Two Year Angelversary
Two years ago as I witnessed life leave my child’s body, all hope, denial, or insanity left mine. Whatever was holding me up and pushing me forward dissipated into thin air. At that moment, absolute terror invaded my soul. There was silence and then screaming, lots of screaming…
How was I supposed to live without my child?
In the weeks after, my heart rate was through the roof hitting 180 at rest. I couldn’t sit still, I had no idea what to do. All that was is no longer. It has been two years and still no answer, just one day at a time.
Yesterday afternoon, this feeling came over me. Lightheaded, short of breath, shaky, nothing new except this time it was stronger. It was terror, not anxiety, sheer terror. As I sat on the side of my garden bed trying to overcome, I realized that the physical symptoms of losing my child were back in full force just like they were two years ago.
Child loss grief has a severe impact on not only the mind but also the body. The reason for this is that as parents we are designed to protect our child or die trying. When a child goes first, the body doesn’t know what to do with the massive amounts of energy it has created for survival. This energy hums through the veins, but there is no place for it to go therefore it expands the heart, constricts the lungs, pounds in the head.
It is debilitating and frightening. It is real and everlasting.
Someone said to my husband recently, “It’s been over a year, let’s put that to the side.” I talked him down as best I could. Then I thought about it again as I checked my resting heart rate at 150. It was then I decided no matter how hard, or how anxious this makes me I must say something.
The world is full of judgments and criticisms that have no place. I know that is the reality, but it is unacceptable to judge a mother or father who has lost a child. A parent’s first and most important duty is to protect their child. I gave it my everything, and it wasn’t enough. Now, my body misfires because part of it is missing from this earth. Some days my heart rate skyrockets, my lungs forget how to work and my legs do not carry me.
This is my reality, and negative judgments are not warranted or welcome. I realize those that say these things will probably never have the courage to make it this far into the article, but my heart rate has lowered, so there is that.
As we mourn our girl who died two years ago today, we will focus on getting air into our lungs, putting one foot in front of the other and remember the amazing legacy Ava left behind. We will continue to do the best we can with what we have. That is all there is.
Oh and this…
