Overreaction? Check yourself

One thing I learned after losing my son to drugs, was that everything became a threat to your children. Kids try stuff. We know this, even as much as we beg them not too, or how wonderful a kid they are. Cigarettes, vape, drinking, are all examples of things that rarely escape experimentation with teens. Most parents will sit their child down, explain the dangers and why they do not condone this behavior. Parents that have experienced loss, see a potential threat to your child that could cost the ultimate price. We see cigarettes or vape and drinking as gateways to bigger and more dangerous drugs, and we will stop this from happening! We choose penalties that outweigh the crime significantly,  and essentially make our kids afraid to talk to us. Of course,  this is not what we wanted.  We wanted to rip that from their life in a way that would prevent them from ever trying anything again! They get in that car with someone drunk, rather than call you for help. 

 This is not what we wanted. We wanted to protect you from harm. Stop a potential habit immediately, rather than watching it rip your child from you. You see drugs,  you see your child laying lifeless. 

      A lesson I have tried to teach myself, more than once. Not everything,  is worth this reaction.  A once tried cigarette,  or a vape in a school bathroom, are not likely going to take your child from you. Massive overreactions will not open up communications between you and your child. Before you say anything, as yourself, would I be this scared if I hadn't lost a child? Keep those lines open. 

Please don't Run

Today, my husband ran down the stairs with the phone.
It doesnt seem like that big of a deal, right?
If it were any other person, and their husband was running the phone down to them, they wouldn't think much of it. Hes just bringing down my phone to me, because I have a phone call.
Not me. When I heard the phone ring, and my husband run, my first thoughts went to catastrophic places. Which child !? Which family member?!  Who died!?
I nearly fell to my knees and the breath was just taken, from my chest.
All because a phone rang.
PTSD, and other panic causing mental illness is a certain after losing your child.  Anything that brings back any memories of that time, when seemingly out of place, will create the panic you felt that day. For me, it was a phone call. It could be any matter of things for someone else.
Knowing what may be coming, or what can take place before it's you, is a great way to strategize how you are going to handle when those things happen. Coping skills,  and talking to loved ones about triggers are all great ways to combat this fear. 
All I could really think of was to say, "stop running." I said it with the only breath i had in my lungs. "Please, just don't run."

My Purpose

After the loss of my son, I was trapped. I was trapped under a smoldering pile of ash that at one point was my family as a whole. When we lost a member, it felt as if the whole thing burned, like it couldn't exist with one, and burned itself to the ground. They are all here, but yet, It felt a way I could not fathom.

I laid under that pile of pain, anger, sorrow for a long time, as if the absence of pain meant I had stopped missing him, or loving him. In that pile of ash and sorrow, I had to find a purpose. A reason to rise in a world without my precious gift to it.

Of course my biggest reason is to return as a mother to my children, who needed me as they grieved. I cant say I was the best at this, but I tried. I returned to being a wife to my loving husband that was burning a candle at both ends to care for us all. Again, I'm not sure how well..but i tried.

After I had stepped out of the coals, I realized not long after, that I was not a party of one. That others like me were feeling what I feel, and they too needed to come from the ashes. I had to find a way to ease my pain, and one that would make my son feel proud. My beautiful, loving son, that had left me there in the ash.

I choose to help others from the ashes. I can only hope that I may help. I write in Hope's they reach someone that needs to hear these words. Its my purpose

A mothers love

A mothers Love

Strong is the heart of a mother to sons,
While their little and and loving and play with toy guns,
Strong is the heart of the mother to teens,
While there fighting and pushing, yelling and scream,
Strong is the heart of a mother of men,
When they go and find their one perfect gem.
Strong is the heart is the mother of Angel's,
when they leave this earth far before you
Strong is the heart of a mother
Who never stops loving you.

To my boys, Austin, Jackson, Aiden and Brice

When the "new ones" come.

I have heard of two local women in my community that have joined our "club that no one wants to join". Alot of people think, "oh...this must be so hard for you, drudging up old pain".  Its not "old pain" that surfaces, because that pain is always there, never old, and bubbling under the surface. It's not dredging up anything, because it never went away.
 What is, happening, is that we are suddenly feeling an intense and powerful familiarity.  We feel an empathy that no other can feel. We know right where she is.  We know the thoughts,  the desires to free yourself of the pain.  The moments so surreal that if it wasn't the planning, the visitors,  the service.. you would think this was just a horrible nightmare you can wake from with relief.  The surges of agony,  when you realize you wont. 
I don't mean to leave out the fathers,  who feel the pain as well.  I just do not know their perspective,  but I feel sadness for them as well. 
It's not dredging up feelings,  it's empathy for those just starting this life. I reach out immediately,  knowing she won't respond until she needs me, until she's ready.  I just have to let her know,  she's not alone.  We are mothers to angels. 

Dont change your "name"

I think it is easy, when you lose a child, to then identify yourself as a mom who lost a child. You no longer identify as aidens mom, or Brices mom, but as the mother of a passed on child. A mourning mom, a broken mom. You are all those things. Your still a mom no matter where they are, and by only identifying yourself as a mom of an angel, your immediately withdrawing from being a mom to anyone else. Your still a mom, to them all.

Trying to make him proud

This month I begin speaking at schools,  and every other venue that will take me.  I want as many people as possible to hear my son's story.  Is this going to be hard? Absolutely. I know I may cry, and I know that I will face people with strong opinions,  opposite of mine,  and yet, I'll still be there,  in hopes to reach just one. Spare just one parent,  one brother, sister,  one grandmother, spare anyone the pain my family and I have endured.  I'm in hopes that someday,  when someone finds themselves in a situation,  that Austin's name will make them take pause.  One person, and then this speach will all be worth it. Im teaching them Austin,  you would be proud.