4 grueling years later…

4 years ago, on November 11, 2015, I awoke to the most nightmarish trauma I will ever live and survive. I awoke to my infant son, cold and lifeless in his crib. The details for some are to hard to hear. The details for me, they are too hard to type. They play out in my mind so often that it’s enough to make a generally sane person, go insane. It was enough to grant me a diagnosis of PTSD. What I lived through that morning… from my frantic phone call to 911, to desperately trying to administer CPR to my infant son, to the turn of a corner into the lobby of my apartment building and discovering my street lined with emergency vehicles and their flashing lights, to exiting the building to follow a racing ambulance in the back of a police car to a hospital… to a Doctor sitting beside me in the private room I was taken into, sitting beside me while holding my hands and telling me that there was nothing they could do and that Brandon had been pronounced deceased. The elapsed time from waking up to hearing my son was gone, approximately 1 hour and 30 minutes. The events within that time however, felt like forever. The events within that time, will last forever within me.

What a lot of people don’t know or understand is the policies, protocols and procedures that take place after. Prolonging what has already been a terrible nightmare, into what feels like a never ending nightmare. There is an investigation that MUST occur to rule out things such as homicide, negligence etc.. There’s also a coroner who must conduct an autopsy to determine cause of death. There is no write off of any of these things, ever. You must go through the motions and that I did. From not being able to be alone from the time I was first in contact with emergency personnel (I was with a police escort at all times) until I had gone into the police station with a homicide detective who had to conduct a formal interview with me, on video, in an interview room.

My apartment was treated much like a crime scene and I had to wait for the investigators to clear it before I could even go back into it. I was in my pajamas, had none of my personal belongings such as my purse and wallet, ID or cell phone on me the entire day. Brandon’s crib mattress and his blankets together with anything within a certain amount of feet away from his crib were removed from my home. Things were removed from my living room where I had laid him to administer CPR. I’ve never attempted to get them back. There was a policy that I could not touch Brandon’s body after he was pronounced unless the coroner had lifted it. Which she did after an initial interview with me in the hospital. That was the last time I held my baby boy in my arms. I sobbed while repeatedly saying “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Brandon. I’m so sorry I failed you.” All under the watch of a homicide detective. I recall saying to him “I don’t know how you do this. See this. I don’t know how.”

Every professional I was in contact with, police officers, the homicide detective, the EMT’s, victim services and especially the coroner, they all treated me with great compassion. I never once felt I had done anything wrong by them. That wasn’t the case for my own mind and self however. Once the shock started wearing off, I really felt fault for not being able to know as a mom that something was wrong, before it was too late. A guilt I will forever carry irregardless of what the coroners report says. You never quite make peace with the “what ifs”. Or, at least I haven’t anyway. I never will because there will never be a day that feels right again without the presence of my child. The coroner contacted me after she had completed the autopsy and I was on the phone with her for over a half hour listening in depth to her explain that sometimes, things just can’t be explained and also, that there was nothing that I did or could’ve done to prevent the outcome of that day. That call to me from her is the only thing that helps me understand that I will never understand.

SIDS is the #1 leading cause of infant deaths in Canada. It takes the life of 1 of every 2,000 live-born babies in Canada. It is rare before one month of age and also after one year of age. SIDS is not the cause of death on Brandon’s coroner report. Undetermined is the word used. That is what gives his death a SIDS status. For the most part, we as humans crave definitive answers. We want the 5 W’s. It’s very difficult to negotiate peace with undetermined things. I don’t think I would have been able to make the peace I have with his death without his coroner giving me cold hard scientific facts. That helps me mentally, spiritually and emotionally along this way. I thank her beyond measure for doing what she did and emailed her telling her that.

Death and grief is a bitch. It’s a hellish path to navigate and I was slammed with 2 traumatic losses that have affected so much of my life and being in under 2 and a half years. It’s crippled me at times physically, mentally and emotionally. However, it has also given me so much more perspective. Applying it isn’t always easy and to this very day, I struggle with moving forward and facing fears. I struggle to understand so much within myself and in the environments around me. I struggle to believe I will ever find happiness and peace in the future and that the war within me with grief, will ever end. I struggle to parent my living son whom has lost the very same 2 loves as I. I’ve struggled with my mental health and suicidal thoughts and still do. I struggle. I struggle with so much more than some could ever possibly believe or understand or even take the time to hear. This shit has rocked my soul, my heart, my mind and my life to it’s core. I wish daily it was different. I wonder daily how different life would be and if the happiness and peace I seek now would be there already had I done things differently in both cases, before devastating loss turned life upside down.

