Mother's Day

Saturday was the nine month anniversary of Zach's passing. It's still so hard to believe that he's been gone that long. So much has happened in 9 months... I think of all that he's missed and I get angry. Holidays and special events are especially hard. Those are the days when no matter how good at denial you are, you just can't avoid the pain. I don't even need a calendar to remind me. It's like I wake up knowing that certain days are just going to suck worse than others. 
Like Mother's Day... As most of you know, I did not give birth to Zachary. I entered into a committed relationship with his father when he was 4 years old (and I was 19) and we became an instant family. Right from day one, I knew he was mine. We had an immediate and strong bond that was undeniable. I never expected to have a family. To the best of my knowledge, that is something that was never going to be in the cards for me. I was fine with that. I didn't think I ever wanted to be a mom. Then I met Zach. And more than anything in the world, I wanted to be his mom. And as it turned out, he needed one, so it was meant to be. I stayed home full time with him for almost 3 years. I taught him to read, write, tie his shoes and more. Once he was in school all day, I took a part time job that allowed me to take and pick him up from the bus each day, and the freedom to request days off to volunteer in his classroom and attend field trips. I packed lunches, helped with homework, was the bad guy that made him clean his room and eat his vegetables, got up with him at night when he was sick, and so on. Once he was old enough to stay home for a few hours, I went to work full time. But I still volunteered in his classes and attended all field trips, plays, concerts and games. That was important to me. He was my son, and I didn't want to miss anything. We did so much together. We even attended the Mother/Son Dance every single year, until the cut off age. I loved him with every ounce of my being. I still do. I may not have given birth to him, but he was my son in every other way imaginable. He was the child I was meant to have. He was my gift. And each year on Mother's Day, he made sure to tell me what that meant to him. From the time he was very small, he did something special for me on that day. Even before anyone else accepted it, he always showed me how important I was to him. And that meant more than anything. From handmade cards and gifts, to the later years when he bought me things with his own money. They all meant the world to me. It was the one day of the year that I most questioned my motherhood. And it was a day that without even knowing it, he assuaged my fears. He made me feel important and special to him. He made all the sleepless nights, doubts and fears disappear, and just made me feel like a normal mom. His mom. The best title in the world. And he made me realize that I didn't just want to be A mom, I wanted to be HIS mom, and not only did he need me, but I needed him just as much. 
Now Mother's Day is just a few days away, and every time I turn on the TV, radio or computer, I am bombarded with reminders. Reminders that I am no longer a mom. Reminders that my son is gone. Reminders that he no longer needs me, but that I need him more than ever. 
I am dreading Sunday... If I could take a pill and sleep through the entire day, I would. But unfortunately, that isn't an option. 
I miss my son. The pain is indescribable and immeasurable. And while the rest of the world is celebrating their children and motherhood, I'll be grieving the loss of both.... 

                                  My Boy Child and I, years ago. 

What Now? (A poem)

What Now?

The house is far too quiet,
There's no music to turn down.
The laundry hamper's empty,
There's no socks lying around. 
No snacks inside the pantry,
No wrappers on the floor, 
There's no one here who needs me,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

No messes here to clean up,
No lessons left to teach.
No boo boos that need kisses,
No shelves that can't be reached.
No homework to be checked,
No lists and rules and chores.
There's nothing left for me to do,
I'm not a mother anymore.

Three toothbrushes in the bathroom,
But only two of us live here.
But you aren't away at college,
You aren't living somewhere near.
You won't need help with groceries,
Or tips on how to score.  
You don't need me now for anything,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

No more stockings to be stuffed,
No more birthday dinners made.
The sound of your voice in my head,
Will slowly start to fade. 
Memories of how you left,
Still hurt me to the core.
Each day is a reminder,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

I still have lots of love to share,
Some advice I'd like to give.
I wasn't ready to say good-bye,
You had so much life to live.
They say God must have needed you,
But I can't understand what for. 
He took away our only child,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

There will be no wedding dance,
I won't see you say "I do." 
I'll never be a grandma,
And spoil a child or two. 
I guess we never know
What the future has in store...
But I do know one thing,
I'm not a mother anymore.

-Teena M. Hauxwell-Finn
April 19, 2013

A Letter To My Son...

Dear Zach,

I dreamt about you last night. But that is nothing new... I dream of you almost every night. I relive memories and moments of your life. I hear people talk about their loved ones coming to them in dreams, and talking with them. Hearing them say they are ok and that they know they love them. I would give anything for a dream like that. Why don't you come to me? I have so many questions. Are you ok? Will I see you again someday? Can you see and hear me when I talk to you? I talk to you a lot. Sometimes I swear I can even hear your voice answering me in my head. Or hear you laugh at me when I do something stupid. 

