“You are so strong.” “You are inspiring.” “I don’t know how you do it.” “I wouldn’t be able to go on if my child died.” These are statements often heard by bereaved parents. And I hate them. I am not strong. Well, no stronger than anyone else. Burying a child does not automatically make one stronger. I go on every day because I have no other choice. Living each day without my child does not make me strong. I am living against my will, I did not make the choice to do so. My heart continues to pump, my lungs continue to breathe. My will has nothing to do with it. I don’t want to be admired. I am not someone to aspire to live up to. I am just here, trying to survive each day. Those who say they could not go on if their child died. Well tell, me what would you do about it? Because short of suicide you too would not have a choice in the matter. Don’t get me wrong. Suicidal thoughts are extremely common in the bereaved parent community. Not necessarily ideations, but wishing they were dead. Wishing they would go to sleep and not wake up. Wishing for a terminal illness, aneurysm, freak accident, anything to escape this life. I cannot speak for all bereaved parents but I do know many, many that would welcome death.
I am not strong. I go through the motions. I do what I have to do. I haven’t worked since Ariella died in May. I was fortunate to be able to take off the rest of the school year. Tomorrow I go back. Maybe some think that makes me strong. But it doesn’t. I don’t want to go back. Going back to work feels like I’m moving on with my life. That there are things out there more important than Ariella. But I’m not going back to move forward. I’m going back to work because again I have no choice. Bills have to be paid. Food has to be bought. I work in 5 different schools. That is going to be like 5 first days back at work, plus my orientation day. The thought of this terrifies me. Because I am not strong. Because I cannot hold back my tears. Because all I want to do is be at home with minimal interaction with the outside world.
I am already exhausted and overwhelmed. Everything just feels wrong. My whole life feels wrong now. I don’t know where I belong now, where I fit in. And I have no desire to figure it out. I don’t want to find new roles and identities. All I want is my job as Mom and I can’t have that.