I am still standing though. Still fighting. Still clinging to the hope I have that someday all the mass of grey will shift for me and us. I am grateful daily for breath. A privilege denied to many, including my 3 and half month old son. Not being able to give that breath back to him is something that reminds me how precious breath and life is.

4 years has passed, however, it will always feel like yesterday. I will never forget your first loud coo’s the night before on the phone with my mom, I will never forget singing “You are my sunshines” to you and Jackson before you closed your eyes forever. I will never forget you and I will never let your name be in vain. I may still struggle but, your life taught me so much too. I am grateful for your short physical presence and ever grateful for your reminders that you are not far. I miss you, dearly, We miss you, dearly. Forever a piece of my heart, my sweet Brandon. Jackson and I hope you and Jamie are soaring together.

On summers end…

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We are winding down summer break, all the birthdays and events that have truly made this THE best summer in my entire 41 years of existence and for reasons I am so very proud of. I’ve worked tirelessly to get and be here. However, there are 2 realities that have been largely weighing on my heart and mind amidst all this wonder of summer. One being that Brandon would’ve been starting junior kindergarten come September, and two, it’s really beginning to hit me the milestones and celebrations that Jackson will only ever share with 1 living parent. Brandon and Jamie’s absences are never far, but they are surely in my face this past week and a bit now.

Both realities punched me square in the face the morning of Jackson’s 9th Birthday while baking a cake. I prepare myself for milestone days, birthdays, ‘angelversaries’ etc etc… For example, I spent the day before and day of what would’ve been Brandon’s 4th Birthday, with my BFF, parents and another close friend beside the pool at my parent’s home. A safe and quiet space with 30 acres of land some of which holds some Brandon’s ashes. A quiet dinner and night with my Mom and Bill going into the day of his 4th birthday was exactly what my heart and soul needed. I didn’t anticipate either of these feelings rushing in and in turn was not prepared for the overwhelm of these truths. This in turn plays a wicked game with my mind than triggering my mental health, namely my anxiety as it demands I be on top of everything at all times. My day planner houses all I need to know about my schedule and what I can anticipate on a daily, weekly or monthly basis. Day planners don’t hold schedules for grief waves or emotions.

Last week, following the fun of Jackson’s birthday, for the first time all summer long, I felt the darkness of the waves of grief, my mental health and my inability to control the things I cannot control. I reminded myself daily that in order to get through, I had to move through my emotions and the physical toll it took on me. I was down with a headache (I never get headaches) for 2 days, I was getting sick and for only a moment, felt guilty as hell for being so happy all summer long and in a state of what I would call remission of my mental illnesses if not for but a moment. I have not felt such crippling anxiety since early June. I was scared again to move forward in the wake of this all doing it by myself with Jackson, knowing it’s all me and I was heartbroken that I was only sending one little boy to school come September 3, 2019. It’s all such a HUGE horsepill to swallow and it’s exhausting, even on the best of days.

I’ve visited the thoughts of single parenting on my own until Jackson is an adult, I’ve visited the thoughts of milestones that will be missed by his dad and knowing how it makes me feel let alone, how it makes Jackson feel. I than feel heavier trying to carry it for Jackson so he doesn’t have to bare the pain I know all to well when it comes to losing a person we love. I don’t want him to hurt but, that’s not very realistic at all. I want him to be 9 and live so freely and lovingly that it looks as though pain never existed for him. I’ve visited the pain of milestones my deceased son will never get to live. I’ve never felt quite so saddened by it though. Maybe because I haven’t had to face a major milestone yet like, his first day of school…. It was more about the medical milestones that would’ve come with his Down Syndrome diagnosis. Like the day they pulled his G-tube out and me realizing that milestone was a massive one. Oh how I cried at how well he had done and how far he had come in such a short time.

The key to this all, visiting them. Visiting all the thoughts and ideas of what was and could’ve been however, not staying there. I will never forget what my grief counselor, who counselled me after Brandon’s passing and again last year in the wake of Jamie’s loss said… “I would be more concerned if you WERE NOT having any of these thoughts, ideas, wondering, what if’s, that’s when I would be concerned.” I forget that I am allowed to visit the darkness, even when I’m feeling the light of living on and within myself. I sometimes forget the trauma of a fateful morning in 2015 that profoundly changed my life. I forget that I am allowed to have ‘down’ days within this freeing feeling of living again rather than just surviving the day. But, I do just survive some days. I do feel so much pain and emptiness even at the best of times and that makes me human. That’s the premise and point of my blog. This afterglow of life after surviving what in the loss community is called ‘the unimaginable’. After surviving trauma.

