Trauma Mamas

Today’s the day I start a blog. To share anonymously more true feelings, to not hide behind the grief, to not pretend to be someone else or something else. Only thing I’m hiding here are names.

Today’s THE day. It’s the three year anniversary of when my child died in front of me. Today is the date, April 23. But it’s more than just today. I relive this date every Saturday and every Easter and in the spirit of being honest and not hiding, let’s face it, I relive this date every day.

Yesterday I was fine. I was calm, collected, motivated for a day off the next day to honor my daughter in the routine of staying so busy that it’s hard for me to relive it until the end of the day when my body and my mind can take no more. Instead of waking up motivated to start the busy body checklist, my body knew the day, knew that other people would know the day too and I barely slept. I worked on my puzzle for hours in the middle of the night, ensuring no one would choose this house to break into with the all the lights on so late in the dark. My rooster started to crow his usual crow at 2am but it instinctively sounded and alarm in me and I began to grow nervous. Nervous something is wrong, there’s a fox near the chickens perhaps, or perhaps just my body knowing my child isn’t here with me and that itself is so very, very wrong.

So this morning, on the three year anniversary, my heart is racing, my mind is cluttered and unfocused, my eyes are weeping. I am so full of fear, the trauma stuck in my body, my hands attempting to shake it out. But it’s not just today. I want those who have not experienced child loss, and hopefully never ever will, to know that this reaction happens on multiple days for us bereaved. It happens on THE date, like today, April 23. It happens on both Saturdays before and after April 23, because when IT happened IT happened on a Satuday. It happens on Easter, the first holiday I missed with my daughter, and happens on the day before Easter too. Because when IT happened, it was a Saturday, April 23, the day before Easter. So this trauma comes back in almost full force on Saturday, on April 23, on the day before Easter, and on Easter. To quote a friend, “April is the cruelest month.”

-B