Go eff ur.self...

My ex husband is hell  bent on making sure I know that he feels like it's my fault about Maxxton. He tells me that he and I both know Maxxton suffocated and It's my fault since I put him to bed and covered him with a blanket... Isn't that what EVERY mother does?? I was taking care of my son... I didn't put the blanket on his face... He blames me and it is hard for me not to blame myself... I ordered the medical examiners report to be sure that I didn't cause his suffocation and it says there are no signs of aspiration... That means he didn't suffocate, right???  I obviously blame myself for not being in there with him in the first place but my ex doesn't help this situation or feeling AT ALL... Is it possible to grow hate for the father of your babies?

.6.Months.without.Maxxton.

Tomorrow is 6 months that Maxxton passed away. Everyday is still as hard as it has been. Everyone says it gets easier when it doesn't. The pain is my reminder that I held him and talked to him for the 6 1/2 weeks he was with me.

I miss him so much. I want to hold him in my arms, smell his baby breath, let him eat my cheek. He would be 7 1/2 months old right now. I picture everyday what he would be doing, how he would be acting, smilling, giggling and cooing.

I wish I wouldn't have had my tubes tied. Nothing or anyone could ever replace him, but something in my arms could help me show him how much I love and miss him.

Aching in the pit of my stomach!

Maxxton has been gone for 6 months next week... I am having a hard time when it comes to letting people know about him being gone. His pic is on my debit card. I get alot of comments from people saying how adorable and asking how old he is. I used to come right out and say "he passed away from SIDS" but now I am finding that I am just saying "Thanks" and telling them how old he would be now...  I just don't know what to say anymore... I feel like if I say that he isn't here then people just think I am trying to get their sympathy but if I say how old he would be now - then it's like I am lying cuz he isn't here.... I am just confused, aching, depressed... I feel so many emotions that I can't control my life anymore.

The distance...

Jason is working in Vernal. I am living in Salt Lake. This distance is killing me, I need and want to be with him every night. I feel alone. Raxton is with me everynight but I am sure he gets sick of my tears. I don't want him feeling like I cry all the time. He needs a normal happy life.

How do I stop being so sad?

...lost...

I'm so mixed up.. I feel so lost. Someone told me to find god... I don't know how. My life has completely changed in the last 6 months. I feel like I lost control . I don't know where to turn or how to fix it.

What is Normal after your child dies?

What is Normal after your child dies?

Original poem by Tara & Heath Carey

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.  

Normal is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, X-mas, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th and Passover.  

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything anymore.  

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand "what if's" & "why didn't I's" go through your head constantly.  

Normal is reliving it continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.  

Normal is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.  

Normal is staring at every child around your child's age, trying to imagine who they'd be now.  Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.  

Normal is every happy event in your life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in your heart.  

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds.  And yet realizing it has become a part of your "normal."  

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your childs's memory and their birthdays and survive these days.  And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion.  Happy Birthday?  Not really.  

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special Taylor loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.  Normal is having some people afraid to mention your child. 

Normal is making sure that others remember him.  

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.  

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse, not better.  

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child.  Nothing compares.  NOTHING.  Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare.  Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.  

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because you know your mental health depends on it.  

Normal is realizing you do cry everyday.  

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone but someone also stricken with grief over the loss of their child.  

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child. 

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God.  "God may have done this because…"  

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did the laundry or if there is any food.  

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one child, because you will never see this person again and sometimes it is not worth explaining that your child is dead.  And yet when you say you have one child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed the dead child.  

Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God.  

Normal is knowing you will never get over this loss, not in a day nor a million years.  

Normal is having therapists agree with you that you will never "really" get over the pain and that there is nothing they can do to help you because they know only bringing your child back from the dead could possibly make it "better."  

Normal is learning to lie to everyone you meet and telling them you are fine. You lie because it makes others uncomfortable if you cry.  You've learned it's easier to lie to them then to tell them the truth that you still feel empty and it's probably never going to get any better -- ever.  And last of all...

Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal."  

The above poem was written by Tara and Heath Carey after they lost their daughters Violet and Iris in 2002 when natural gas caused their apartment to explode.

Decisions...

So, they say don't make any decisions for at least a year after something tragic happens... Maxxton died 5 months ago and in that 5 months I have made more life changing decisions than I did in 4 years! I feel lost and I don't know how to grab ahold of my life!