I sat in your room for a long time this morning. I read a bunch of the messages that were written to you at the luminary service. I still haven't read them all. It's too painful... Someday I'll finish them. I like to sit and look at your photos and talk to you. Sometimes I wear one of your shirts. You used to think it was kinda cool when I would steal your shirts. Mostly because it meant you were getting bigger, and you were obsessed with getting taller. You wanted to be big, like your Dad, and I wanted to keep you little forever. I would have settled for just having you forever... 

I miss you so much. I miss our talks about anything and everything. I miss teasing your Dad together and cracking up at the goofy things he does. I even miss you two making fun of me and laughing so hard you were crying. I miss all the stupid little things we used to do as a family. I miss all the big things, too. Spring is coming, and that means all your friends are on Spring Break. I wonder if you would've wanted to go somewhere again. Maybe this year we would've gone somewhere with you. We'll never know now... As much as I'm looking forward to spring and warmer weather, I know it'll only make me miss you more. 

Each day that passes makes me miss you more. You've missed so much. It isn't fair. This world is such a shitty place, and people like you made it better. So why you? People ask me why I don't believe in God, and I ask them how I could. Would a truly loving and caring God take someone so young and so kind? Someone who lit up the world just by being in it. Someone who helped others and had such a giving heart. If there really is a reason for everything, then at the very least we should know why we suffer. Otherwise, why bother. I don't want to believe in a God who forgives the guilty and punishes the innocent. I hear people say that you are in a better place now. Where? And how do they know that? I hope for your sake that it's true. You deserve the best. I just wish you could tell me that you're ok. That you're safe and happy. That you aren't scared or in pain. I hate the not knowing. I hate not being able to fix it. There's no kiss or band-aid to make this all better and it makes me feel helpless. 

I know I'm just rambling on... there are just so many things I want to say to you. So many hugs I want to give you. There was still so much left for you to do. I hate this... Today is not a good day for me. I try and stay positive and do what I promised you, but sometimes I just can't. I'm sorry... Sometimes it all just gets to be too much. Maybe I'm not strong enough to do this. I could sure use your light today, kiddo. 

I love you bunches and bunches, Boy Child...

Time

I've always thought about time as a measurement of where we are in a given space. Are we 3 hours into a day? Or maybe 3 days into a month? Three months into a year? And so on... But since August 3rd, time has taken on new meaning to me. 
I now look at time as a distance. Am I closer to the end or the beginning? Now sometimes, this is a general thing, like am I closer to the end of the day or week, but more often than not, it is a reflection on life itself. My son was so close to the beginning of his life when it was ripped from him. 18 years is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Which begs the question, where am I in the grand scheme? Is 33 closer to the beginning or the end of my time? A few months ago, I would've instantly said the beginning. Now, I am just not so sure. Some days it feels closer to the end. Or maybe it's really that some days I just WANT it to be. Once my son became a part of my life, I never even thought of the possibility that he wouldn't be in it. Now, I have this unknown and possibly long future ahead of me, and it feels wrong. Why am I allowed 33+ years, and he wasn't? Why did I get to fall in love and share my life with someone and he didn't? Each thing I do now is overshadowed by the thought that my son will never get to do it. How does one get past that? DOES one get past that? 
Time is a funny thing. I look outside and see the seasons changing. I see kids growing up and adults growing old. I know time is passing. But in a lot of ways for me, time stopped on August 3rd. When I walked in that hospital room and saw my son, I knew life was forever changed. Logically, I know that time has passed. But emotionally, I feel trapped in a time warp. Every time I close my eyes at night, I see his face. I relive that night. Each morning when I wake up, I remember he is gone. It's like an endless loop. The days pass, but I'm just not sure I really notice. They all seem the same to me now. Yes, some are better or worse than others, but that's about it. I find myself saying "What day was that?" a lot now. I've missed loved ones birthdays and anniversaries. Holidays mean nothing anymore. Time is passing all around me, but I feel left behind. My friends and family are great, and they have been endlessly supportive, but at some point, they too will move on. They will go back to their normal routines and their lives. I no longer have a normal routine or life. Now I am the crazy woman crying in her car at a stoplight. Or the weirdo getting emotional at the grocery store over a bag of cheese balls. This is my new routine. I go through life one minute at a time now. Each day is a test of my will. Can I make it through this without breaking down? What will trigger me today? What will I say if someone asks me if I have kids? This is my new life. There is the me that everyone sees. She laughs, she jokes, she goes about her business. She seems fine. Then there is the real me. The one who is fighting just to get out of bed each day. The one who struggles with things like making pancakes because it reminds her too much of him. The one who talks aloud to her dead son and begs him to come to her in her dreams. 

Time is a funny thing, because no matter what each of us is going through, time doesn't care. It still keeps moving on. The clock keeps spinning, the days and years will pass whether we want them to or not. And maybe, in time, I will find some kind of peace. I guess only time will tell...

                                                                 (My son, Zachary.)