I have written before and will write it again that I would not be where I am today without a massive support system personal and professional. Though all the work is done by ourselves, it cannot be done alone. I can count on one hand how many people in my life truly ‘get it’. I’ve lost friendships, possible relationships, job opportunities and the list goes on solely because of my mental health and the amount of grief I carry and will carry for life. Dating is an utter joke in the wake of this all, another blog for another day and oh the hilarity of that all. I am of the opinion that those were not the people or places for me. My life is better without having to pretend to be what I am not. I will never be that person for anyone. I’d much rather be alone than give to anyone who cannot respect the person I am and why I am that person. No one has to understand our specifics, but, they can respect our realities. Never settle for anything less than that. Any thing less is surviving and I choose to live rather than just survive and remember, on any given day, at any given time, it’s ok to not be ok!!

A massive shout out to my BFF, my person, my sister from another Mister, the one who truly gets me and all of my shit… Lisa A…aka Hooker… for living right along with me in ways I have not in years this summer… From hospital visits to Sarah McLachlan at Jackson Triggs to farm days by the pool and all nighters filled with laughter for the ages… Here’s to sooo very many more together!!! What would I do without you… #oliveyouhooker

On Father’s Day…

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At any given time I have anywhere from 10-20 ‘quick memos’ on my phone where I have jotted down a self epiphany or thought I need to express. Those memos usually make their way into my writing and are a guide for me on topics I want to write about for the most part. However, I have been working on 4 different blog subjects for over a month now and feel so much blockage and difficulty articulating what I actually want to say to make it readable and understandable for those who may not necessarily get the depths to which mental illness, grief, addiction and just life in general can take us. Father’s Day. A blog I started working on and just can’t quite seem to loop together but, here goes anyway…

Coming into this Father’s Day weekend has not gone as flawlessly as I had hoped. It’s another stain and reminder on what the reality of our household is. That I am the ONLY parent and Jackson, well, he misses his dad because he is no longer physically here. So, we try and celebrate with his sisters to remember the good, rather than focus on the pain of what is missing. Loving all the things we had, knew and loved about Jamie. Keeping his memory alive in my home is something that will never die, until the day I do.

Parenting is hard. No matter what the situation and even in the best of circumstances. Parenting is a full time job on it’s own. Jackson and I ran into a bump last week where, to make a complicated and essentially all is ok story, short, we had to take a step back, yet again, in a somewhat harsh way, where we have to visit the places issues may be stemming from. Is it general childhood growing pains or is this a manifestation of the amount of loss and grief this 8 year old boy has endured? I question my parenting. Am I doing enough? Is he coping worse than I thought? Did I miss something? What can I do to shift this into positive moving forward? That’s only 5 of the 1,0000,0000 questions I had run rampant through my mind over the past week or so, on any given day really. I cried, I slept, I was frustrated, I got angry. Angry at the entirety of the situation we are in to begin with. Parenting is hard. But, parenting on my own, knowing that Jamie’s hand will never be physically present again in the way I had always envisioned it would be for our son, well, that shit just winds you.

My parents separated when I was 9. I will never forget a day where upon driving us home after a visit, my father flat out said to us “I am your part time father now.” Years later I understood the selfishness of this statement but, what was the cost for his poor attitude towards parenting us 3 children? Well that’s another blog, another day however, it didn’t help my situation at all because those words essentially fell into not him being a father at all and absence of integral figures in our lives can and will effect us. The only consistent visitation my father upheld was when he was with a woman (RIP Patty) who was a single mom and looking back, I know she got it which is why we had that time. She helped try and assist not only my father but us to establish a new normal outside of our parents divorce. When that relationship fizzled, so did visitations with my father and he sank into the neck of a beer bottle for good in my view. My father was not present the way he should and could have been. And it angers me to levels sitting at 41 knowing this all while watching my 8 year old boy who cannot even attempt to visit a physical being. It breaks me into pieces.

I’ve been blessed with Bill, my loving step-dad who has given so much to myself, my children, his grandchildren and who always boosts me in this journey and doesn’t scold me for having a shitty past with poor choices and mistakes. He’s more proud I admit them than anything. I love him as if he was my own dad and tell him that every chance I get because I have learned so very harshly that everything can change in the blink of an eye. He means the world to our family that Papa Bill and for every shit choice he may make or has made, his heart bleeds more love and compassion than the negative any day. Bill and I have a very unique relationship and I respect and love him more than he will probably ever know. He is my adopted dad. You are one character and a half but, I love you so much, Bill.

