Painting The Emotion 3 Months Later

Do you know what literal heartbreak feels like? A pain so profound that putting it into words seems an impossible feat?

So much perfection...

I am going to do my best to describe it to you...

The moment I heard the words brain dead in reference to John's condition, my heart seized up. I had to protect myself from the pain we were going to have to endure, the tough decisions that lay ahead. It wasn't so much for myself as it was for my family. My sister needed me to be strong so I had no choice but to push my pain aside for the time being. 

I remember being so scared of how things would play out that day. 

You don't understand the fear like that of seeing a tiny little person you love hooked up to life support, so very fragile and broken. 

You don't understand the fear like that of knowing you have to walk away without him. Forever.

You don't understand the fear like that of having to watch that tiny person's mother hold him as his heart came to a stop. 

You don't understand the fear like that of listening to the cries of your sister holding her dead child. 

If you know this fear, my heart goes out to you. If you have lost a child, you know these fears as well as I do. They never go away. They only turn into anxiety.

Fear was my driving emotion September 2016. 

We went through the motions that day, but in all honesty I think we cast aside the dark raw emotions. Don't misunderstand, there were very deeply pained hearts...it felt like our souls went with him, but we didn't have time to process what was really happening. It all happened so quickly. He was there...and then he was gone. No answers, no explanations. 

Initially you're in such a state of shock after a sudden unexpected loss that you don't quite feel the heartbreak. You go to bed that first night so indescribably tired that you don’t sleep, you just lay there wide awake trying to sort your thoughts. When it has been 48 hours since you slept last, sleep doesn’t seem necessary anymore. Once you do get to sleep, it is restless, and long overdue. When you wake, that is when the heart break begins to set in.

There is a 'world on your shoulders' kind of feeling. When you open your eyes after your brain has had time to process, that is when you feel it. It's as if you're lying on your back and you can't move. There is nothing restraining you. No chains or bonds. But you can't move. Every blink feels like sandpaper dragging over your bloodshot, over cried eyes. Tears start to form again because the reality sinks in that he really is gone. Your throat gets tight, breathing becomes harder. You don't get to hold him anymore. No more kisses or grins. No more tickles and giggles. No more photos. No more future for a once bright light that was a part of the center that held your world together.

Then your heart begins racing. It is racing like it will beat right out of your chest. You feel tons of anxiety squeezing behind your racing heart. But for as fast as it's beating it is held down by a burdensome weight. There is literally nothing there. There is nothing on your chest. But it feels like there is an insurmountable weight. Heavier than logic can calculate. Your arms ache as if they are being crushed. They are desperately clinging to the last time you held that baby...trying to hold tight to something that was taken from you. You inhale a deep breath hoping to catch a whiff of his scent; the baby soap Mommy washed him in for the last time lingers deep in your nostrils ever so faint, lost before you realize it was there...your finger tips burn to touch...lips quiver to kiss...but you can't. 

That is a level of despair almost impossible to come back from, to heal from. The hardest part is that this is not just felt the day after your first nights sleep...this is a pain you feel every time you wake. And when you dream of him while you sleep...waking is even harder. You feel that heart racing, pained anxiety every time you have a fleeting thought about him.

I had a dream about the day he was born a few nights ago. I woke up right after he was born. I woke up and still had that feeling of true love. I was so proud he was here. I was thinking I would go get John for the night.

Then I thought about it again.

It has been 3 months since John passed, and I still woke up thinking I could go see him. 

That anxiety again.

The only difference now is that I am not scared anymore. I have faced the scary part of our nightmare...saying goodbye for the last time. As of December 2016... I am angry. I am angry that it was our baby. I am angry that we didn't get more time. I am angry that in a world full of amazing people, we found a bad one. I am angry that someone did not care for my nephew like she promised she would. I am angry that the wheels of justice move so incredibly slow. I am angry that my sister is so hurt, and I cannot fix it. I am angry that she herself is afraid of the anger she feels, afraid she won't come back from it.

I am so damn angry.

The emotions are processing, and they are difficult. It is hard enough to learn to live with the heart ache...but living with that and the anger...there are no words yet.