The Pink Pills Make Me the Happiest

He Was My Child

Yesterday, I discovered that you can find absolutely anything on the internet.

By anything, I mean gravesites.

It completely caught me off guard when a close girl friend emailed to tell me about this website, and that my Elijah was there. It’s hard to describe the emotions that went through me as I looked up his name and sure enough, there was a picture of his headstone.

A person that doesn’t know my family, went to the Babyland section of the cemetery and took a picture of my son’s grave and then uploaded it online. It just strikes me as odd and I can’t pinpoint why. It makes me feel as if Elijah was just a granite headstone and that makes me uncomfortable.

He was so much more than that piece of carved rock in the ground.

Elijah would be 13 years old as I sit and type this blog. It is stunning to say that number out loud because if I close my eyes, his NICU incubator is as clear as if I am standing over him. His miniscule body that fit into the palm of my hand, his enormous brown eyes, the black hair that covered his entire body; these are all images that I can reach out and touch.

My lips can feel the softness of his thick, curly jet black hair as I brushed my mouth across his tiny head. I miss him. Every single day of my life. 

My life would have been dramatically different had he lived and I know Caleb would never have been born. Certainly, I can’t imagine my life without Caleb. I would like to believe that, despite their arguments, Isaiah can’t imagine his life without Caleb either. In some way, I feel like Elijah’s death allowed our family to grow in a way that otherwise would have been impossible.

There are various lessons from his death that, with the distance of time, I try to carry out in my life. After 13 years, I feel like I am able to comfort someone in their grief and metaphorically, walk in their shoes. When Elijah died, people told me all those “God” things that are meant to be comforting in a time of grief. “God needed him in heaven”, “God does everything for a reason”, “It was Gods will”. The biggest lesson his death taught me was that those things are NOT comforting to hear.

While I no longer know where I stand on the whole “god” thing, I know his spirit is with me. Secretly, part of me hopes I am wrong about heaven and that I will see him again someday. If not, I know I did the right thing by not prolonging his pain. Out of all of the lessons, that was the one that makes me feel like my time as his mother was not in vain. As his Nanny said to me “Quantity of life is not quality of life.”

The last 13 years have been an incredible ride through the stages of grief and without a doubt, acceptance is a wonderful place. For a terribly long while, I did not believe I would ever reach this place. There was a stretch of time where I was living life in a way that disgraced everyone. I worried what his brothers would think of me but also what he would think.

Elijah’s death should have made me a better person, period. Yet, I was living as if I wasn’t a mother at all. Now that my life is in order, I hope all of my boys are proud of me. As my dear friend Kirsten said to me, “You’re living your life in such a way that you know you could spread out your life for Elijah knowing that he would nod and say, ‘Yep, that’s my Mama, and I love her.’”

I am at peace with his death but oh how I wish he were here with me. Despite my life now, the lessons I learned and my sweet Zay & Kk, I wish he had lived. I wonder who he would be today. Would you look like Caleb (who is the spitting image of the father that they share)? Would he act like Isaiah (who has my personality, wise cracks & all)?

He will always be 24 days old and perfect. I am sure his brothers are envious of that sainthood. A part of me died when he passed away in my arms, but now, thirteen years later, I am finally back to life. Life has never tasted, smelt, felt or looked quite this amazing. Thank you, Elijah, for the honor of being your mother.


Comments on: "He Was My Child" (16)

  1. god bless you, and elijah,you will meet again, elijah is with you now, cant you feel him.he has opened your heart and will continue to do so, life is eternal.

  2. Hi,
    I cried as I read this post. I nearly lost one of my sons to a cot death when he was just a couple of weeks old. What made hubby go to the cot as he was turning blue we will never know. I thank God everyday he let him live.
    You are so very brave to write about this and share your inner thoughts
    Better go…the mascara is now seriously impairing my vision.

    Love your blog
    Take care

    • Thank you for reading and I am sorry that I made you cry. (But sorta happy too because that means my words touched you, which is what I was hoping for). I have been writing about Elijah for years, in some sense, it keeps the memories fresh for me.


  3. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by mike jordan. mike jordan said: RT @TheHunnyB: He Was My Child: <– a tribute to my child, gone but not forgotten. […]

  4. I feel like i’m always commenting on your posts. I guess I just want to let you know I’m always reading and that you have amazing stories to tell.

    I’m sorry for your loss.


    • It means a lot to me that you are reading and commenting. Your blog is a wonderfully intelligent read so I am honored that you like my work. Please comment all that you want!


  5. I could never imagine what you went through with Elijah’s death. Your story about him is so compelling. Thankfully, you are moving through all the emotions and are at peace. I am sure that Elijah is honored to be your son.

    • Thank you for your comment, I really appreciate that you are my blogging buddy. 🙂 I was just so shocked to find that website, it put me in an odd place for a moment.

      • I imagine it would. It seems to be very morbid and callus to me. I don’t understand why someone would do that.
        I am glad that we are blogging buddies! It’s a nice feeling to know someone is reading other than my hubby.

  6. You would think that the internet would leave our most private and saddest moments alone, but the image of your son’s grave proves otherwise. That is just messed up!

    I don’t know you, I just came upon this blog today after you visited mine and posted such I nice comment. I have to say I was expecting something else, but what I read in this post was absolutely heartbreaking. You are a strong woman, and I am sure you are doing Elijah great justice on this earth. Sorry for your loss.

    • Thank you so much, your comment brought me to tears. Please keep coming back, my posts won’t always be so sad!

  7. cleveland05 said:

    Thank you for sharing this part of your life with such an open heart. You gave me chills as I was reading. I can’t imagine what this was like for you, but the strength you shared are truly touching and admirable.

    • Thank you for reading and commenting. I haven’t always been so strong or admirable but everyday, I strive to be better. 🙂

  8. The Alchemist said:

    I would think too that some things are best private. But sadly, in this era of too many small and compact machines and bizzare communications, finding the grave of your loved one was strange.
    I hope you be at peace and what you ought to be.

    Thanks for visiting my blog and commenting. I love your blog too and would like to visit often. Subscribing soon.

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