I know dads pulling double duty as both parents and for so many different reasons. I know dads who do it on their very own, I know dads who are amazing dads regardless of a marriage or relationship ending. I know dads who fight to be every part of their children’s lives no matter what the situation or cost. I’m a dad now too and I feel like I’m failing at it to levels so throw me some dad advice, dads! A father figure is such a needed piece of growing up. They do things I as a mom never would be able to do, like take a fish off a hook for example. I will worm a hook and catch but someone release it for me! It’s much like life for me as a double duty parent. Bait it, but can I really execute the whole deal? Nope, because I will never be able to take that fish off that hook without assistance. I’m a mom who was thrown into the world of being the only living parent and I sometimes need assistance in the daily struggles we can face.

To all the dads out there who tirelessly work so hard, just like us moms, keep going! Keep doing what you’re doing and thank you for being better than my dad. Soak up every second of fatherhood because again, everything can change, in a heartbeat. Show respect for the dads that fight battles to even see their children, to the dads who are smashing stigmas against the deadbeats. I applaud you all!!!

To Jamie… we miss you. To places and corners no one would ever look or know. WE MISS YOU. We will celebrate you always and especially this Sunday. There will never be another Jame. Not ever. Never stop showing me you’re hand is here, even though I may not see it. I still hear you laugh, I still see you walking up to that fire pit. I’m grateful for the childhood and life stories you shared with me, the memories and laughter I get to share with our son because of how good the good was. Forever a piece of my heart you are and always would’ve been, no matter what. You are missed beyond measure by 4 beautiful ‘mini-you’ humans who also hold a very special piece of my heart forever too.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dad’s, to Bill, to Steve, to Jamie. The dads that showed me that being a dad is never a part time gig.

On moving forward…

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I’ve recently and FINALLY begun the journey into continuing education, namely focusing on bereavement and loss support. I have so many hopes and dreams in these next steps and a very passionate fire within myself to support those who suffer, just like I have. It is bittersweet to finally be back in a place that isn’t riddled in a pea soup thick, grief fog that prohibits me from taking on any type of new information. There are only some of you that will understand exactly what that means. Be grateful if you don’t know the depths of pea soup thick, grief fog. This is something that those of us who have swam in the dark depths of, wish upon no one.

Currently, I am studying a MOOC (massive open online course) and for some, the name of this course itself, may be deterrent enough to scare the shit out of a curious learner. “Grief MOOC – How grief can empower or kill us”. As a griever and one that doesn’t take things too literally or to heart, I knew this course was for me immediately because grief HAS almost killed me. Grief HAS, on 2 occasions, stripped me of everything I once knew and it felt like I was dead inside. It has blown my world apart in ways some will never understand or respect because, the fact of the matter is, our society sucks when it comes to learning and speaking about grief and death and loss and the tolls it can take on the living… mentally, physically, emotionally and in our surrounding environments in general.

In studying the first few chapters, I was blown away at the fact that I have experienced at least 6 forms of grief in a time frame of 2 years and 3 months. From traumatic or sudden to disenfranchised grief and it’s been heavy enough that I landed myself a permanent role in grief known as “Complicated or Persistent Complex Bereavement Disorder”. That doesn’t include secondary losses either and those rushed in like raging river waters and flooded equally as the primary loss. No wonder I envisioned myself hanging from that tree last fall, right!? No wonder. But, I didn’t, I didn’t let it kill me.

So, what about the empowerment? I consider myself a very lucky human being that had the ability to still hear her gut when her gut spoke that it was time for more help at one of my worst and most shameful times. I could’ve laid down in the aftermath of my baby boys death, let it kill me and society would’ve accepted it because no wonder I was a mess right? “She lost her baby, I’d be drunk too, in fact I’d probably kill myself” was one thing I heard along the way. Pretty empowering, right? I was definitely on that path however and truly began to not give a shit. I had someone telling me I was horrible person and mom, that I deserved to lose my son in the months leading up to the incident which helped me to admit my realities and live my truths. I quickly realized under the support of caring professionals and my own self reflection, NONE of that was true of myself and that not a single opinion of me, good or bad, mattered but, that of myself. Self discovery and re-learning myself and life itself has empowered me. Self awareness is empowering!!

I could have conceded to all the negatives that life and death seem to sometimes be. Concede to the negative that death is the end and losing Brandon and than Jamie so sudden and traumatically could and should have killed me. Is that what Brandon and Jamie would want for me, for me to be for Jackson? To concede to life because I’ve lost? Absolutely not! Those 2 are surrounding us cheering us on louder than some of the living humans in our lives! Sad but true. Jamie was always one of my biggest supporters, even the last phone conversation we had less than 2 hrs before his being would leave this earth, he was cheering me on and I him in the next chapters we were about to take. Over a year later and the pain of that conversation has turned into an empowerment on parenting our son. Hope, laughter, support, beautiful friends and family and professional supports who believe so damn much in me, that empowers me! Brandon, he empowered me. He gave my life back at the cost of his and there is an unscripted beauty there that no one else in this world has to understand but, myself and that empowers me into places I never dreamed of.

