So weird how things that would have never touched me like that, now bring up so many memories. And no one understands. Although I'm sure you angel mommies out there do. But I'm sure none of my co-workers would have even thought about it...
So, when we first got in there they had a scenario that made us pretend that we were part of the Bastrop fires in September of 2011. The trainer started saying how she was sure we all remembered it since it so close to home and showed a slideshow of pictures. I don't remember any of it. I was preoccupied in September of 2011. September 1, 2011 I delivered my baby boy, Cameron. I was living through my own disaster, not to worry about others in a disaster too. I was in a fog. A gloomy fog that didn't seem to ever lift. In fact, it seemed to get worse and worse... I was dead inside. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't listen to music. I couldn't read. I couldn't get up. I couldn't stop crying.
This whole training was emotionally draining for me. I was tempted to go home after it. It was hard to sit through and hard to keep hearing about September. Hard to hear and train others to deal with someone in a tragedy. Though I think many of my co-workers do need that training...
They had us answer a question when we introduced ourselves... we had to pick one of four questions. I chose to answer what I have learned in the past about people who experience a disaster... I answered it based on personal experience. I said that people react in different ways and not to judge someone by how they are handling it. They are scared and angry and just want help since they did not choose this to happen to them. I hope they heard me and understood. I feel very judged at work. I feel like many people think I should be over the loss of my son. I will NEVER get over it. And I don't want to, nor do I feel the need to.
I can't believe that it's almost a year since I lost Cameron. It feels like last week. It doesn't seem like the time has passed. The pain has gotten better... but then again, I'm still not myself. I still feel empty, but I think I'm always going to. Even when I have another baby, their brother is always going to be missing. Our family will never be whole. I saw this quote online, but unsure where it's from, but I thought it summed up things so well:
“Do not judge the bereaved mother.
She comes in many forms.
She is breathing, but she is dying.
She may look young, but inside she has become ancient.
She smiles, but her heart sobs.
She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS,
but she IS NOT, all at once.
She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.”