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Wednesday, December 12, 2012


I'm not going to do this right.  But, I'm also not going to do it wrong.  I have to keep reminding myself of that.  People say, "what are you doing out?  Why are you here?"  The truth is that I don't know. The truth is that sometimes my body just takes me places for no particular reason at all and sometimes I am paralyzed with the pain and loss of my son.  In those moments, you won't see me.  You won't be there to watch me turn inside out and upside down, and scream so loud that my throat hurts.

Sometimes when I'm outside my house I find myself wondering, "Do I look sufficiently miserable today?  Do people recognize that my pain is right at the surface?  If I laugh will they think that I'm better and that I've moved on?"  What is a mother who lost a child supposed to look like?  I'm still me, you know?  I still move the same way.  My hair is still the same color.  I still put clothes on everyday, although sometimes I lack the energy to get out of bed.

Every person I've talked to, who actually "gets it", says that it will take time.  What I want to know is where the hell is this "flying" time that everyone talks about?  "Don't blink or time will pass you by in an instant and you'll have missed it."  I say bullshit.  I say time is still.  Time is being lazy and trying to piss me off.  It's like I'm waiting for a pot of water to boil on a stove that hasn't been turned on.

I want to know when the burning stops.  When does the actual, physical ache in my chest subside?  When do I stop noticing little reminders of what will never be?  But, the thing is, I don't want answers to these questions, from anyone.  Because, honestly, no one knows.  No one is going to grieve exactly the same way I am.  No one else was Easton's mother.  And no one gets to put a timeline on my grief.

So, you're going to see me out sometimes.  And sometimes, you may not see me for days.  A piece of me is gone, and I've got to learn how to function without it. Right now, breathing is about as good as it gets.


  1. Shannon the burning never stops. It does however ease with time. No two mothers can say i know what you're going thru. Only u do. 21 years ago christmas day i gave birth to a baby with a cdh. We lost him 3 months later after a roller coaster ride from hell. Breathing at this time is all u can do. You are on automatic pilot. For months i was lost and hurting from the loss of my first son. Nothing mattered to me but my pain. Only with God's help and my 3 yr old daughter did i manage to pull myself together enough to function.

  2. A few years after my mom died I heard something that seemed so right it has stick with me for years. It said something like this "you never get over it, nothing eases the pain, and you never forget but just learn how to go on with the pain and get better at dealing with the fact that they aren't here physically". This really hit home to me and I wanted to share because I think the saying time heals all wounds is a lie and for those who haven't really experienced loss. Thanks for the blog...I read every post.

  3. I also enjoy reading your blog. Thank you so much for sharing everything. You are a strong woman we can all see that But even strong women have weak moments. God bless you and your family.

  4. Shannon I don't even know if you read the comments because there so many, you do not know me, I only know you from people coming in the shop, praying for you and talking to me about you, i have 5 children of my own and I cannot even imagine the pain you're feeling and going through but I will continue to pray for you my heart bleeds for you

  5. you are so right on the money! your grieving timeline is just that, YOURS! don't let others tell you that you are not doing it right. breathing is exactly what you are suppose to be doing! and sometimes that is impossible. time does stand still... and you look around at other people and their lives are moving forward. how are they moving forward? how can they get ready for the holidays when you can not even plan for later today. i don't have answers for you, but just know that you are not alone. and you are not the first one to have these same feelings. my pastor once told me that there should be something that you can wear so others know you are grieving. kinda like the way police officers wear a black band over their badges when they lose an officer. that way if you start to tear up when you are out in public, people wont look at you weird. they will see the sign and know that you are in grief mode and to be able to just say a quick prayer for you or give you an consoling warm hand on your back. i agree with marcy... you will never get over it, but you do learn how to live with it. God Bless