I have my Mom to thank for A LOT of the positive, strong and courageous qualities I seem to carry. I watched this woman raise 3 children, all who played rep baseball province wide, while she still played ball herself. She had a corporate career in the 80-90’s dealing with ignorant corporate men as a warranty department manager, not to mention the turmoil my almost non existent father would throw her and our way once in awhile. Resilience, strength and courage is an apple I bit off my mom’s tree. We have and probably will still butt heads at times, however, if it wasn’t for her and what she did for her own self so many years ago, I truly don’t believe I would be half as resilient or courageous otherwise. I don’t often say it Mom, but, thank you for everything you did for us 3 kids. Knowing and seeing what you did to keep moving forward, the importance of it is so very clear in the chaos and I use it to empower myself moving forward, just like I watched you do for so many years.

To all the beautiful humans that have helped empower me along this way.. Mom, Lisa (my best hooker), Lisa B, Lynn (my hobbit), Susan A, Marilyn O, Pam, C, Jenny B, Gillis, Roger B, Lee and Di, Christine, Kim, Kirsten, my entire day treatment team, Corah, Bailey, Talea, Jen… I’m sure I’ll think of a few names after this is published too… Thank you! I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. I am grateful, I am empowered!!

“At any given moment you have the power to say, this is not how the story is going to end” – Unknown

For some, ignorance is bliss…

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A knock at my door this week gave me quite the mind trip afterward. Two Jehovah’s witnesses came to my door and at the time I thought nothing of it. When I opened the door to them (a male and female), the male immediately handed me a pamphlet and said “We’re inviting you to the death of Jesus.” I said a very robotic, “Thanks” took the pamphlet and closed my door not processing what was said, I just wanted these door knockers off my porch no matter what their sell was. Not 10 mins later, it registered to me that I was just invited to death. WTF?!?

My immediate reaction was to run down the road and ask if their approach had any consideration for what my life environment may be and tell them that if they were trying to ‘recruit’ me, so to speak, their flair for empathy, was the most ignorant I had seen. Religious beliefs aside.

I did not grow up in a religious home. My parents were not church going people. I was on baseball diamonds Sundays, either playing myself or watching my mom, sister, brother. NFL Sundays. Those were my Sundays. I’ve always struggled with religion and recently have contemplated trying to go into a church just to see how it makes me feel. To see if it does or has potential to help on some level. For myself and Jackson. My battle with a higher power has been an interesting one to say the least lately. I’m just not sure after all the shaking up of shit, what exactly I’m believing in again sometimes. Pieces are missing and though I am coping, I do know I need more. So does Jackson. Continuous learning is never a bad thing. It’s a touchy thing, religion. I’m an open thinker and believer for the most part. That we all bleed the same colour blood and that empathy bleeds love. Even if we disagree.

Ignorance is bliss to some. It can kill a lot. It has and does. From war to politics, personal relationships, the list goes on. Ignorance killed hope for me last year. I refuse to let it again. People are ignorant jerks sometimes. I concede to understand that I don’t have to agree or engage with those people. Boundaries are a great tool to have for that. Especially a physical one like a door that allows me to close the invitation to the death of Jesus at 10 a.m. on a Tuesday morning.

Ignorance has closed my heart off to a lot, made me hyper vigilant and given me a cold and dark sense of humour at times. I do not allow ignorance inside whenever possible. Be with those who are good for you, they say. I think ignorance has somewhat stolen my spontaneity, sense of security and even the ability to open myself intimately to any one or thing. There’s more, I’m sure. That’s where the missing really show to me though. It’s hard to process and heal through it all while parenting a grieving little boy as well. We don’t need ignorance. We, need love and understanding.

The Four agreements are such a simple moral ground base for me…

Be impeccable with your word
Don’t take anything personally
Don’t make assumptions
Always do your best

Basic life skills. 101. Thank you, Don Miguel Ruiz.

To the Jehovah witnesses that brought death to my door, no offense to you or your religious beliefs, but, Screw you!! We will be declining your invitation. I watched real death, it’s been at my door twice in very traumatic ways. It profoundly changed my everything and I don’t feel your religion is what I need to help me feel whole again. I’m almost inclined to send your organization a complaint but, I strongly feel it will fall on ignorant eyes and you’d still just try and push your beliefs on my situational needs so, I’ll find something more constructive to do with my time.

