Today it has been 10 months since we lost Boe, but it has also been 10 months since we welcomed Adler and Cameron. I have been crying a lot lately. I feel so isolated. I am with my children all day, which I love, but I miss being around adults. Adults, even though they may not get what I have gone through, get sadness, anger, resentment, all of which I feel.
It has often been so hard for me to not breakdown sobbing in front of my children. I find myself smiling through tears or silently crying into their hair because I don't want to frighten them. I don't want them to see me weak, vulnerable, and utterly helpless. After that feeling passes, I pause, and ask myself is THAT healthy? Can't I honor Boe best by being honest about the fact that I miss him like hell? Can't I parent them better by showing them that feelings, good or bad, are OK?
What happened to us 10 months ago sucks. There is no rhyme or reason to it, it is not natural, it is not what anyone expects or aspires to in life and it is NOT fair. But you know what else sucks? Trying to hide how I truly feel because I am afraid that it will scare my children or make somebody else uncomfortable. I am taking a stand here and now - FUCK THAT SHIT.
What is not natural, and what is not fair, is for me to force myself to pretend that everything is OK; it is not. My baby is dead. Acting like all is fine is the worst disrespect that I could pay to my children (both alive and dead), my family, my friends and myself. Acting like everything is OK is like pretending that Boe never existed. He did, I held him, I saw him with my own 2 eyes. Boe's death is something that has forever changed me; never again will I be the Kirsten I was before I went to the doctor on 4/22/2010.
I want to honor Boe by becoming a woman who is as close a version to the pre 4/22 version of me as possible. I want to keep him alive by crying for him, laughing with him or just plain thinking about him when the urge strikes regardless of how it may "look". I want my children and husband to see that I can be weak, vulnerable and helpless, and still be OK. That this is healthy, I am not some robot who goes through life, stoic and without emotion.
Perhaps the best way for me to grow is to realize that in being weak, in allowing myself to feel pain and show it, I am, in fact, stronger. I can be a better wife, a better mother, a better me. I would be fooling myself to believe that this experience is something that I will "get over", but maybe, just maybe if I open myself up I can get through it.