Not sure what to name this

This was a post that I made elsewhere and it was recommended that I blog it, so that is what I’m doing.

This post actually started out as a comment on the other thread until it sort of didn’t stop once I started typing. Sooooo, rather than clutter up someone else’s thread, I just cut and pasted it here. Please forgive my jumping around… I’m emotional right now, not so much logical.

I, too, am a member of the club that no one asks to join. In 2012, our almost four year old son died unexpectedly in his sleep. We still have no explanation. I have an autopsy report that leaves more questions than answers. We have our suspicions but no way to prove it. Google the Indy Star article on Elias Hause if you want.

I hate the angel references as well… angel, angelversary, the day my ___ got his/her wings, etc. They make me cringe each and every time. Oddly enough, the grief support groups I found on Facebook just wound up annoying me more than anything because the vast majority of them held onto this belief that one day they would be reunited with their deceased love one. I wasn’t too sure what I believed but I didn’t think that the existence of a heaven was a guaranteed thing.

The worst, however, was my then-sil who – that same fucking day he died!! – made the comment, through tears of course, that God must have needed him more than us. I know she “meant well” but that pissed me off. I’d been on the fence for some time but that just pissed me off to no end. I decided right then and there that, fuck any so-called God that could do or would do such a thing to anyone.

Don’t even get me started on people who “mean well”. *eyeroll* Don’t compare the death of your parent or your fucking pet to the death of my son. Just. Fucking. Don’t. While those who had a sibling die come closer, unless you’re a parent who lost a child, or a grandparent who lost a grandchild, you most likely  have ZERO idea what I’m going through. Hell, I don’t profess to know exactly what my husband is going through and vice versa. I just wanted to say to everyone, “Repeat these words after me: ‘I’m so very sorry for your loss’ and that’s it.” From that point on, you can offer a hug or hold me, you can offer to make supper, bring cookies, bring balloons for the kids, but just stop talking at that point because all you’ll do is put your foot in your mouth and piss me off or make me cry. Maybe both.” I never did say that to anyone, of course, but I sure wanted to.

And that whole “loss” thing? Yeah, my son’s not some goddamn car keys that I misplaced. He was my son. He died, for fuck’s sake. Just deal with it; I have to. 

Granted, I was raised super religiously so you can probably imagine the tremendous guilt I feel over my own feelings and thoughts. But, again, I can’t really think of too many worse ways to be punished so….

I will say that, when I expressed this to the minister (my in-law’s pastor) that did the service, he got a bit angry. So much so that he made a point of incorporating into his sermon how this wasn’t God needing Elias more than us, that this was just a tragic happenstance that had nothing whatsoever to do with God. I hadn’t expected him to do that, but it was damned beautiful. 

Anyway, I’m going to end here because I’m falling apart in my freaking office and that’s just not cool.

Mom and daughter concert

On Wednesday, Ceili Fey and I attended the Shawn Mendes concert, courtesy of the troop and all the Girl Scout cookies they sold.

While it wasn’t her first concert – this was actually her third – it was our first together.





While the opening act really sucked, the main act wasn’t too horrible. And we had a good time together.

How am I doing?

I’ve had some people ask recently how I’m doing. Honestly? I’m not doing well. My mom… well, she still has a terminal illness. My father just started dialysis. My children are so horribly behaved that I hate to take them in public. I hope I don’t sound like a drama queen here but I’m currently hating life right now. I’m under so much stress I don’t even know what to do with myself. My bp has been high. I’m not sure if my home bp cuff is right but I got 150/101 with a pulse of 89 a couple of hours ago.

I’ve thought for some time that Henry has Selective Mutism, no doubt there, but now I’m starting to think that he has some sensory issues as well. He’s got major issues with loud noises and, most recently, smells. He also flies off the handle over nothing. If he gets pissed, we’re liable to have to listen to something along the lines of “I want to watch Numberjacks. I want to watch Numberjacks….” repeated non-stop for very long periods of time – sometimes he’s gone about an hour before he either (finally) got distracted or fell asleep. And it’s truly as though he cannot stop once he gets started. At least, not easily. It’s not uncommon for him to throw things at people. Sometimes we’re able to distract him, but it’s bad. Bad, and seemingly getting worse. He’s supposed to start pre-k here shortly and I’m getting a bit concerned that he’s going to do something to cause issues there.

On top of that, I really miss Elias. There are so many times that I think of him and wonder what he’d have been like. Would he like the same things Noah does? Would he be into something else entirely?

I do have something positive to report. Friday night, Calvin slept the entire night (with Henry) in another room. That’s unheard of. Normally, on the rare occasion he falls asleep anywhere else, he wakes up, cries frantically, and comes running for our room. So, that’s something, right? Especially since we’re planning to switch rooms around so that all three of the dudes have the larger bedroom. This room switch might actually work after all. Keep your fingers crossed for us.

On grieving

Here are some funny things about grief. There’s nothing “normal” about it. It’s frequently ugly, and never is it tied up with a pretty bow. No matter how badly you want it to be. That’s hard on both the one suffering from a loss as well as those who interact with that person because the ones interacting are frequently – though not always – made very uncomfortable by the grief-stricken person.

Grieving people do so differently. You probably won’t grieve the same way I do and vice versa. And, guess what? That’s okay, too. I’ll let you in on a little secret here and it’s that you only think you know how you’d grieve in another’s circumstance.

The death of a child catapults a parent or parents into a totally different world. Everything is the same, yet different.

As long as you’re not harming yourself or others, there’s no wrong way to grieve. None.