Nice to see you!

Three major events occurred for me last year (2010), all in the space of about 2 weeks. I turned 50. The following day I got married. Two weeks later, my oldest daughter became pregnant with her first child and my first grandchild.

Most middle-aged people will tell you that in their minds, they still feel 20 something. It's the same for me.

Wasn't it only yesterday that I was planning a night out with guys from the surf club? That gorgeous new perm. Flaired, cuffed denims and the red t-shirt with the off-the-shoulder frill. Corked platform wedgies. **sigh**

Suddenly I'm looking in the mirror and wondering how 30 years can flash by so damned quickly!

So here I am in cyberspace, sharing my genuine shock and horror with anyone who'll listen and maybe I'll even meet some other over 50s who find themselves in the same predicament!

Welcome to my dilemna!!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Isn't it Funny?

Today would have been my first son's 33rd birthday, if he had lived.

Jamie died of 'cotdeath' or 'sudden infant death syndrome' (SIDS) at 17 weeks of age.  It's funny that I am sitting on my couch thinking about him while watching an old episode of ER and one of the characters is talking about his first son dying of SIDS.

Weird co-incidence!

I was only 18 yrs old when I lost Jamie.

It's very strange and I am about to write down something that never occurred to me until tonight ... well, I partly realised it while at Bunya Mountains, but it only became really clear in my mind tonight.

I have always felt like his death was not allowed to be important to me.

I was told that I was too young to have Jamie.  I was told that I was too young to be married.  I believed that any choices I made back then, were stupid choices because I was 'too young'.

When I was talking about Jamie with one of my flickr friends while in the Bunya Mountains, I actually said out loud "It doesn't matter, I was only 18 at the time".

She responded with "Of course it matters!  It doesn't matter how old you were, your baby died!  It matters!"

I thought it strange at the time that I had even uttered those words!

The older I become, the more often I think about Jamie.

There were many of his birthdays, or anniversaries of his death, when I only afforded him a fleeting thought.

Today, I am giving myself permission to feel sad about losing my baby.

It DOES matter that my baby died.

It doesn't matter whether I was 18 or 28 or 48 and it doesn't matter whether he was 17 weeks, 17 months or 17 years old.

His death was significant in my life and it was tragic and traumatic and heart breaking.

I am allowed to be sad.  I am allowed to cry, even after 33 years.  I am allowed to feel emotional when I talk about him or think about him.

He was my son.  I gave birth to him.  I was his mother and I loved him.

I am no longer going to brush his death aside as something that deserved to happen to a stupid 18 yr old who was too young to make all those important decisions.

Isn't it funny how it has taken me 33 years to get to this point?

Nite all.


Anonymous said...

I'm with you Roqqzy!! It certainly DOES matter
and it IS sad and it certainly WAS traumatic!
I do remember him on his birthdays and anniversary of his death and I mourn for him and
for and with YOU. For me life is 'before Jamie died and after Jamie died'. love grannymus

Age said...

Thank you Grannymus ... big bear hug to you xx

Vegan chickie said...

Reading this post made me so sad and it's taken me all day to come and comment because I feel so heartbroken for the woman who felt so powerless as to invalidate her feelings around such a huge and momentous event in her life. I can't imagine her because to me you are so strong and brave and powerful and it's hard for me to think of you like that because it seems so unreal but I'm so sorry that you felt that way, and that it's taken so many years for you to claim your grief for Jamie, and I'm sorry too that you didn't have people in your life who validated your feelings and empowered you in your journey.

Whenever I speak about Jamie - and I speak of him often although I never met him - I talk about how you were 'only' 18 too, but I say it with awe, because having to deal with something so heartbreaking would be hard enough but to have to face it at 'only' 18 seems like such a bigger burden, and therefore something to be even more proud of. I am -and always have been in awe of the woman who survived that tragedy at such a young age and some how kept on walking through her life. I'm sorry that I neve said that to you before now, I guess I didn't realise that you might need to hear it.

Age said...

Thank you.