For now, my religion is love, kindness and empathy. I may be somewhat at war with my higher power, however, those 3 beliefs within myself will never change. We should celebrate and believe that we all are allowed to have our own higher power, whether or not we agree with others beliefs, or not. Whether its a religious belief or an opinion of the ignorant… you can have your say however, people do not have to listen nor do they have to care. Don’t be ignorant. Be open always to understand that we may all not ever find understanding, but, we can still be kind and respect difference. We can also appreciate those differences in peace. Life is a kaleidoscope of views.

Those Designer Genes…

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This past few weeks, my son Brandon has been so present in my mind and thoughts. He always is, however, these thoughts aren’t the ‘norm’.

March 21 or 3/21 marks World Down Syndrome Day. Brandon was born with Trisomy 21, better known as, Down Syndrome. I celebrate this day with family, friends and professionals worldwide and always will. They have all been touched in some way by one simple, little, extra chromosome. Just like how Brandon’s short life with DS, touched mine.

Getting Brandon’s diagnosis… terrifying. Life changing. A month at McMaster Children’s hospital, in and out of the NICU after emergency surgery to repair a duodenal atresia, issue after issue, all while trying to absorb that I was now the mother of a child with a disability and there were no if, and’s or buts about it. Brandon would always have Down Syndrome. Wrapping my brain around that was not difficult, but, it was taxing. I started researching the crap outta DS, found the Down Syndrome Association of Hamilton and joined support groups via social media and was welcomed into a world of human beings who supported and cared beyond borders. A virtual family of support for this new life path we were now embarking on. Overwhelming support and visions of success in what in the ‘old days’ of DS seemed impossible. I was getting messages from parents young and old about how much their lives had changed for the good when that extra chromosome came into their life. I managed to gather it all together and was able to envision a productive and successful life for my sweet boy. I had hope in heaping loads and felt the strongest purpose I had ever felt in my life. A new path had been paved.

My recent thoughts have been around all the beautiful things I envisioned for my sweet boy and all the milestones we will never get to or celebrate. I mean, we didn’t even make it to his first birthday. It was gut wrenching, soul crushing and devastating to see the new path I thought we were paving, GONE. Literally, overnight. The solid stepping stones were ripped from beneath me and everything I thought I was doing and knew was gone. All the dreams, wishes and aspirations, GONE. I felt I had failed as a mom. I luckily had a coroner who took the time to make very clear to me that no matter what, there was nothing that I could have done. This wasn’t my fault. Had I gone left not right the day before etc, it could not and would not have changed the fact that SIDS takes the lives of infants without any known cause. In the wake of Brandon’s passing, I struggled desperately with the why. What was the purpose, his purpose? Brandon became a catalyst for my recovery and I made peace with my own thought that his purpose was to remind me that I still have purpose and I ran with it and had massive success.

It’s been so difficult walking a path of heavy grief again. I’ve been here. I did this already and I’ve been so angry at times knowing I’m again grieving and feeling like I’m not progressing forward after all the exhausting and deep digging I did to be able to keep moving forward in the first place. I keep thinking to myself over and over again, be all the things you loved about the person you lost. I am desperately trying to be, trust me! My mental health gets in the way sometimes and I’ve had some ridiculous hiccups from asshole humans along the way since early 2018, however, feeling like you’re running to stand still and doing all the work all over again that you thought you already did… It made me want to give up. Than I see my thoughts about Brandon, all the milestones I grieve for us to not celebrate with him, all the strength and endurance he showed me through being poked and prodded in his first 35 days of life. How can I give up on me when I would never have given up on him. No different than any of my children. Especially Jackson. What is me giving up going to serve into our already torn apart world? Nothing, except more pain and my Jackson has endured enough loss already, just like me.

I’m re-drawing lessons, strengths, thoughts from Brandon’s passing and the aftermath. I’m remembering to keep on fighting just like he did. To be courageous, like him. To hit milestones and celebrate them because had I not had my experience with Brandon, I may not truly know just how momentous they are or how my designer genes which are rich in mental health diagnosis make me my very own designer gene rockstar, just like him. I remind myself that I can endure, just like he did. I have endured and I am still standing despite it. When you awake to a lifeless child in their crib and frantically go into panic racing for a phone to dial 911, desperately trying to put breath back into your child, well, that changes you, just a wee bit and it’s enough to break you. Facing a second traumatic loss has just complicated things but, I’m still navigating while standing and I have Brandon to thank for that. Without his life, his lesson that different is beautiful, that courage and strength come in some of the smallest packages, I would not be here today. I found beauty within unimaginable pain and it can be done in any and all situations and scenarios if only we are patient enough to allow the stepping stones to fall where they may, on their own.

Thank you, to my Rockstar Brandon. You were and still are a gift and person I draw so much from. You never steer me wrong. We miss and love you, so very much. These next steps for me are dedicated to you. I love you, my sweet Brandon.

