my husband and I started a nonprofit in his memory. We had so many plans of ways to try and help babies in NICUs or their parents.
Over the last several years, I’ve planned different fundraising events to raise money for babies in NICUs but also to keep his memory alive.
I know we have raised a decent amount of money that has gone to help but I feel we could have raised so much more if I had just known how to get us and our cause out there.
But I am learning that the loss of a baby is hard for others who have not endured it, they want to shy away from something that they can only imagine how painful it is.
One year we collect baby blankets to share with NICUs so that the babies could have a small piece of home with them, to give these sterile beds and rooms a bit of color. To give the parents a piece to cherish if their baby did not make it.
No matter what I do I just can’t get other people outside certain friends and family to be interested in what we are trying to do.
So I made the hard decision to dissolve the nonprofit this year.
I’m tired of failing.
Nothing I do seems to be enough.
Maybe it’s time to move on from failing so much.
Maybe it’s time to just realize that he is my memory, my son. It’s ok if no one else remembers him because I will always remember him.
It’s time to work on me, as a grieving mother who has 2 other boys to raise.
A mother who will say his name and tell his story so his brothers know him.
It’s time to work through my failures so I can continue my grieving.
I can say I tried. I can say I failed.
I will always regret the times I failed him but that is part of my life now.
Part of my grief.
All the what-ifs.
All the should of, could ofs.
I can’t force others to miss him, to love him, to remember him but I will every day for the rest of my life.
My grief is mine. My failures are mine.
But no matter what I love that little boy.
Will I ever stop feeling as if I failed him? A question that will remain unanswered and only time will tell. Time is all we have to give to our grief.
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.
Failure comes from a lack of trying. You are NOT a failure, you have not failed – you weren’t in control to begin with. I think that’s the mistake we all make; We punish ourselves for not controlling the un-controllable. I hate hearing it, and hate saying it, and am having a HARD time accepting it. I can influence, but cannot control anything. Half of the time I’m not sure I even control myself.
I do not believe you failed him. Maybe you freed him. And your love-his mother’s love-will never die. Forgive yourself. Try and let the love be enough. You are brave. You are strong. You are a mother. ❤️❤️
‘I will always regret the times I failed him but that is part of my life now.
Part of my grief.
All the what-ifs.
All the should of, could ofs.
I can’t force others to miss him, to love him, to remember him but I will every day for the rest of my life.’
Yes, so much this. I see so many parents doing so much in their child’s name, but I don’t feel that motivation. It’s enough for me to just love him, I can’t do more than that yet.