living after the death of a baby, living with Autism, living as a family of six, living on our organic homestead, living miserably, hopefully, and with joy, and somedays just living

Maternal Fears

I have so much to write about but most of it requires such emotion work.  I’m going to leave it for now.  It mostly has to do with securing services and financial aid for Elijah, and with getting a midwife to attend our birth, all of it has been so full of strife and discouragement.

I think all the fighting, perhaps struggling is a better word, has left me weak of mind.  I fear death, without the long explanation, I worry that I shall not be admitted to the bounties and beauties of Heaven.  But more immediate to my fears is that Kyle will die.  I’ve always been good at imagining the countless way he would leave me a widow.  Since we’ve experienced death in our family I fear it more so.  I worry at being a single mom, to what should be four children soon, I worry at how I would support our family both financially, and emotionally in the absence of Kyle.

But even grater than my fears of widowhood, (widowdom?) is that I will be force to burry another child, one I have watched, with great gratitude, bloom into a little person.  I can imagine it in many ways, and once my mind has set itself upon that track I can not stop it. I can see it plain as day, like a video running through my head, and it is nearly impossible to stop.  I can imagine the event, as well as what would come after.  Even changing details to make them more gruesome, until my legs quiver and hot tears can not be kept at bay.   I used to wonder who could write dialogue, so evil and sinister, for shows like Criminal Minds and CSI, but I can easily imagine now that it is mothers’ worrying of the worst for their children whether still young or grown.

Worse yet, (yes it gets worse for me) is that our whole family will be victims of some unimaginable tragedy and Kyle and I should die while our children call out for us in fear and pain, and no one is there to hold their hand or ease their suffering.  I tell you I’m jello, just writing the words. I don’t where to go, forward from here, I think that it’s as much as I can write on the subject.

As mothers, we are somehow endowed with super emotions, fear grater than we ever thought possible, guilt that our inadequacies are damaging, but also with love, the greatest of all, more than we are ever worthy of.

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