To learn more about World Down Syndrome Day click here:

https://www.worlddownsyndromeday2.org/about-wdsd

It’s fitting…

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Today, is #BellLetsTalk day here in Canada and though my blog is still ‘under construction’, I feel it all too fitting to share it with the world today.

I am the face of mental illness. I have 4 mental health illnesses that impede on how I live my life daily and slap some massive grief on top of that and we have, me. I may struggle, however, I do everything possible to find the light in the dark, the beauty within pain, the afterglow of my life after loss and mental health diagnosis’. And laughter, well, it’s just one of the best medicines out there.

I work diligently to cope and understand. I also work hard to make my story heard. If my story can help just one, just one person, reach out, talk , live their truth, than I have succeeded.

The stigmas that come with mental illness have consequences beyond what some of us could ever imagine. The consequences of living in shame or fear that stigmas around mental health can cause, they are fatal and not just physically. Stigma, it can take our heart, but, also our souls. To some of the darkest places. In the depths of darkness, I have found corners of darkness within myself I never knew existed. They lead to suicide ideation, isolation from any type of support, professional or personal and the list goes on and on and on.

Speaking my truth to not only the world, but also, to myself, it helped save me. It also allows me to live my truth, unapologetically, every single day. I still struggle in the stigmas that have held me back in the past few years, but I have a ‘0 fucks given’ attitude towards the shamers or blamers. I know my truths and I don’t have to justify them to anyone!

I was 38 years old when my truths fell. Time lost is a lesson learned, they say. It just makes me that much more passionate about living life at 40 and how I want to move forward in peer work with others who suffer just as I have and continue to learn, heal and grow within my mental health.

If you suffer, reach out! I assure you, I am only here today because of my strength and courage to do just that and you can do it to!!!

My name is Lindsay Beal and I am the face of mental health.

The 4th year at 41…

4 years ago, my life changed in ways I never imagined it could. On July 29th, 2015, I gave birth to a baby boy who, has come to be the catalyst for a life of betterness. Body, mind and soul, for myself and anyone I come into contact with. He was a catalyst for that when he was here, physically, and though I thought I knew the rocky road we ahead in the world of Down Syndrome, I surely had no idea the real road I would face when I awoke the day he passed away and physically left our lives.

I have so many people say to me all the time, “You’re so strong, I don’t know how you do it”.. etc etc… Courage. I am a brave woman who refused to let the abyss swallow me when I wanted to just die. Because, I did, just want to die. The courage to continue and endure is what makes us stronger. I faced every pain and truth within myself and was real and raw and began, little by little, to gain understanding of myself, my illnesses and my grief and the list goes on. It’s a ripple effect in positive ways into almost every piece and aspect of life when we can admit our truths and live real within them. Just as my grief or mental illness touched every part of my life, so did the healing and positive that came from a better sense of self and, just a ‘wee’ bit of profound loss to remind me that I am still here and have survived trauma and what I will say are THE 2 worst days of my life. I am grateful and blessed for surviving. Gratitude, humility…. empathy.. 3 things that have enriched my life for the better and I am again, so grateful and blessed to understand just how much more powerful they are than self-entitlement, selfishness and ignorance.

Brandon’s loss paved the way for me to understand how to live better, live real and without any justification to anyone but, myself. Brandon’s journey in his short time, reflects exactly what I had to do, to get my life together and back. He endured major surgery at 72hrs old, struggled in and out of the NICU, had holes in his heart, struggled for breath at times however, he had the courage to fight and continue through what came to be his hardest days and what an impression that made on me, in healing and recovery. I had holes in my heart and soul while gasping for breath to find a better way to survive and be. Hindsight is always 20/20. I learned during that healing to live in the moment and create boundaries so I stopped living in hindsight. Mindful of everything around me. Allowing and giving positive only and boundaries…. oooooh the boundaries I’ve learned to NEVER waiver on, ever again.

I also learned never to waiver on the fact that there is no set schedule for my grief, I’ve made peace with the ever fluent waves that come crashing and I also learned to be patient and kind to myself and do what needs to be done to keep moving forward, even if that means I’m not progressing as fast as I’d like. In the wake of Jamie’s passing, I lost sight of that and began to fall into the swallows of grief and now carrying more grief than I could ever have imagined I would again, for Brandon, for Jamie and for my Jackson who lost those same 2 humans we both loved so dearly. Life was put on hold again last year and coming into 41, I turned to my best friend and wondered when it all becomes just an excuse to not progress at all. But, I am progressing. I’m still picking up the pieces to continue building the foundation I have had to rebuild.

