My arms are empty and acheing...

I can’t believe I’m a mother without…

Life has been twisted and turned upside down. As a mother, I had both the wonderful privilege of holding my sweet son as I brought him into this world…and the horrible chore of holding him as he took his last breaths and left this world, at only 7 years old. June 24, 2010 he earned his angel wings, passing away after an inspiring but brief fight against Cystic Fibrosis. Now I live, solely focusing on living a life to get to be with him again in heaven, and to raise awareness for Cystic Fibrosis research. I am dedicated to a cure, not only for my sweet sons legacy but so that other CF families never experience the greatest loss of their lives that we are now facing. My mother’s arms are missing Connerman, yet he still inspires me daily to leave a mark of LOVE on this world…so for you my sweet prince, mommy will try!



Love Love Love

Always Always Always


Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Truth and Lies…

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Signing up for MOPS (Mother of Preschoolers) last May, I guess I never thought I’d be returning without Conner. It’s not like I just dropped him off at the childcare room. He was in 1st grade, so he should’ve been in school with his friends. But his illness made him home tutored last year. So he would sit at my MOPS table with me. He’d do the craft, eat a banana or drink his Boost and chat with the ladies. He’d sit in my lap. I can still feel it and picture it, how he’d sit on my lap facing outwards yet put his arm up and behind my head, a non-stop Conner hug. He needed me. I needed him. He felt safe with me. I felt safe with him.

He wasn’t there today.

These firsts are getting harder and harder. Because they aren’t always the obvious things that I know will bring sadness and pain, they often take me off guard and hit me suddenly, regardless of whose around. I have no control over the when and the how. It’s hard.

I walked into that church, that beautiful, horrible place where we’d spent so much time as a family doing Wednesday night dinners, Little K, vacation bible school, MOPS, and church…the same church we did Conner’s service at. I didn’t really think about it, I’ve been in that sanctuary a few weeks back, and that was knowingly going to be difficult and proved to be horrible and painful. But walking in the side door and turning the corner to the nursery and the man sitting there was the friendly, loving funeral director.

WHAM!

the man that took my baby out of my house for the last time.

the man that surely was there as my son was lowered into the cold ground.

the gentlest man I’ve ever met perhaps, but none the less a very difficult man to run into. I breathed a sigh of relief when he wasn’t at church a few Sundays ago, I couldn’t take it if he were there. But today…

He has never been at MOPS before, it took my breath away. My heart sank. My knees shook. Somehow I dropped off my kids and went downstairs to the meeting room. Then it hit me. This was the same room we had refreshments in after Conner’s service. The very same room that last MOPS season he sat in my arms and held me close and smiled kindly at everyone he saw. The pain overtook my heart. But by the grace of God I was able to swallow back the tears, I didn’t want to be stared at anymore than I already was. I went thru the meeting trying to smile and say hello to familiar faces but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched or that people were avoiding me. Nobody knew what to say to me, so most didn’t even say hello.

I had my picture taken for the phone directory, they asked me to verify my kids, next to Conner’s name it said (with Jesus)….so they knew, they all knew and I knew.

I made it thru craft and prayer and the kind of shockingly quiet visiting time I kept my head held as high as God would provide for me. Surely I couldn’t sit there without Him.

and then again it hit…

The ending devotional.

A prayer about new beginnings.

Life’s changes. Life’s greatest pains.

I was done for.

My friend who sat across the table from me looked me square in the eye and all i could say in front of all these relative strangers sitting with me was “i’m so sorry…”, covered my eyes and started to cry. All that built up pressure and pain overtook me. I hated being there. I wanted to go, I knew all along after Conner passed that if I don’t sign up to do SOMETHING it’d be WAY too easy to sit at home and do NOTHING. I have every excuse, but I don’t want to do this alone. I need fellowship, I need love, I need friendship, I need people. And in that moment I felt like maybe it was too soon, a bad idea to go back to this thing, this very important thing in my life…but not in my new life but in my last life with Conner. I wondered if that meant that this too will have to change? Can I possibly be strong enough to return? These poor girls sitting at my table maybe didn’t know what I knew in my heart, maybe they didn’t know my son is with Jesus now, who knows. All I know is that I already felt like people were staring, unsure of what to say, or trying not to make eye contact with me, and there I go crying. Of course I couldn’t, nor can I help when that happens…but I know it certainly doesn’t help people want to reach out to me. who knows…

i just hate this new life.

i hate that God trusts me too much to be strong.

that He thinks I can make it thru this because I don’t feel most days like I can.

I know I don’t stand a chance without Him…but I wish this wasn’t my lesson.

I wish this example and lesson wasn’t born from the death of my child.

I wish to wake up from this never ending fog and find that it was all just a bad nightmare…

but i know that i won’t…because I know that it’s not.

it’s the truth.

I guess I just wish sometimes that my truth could simply be a lie…

 

6 comments:

  1. When you describe the way Conner hugged you at MOPS, it is a familiar hug from my Kian. It must have taken so much for you to walk into the church. I can't imagine the pain of the memories flooding back. I hope you can continue to go to MOPS because of the fellowship. I will be praying for this journey for you Sarah. My heart is aching for you. I'm not sure I could be as strong as you are but I also hate that you have to go through this.

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  2. Sarah, My prayers will go up for you. I want to comfort you......but I don't have words......please know that I think of you often and pray as well.

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  3. You never know when you are going to fall apart, I don't think that will ever change. I can look at string cheese 100 times and be fine, then the next time I see the string cheese in a different light, it brings memories of the way Libby would twirl the wrapper around and around to calm herself down, and all that tape I've put over the Libby sized whole in my heart easily starts to peel.... There are obvious triggers, like I will see oxygen and wish so bad I was the one carrying an oxygen around, or see a beautiful dress and know she would have loved it, but there are also triggers that we just dont get the fore warning. I haven't been able to find a coping mechanism for this part yet. I'm at 8 months, and I will admit some days are good now, but there still are nights of sobbing. It's become a little more balanced over time, but the pain has remained the same. We're all on this new path of learning and I think it helps to share. Hugs(Thank you for commenting my Blog, I'm still learning how to do it all and just got the comment.)

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  4. Sarah, you know I have been following you from the day I heard of how strong you and Brad and Conner and Hunter and Baby B are... I don't have the right words, because I've never been in your situation, nor do I have the right condolences, because I've never dealt with this unimaginable loss. I think you are doing the best you can, and I think that you deserve to cry everyday if you choose to. Conner was your firstborn, and he is always there to guide you, and he will always be there to do so. You will go through so many firsts now, but you have to remember that Conner is still with you, With Jesus, watching you, and guiding you. You are a strong, eloquent woman, who has a beautiful family and you should not ever EVER worry that people who don't know your story would think negatively of you. This is why Conner's Angel's spread the word. Your story is a true story of love, faith, and hope. We love Conner, we have Faith in you, and we Hope for your Family's Future.

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  5. MOPS was where you were supposed to be. Sometimes when humans cannot look you in the eye it is because they are afraid they will start crying too. Believe me, Rick was crying inside for you.
    When I lost my grandmother last January. I still had to go back to her adult family home to do haircuts for the other residents. This was going to be a continuing process. Some days are worse than others. I still get a pit in my stomach every time I drive over and walk up the sidewalk.

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