Restricted Grief

Jeremy was my son born June 4 1983 died June 8, 1983
Monday August 13 I had a horribly painful but yet incredible experience. I want to share it with our family. It is written in a broken style as it came to me in a process with Amanda, Daniel & Sara of Enlighten.

“I can’t breathe. Please help me; I need someone to process me. The pain is suffocating. No inhaler, it’s emotional pain.”

Daniel, “What is it?”
“My baby died.”
Daniel, “What happened?”

“He had a heart defect.”
“Everything was fine at first.” I can see Jeremy lying on my chest. Peaceful, quiet.

The way I find out , my doctor comes and says, “ There is something wrong with your baby. I refuse to do your tubal ligation. If he dies you might change your mind.” He walks away.
“I try to find someone to tell me what’s going on. No one tells me anything.”
"I want to run. He can’t breathe. I can’t stand to watch his pain."
“Then an ultra-sound of his heart. There is something wrong. They are flying him to San Francisco Presbyterian Hospital. I can’t go with him. I have to drive down the following day."
I don’t remember being given a choice of whether Jeremy was going to be taken to San Francisco.
“They took him away from me!”

“My arms hurt!"
“He only has half a heart. He can’t live without surgery. They won’t let me hold him.”
[Coughing so hard. I can’t get it out. I can’t breathe.]
I get to see him once more. To hold him only once more.
They did surgery. ”They used him as a guinea pig. Only a 15% chance of survival. ”

”His heart wouldn’t start.”

”People say I was lucky because he died before I got to know him. I’m lucky because he is in heaven. I don’t feel lucky. ”
”His coffin was so tiny.”
"Why did you take him away from me? He was going to die anyway. You should have left us alone."
”They tell me I’m lucky because I can have more kids, because he is in heaven. I don’t feel lucky!”

I cover my face and sob.
[Coughing so hard. I can’t get it out. Then blackness pours from me.]
Daniel, “Jeremy is here. He says it’s not your fault. He loves you.” I sense Jeremy kneeling at my feet with his hands on my knees, looking up at me.
For the first time I understand his pain. I now see how his pain and mine are intertwined.

Afterward
Over the years Amanda told me Jeremy felt left out. He wanted to bond with us. I didn’t know what to do with that information. He wouldn’t bond with me when he was born like the other kids did.

I begin to experience street lights blinking on or off as I pass by. It happens often. I began to know someone was saying “Hi. I see you. I know you are there and I care.” A month ago I knew it was Jeremy. What a surprise.
I’ve learned that Jeremy wants to be part of our family. He watches us and watches over us. He cares what is happening in our lives. He is part of us.