I take a step back and remind myself what I have survived and be kind to myself and all those who love and support me for just getting it. I’ve taken this summer as a “0 fucks given” deal and have lived and laughed with some truly incredible people who make my life better. I’ve met a few more awesome people who have let me in and shared and vice versa and it’s such a wonderful feeling to know, that not one of them lays judgement or expectation. I’m blessed.

This blog is for my beautiful boy. My sweet Brandon who rocked his designer genes and showed me what brave looks like, how to endure and keep on breathing… It is for him because if I had not watched and felt his breath leave his body, under my lips, I would not have the gratitude and appreciation that I do for breath and life today. You and your purpose is embedded in my life and how I live everyday and I despise how it came to be however… I know this is that path that was paved and I keep on walking.

I love and miss you dearly, my Rockstar. Happy 4th Birthday above. I hope you are soaring.

On Mother’s Day..

This day is such a painful day for so many woman who have suffered the unimaginable pain of child or pregnancy loss, woman who struggle to even conceive and for both the men and woman who have lost their beloved mom. Strained mother/child relationships, Dads who pull double duty as mom in the absence of one. Special days such as this, Mother’s Day, can play with your mind and healing and it certainly did me this past week.

I prepare in advance mentally around, birthdays, death anniversaries and all dates I see as pivotal in my own grief. This year, 2 days I didn’t really prep for (I found I didn’t need to in past years) have kicked me in the gut and winded me. World Down Syndrome Day, and this day. Mother’s Day.

It’s very possible that I may have triggered my own self in agreeing to do an interview with CTV News journalist Graham Slaughter, whom has published a story encompassing loss around Mother’s Day, but, I would be a fool to not speak and bring awareness to the millions of people worldwide who don’t necessarily celebrate this day, but rather, grieve a little more, a little harder.. For us, this day sucks!

You will never ever replace the absence of the beloved one we lost. That absence is so very present 5 days later, 50 years later. It will never dissipate. This is where the ignorance of the world sometimes takes my breath away and for so many reasons. From parents who are separate and struggle to co-parent children in a healthy, effective manner that makes it about the children, NOT themselves, to the ones who take for granted the fact they have that other parent to help them out at all because, not only do I know the pain of my child’s absence, I know the pain of being the only living parent. It’s the scariest shit I’ve ever done in my life. Be the only living parent. My oh my how trivial and selfish some things look when the big picture really hits home. Hindsight is always 20/20 they say. For a person such as myself, it’s a ripple effect into every aspect of life.

I wrote this 1 year ago today and plastered it to my personal Facebook page… “It’s pretty safe to say that in 19yrs of being a mom, this is the first time I have felt so much fear, anxiety and intimidation about being a mom.
It was one thing to embrace mothers day as a ‘loss mom’, its another to embrace it as a mom who is now the only living parent.
The fear of failure is strong and the anxiety of keeping it together so I can continue to hold the pieces of his world together, is beyond words one of the most difficult challenges I have ever faced.
Tonight, Jackson comforted me. Asking if I’m ok and telling me it’s ok to miss his dad and that he comes to see us in the trees that surround us as a cardinal. Jackson showed me just how good I am doing as his mom. He’s embracing trauma and tragedy because of how I perceive loss and grief and how I have relayed that with him.
Tonight, I wasn’t so scared, because of the loving and kind boy that Jamie and I have raised. We did good, Jame! And I’m gonna keep killing it like you told me to!” There is absolutely nothing I would change about any of what I wrote. Except, I would apologize to not only my children and Jamie and his children for being such a selfish jerk in some cases on so many occasions. Live and learn.

The fear and anxiety has lessened, but, it’s still there. Expectation of myself to absolutely crush it parenting Jackson is through the roof, always. Not 3 mornings ago we sat in our bathroom getting ready for our days and had to both stop and sit and talk about how we are working together and why, because we have lost so much and we are all we have to rely on daily. What I wouldn’t give, to go back though, I love the beauty I have found, but nothing will every replace the beauty of what we have lost. So take a look around yourself and before you be a ‘Richard’ of the world to someone, think of the impact of their absence. Find the value of what really matters in the bigger picture because everything can change, in the blink of an eye, overnight. I know it does. I put my son to bed in his crib and awoke not 5hrs later and began a fight for breath that continues to haunt me to this day. I put my other son to bed one night and the next morning had to look him in the eye and tell him his father died. Be kind, give love, it doesn’t matter what you get back. Give goodness and respect. Hug your mom, children and loved ones so tight today and everyday for you never know it could be the very last time.

To all moms today, Happy Mothers Day.

https://www.ctvnews.ca/lifestyle/grieving-on-mother-s-day-how-to-cope-after-loss-1.4417667