There is always a shadow that I carry with me. Every step, every turn and every moment of my day. It doesn't matter which direction the sun shines or how dark the room is. No matter how hard I try to redirect my soul, that shadow is always there. I used to catch glimpses of it and cringe, but in recent days, I find that shadow comforting. It means that my baby's time on earth was real. His name carries emotions comparable to that of a historical event. When I hear it or say it, I catch my breath and stop in my tracks. Carter. Such a beautiful name for such a beautiful child. The loss of him is as real as the life he lived. And both of those realities are equally painful for me right now. When a story or memory is brought up, I get weak and crack. Even memories that make me smile. That smile is as painful as the tears I cry when I miss him. For months, I have been numb. With numbness comes constant guilt. I feel awful for trying not to think about his absence. I feel guilt over not opening the door to his bedroom except to get the vacuum that I store in there. I feel saddened by my lack of speaking to him aloud. I go through the motions of each day without much emotion and find myself seeking ways to keep myself busy. Each day starts just like the last and the days creep by. But as each day ends and another begins, here we are...350 days later. The month of a May a happy month no longer. Instead it is the month that recognizes mothers as we reminisce our babies and how they have changed our lives and made us who we are. My first born child changed my entire world. He was my entire existence for 7 years. I lived and breathed for him. At this time one year ago, I was laying beside him in a hospital bed as we waited. Waited for him to get sick and leave this world. My entire world slipping away. All of the struggles and fighting to save him, coming to an end. I was facing Mother's Day in despair. I remember going to the mall to get a few things and having a panic attack right there next to a kiosk advertising Mother's Day gift ideas. I left as quickly as I could to get back to my baby but found myself lost in downtown Ann Arbor with a dead cell phone. I tried with all my might to get my bearings together to find my way back. Once back to Carter's room, I summoned a social worker to ask for help. I knew I couldn't make it through the tougher days ahead without something to calm my nerves. I couldn't even walk through the mall, let alone move my precious son to the hospice home. I was sent to the psych emergency room to talk to a doctor. I sat there staring at the rows of seats and feeling as though nothing in the world mattered anymore. Of course, I knew my girls needed me and that life would inevitably go one. It has to, right?! So I sat there and cried as I told my story to a nurse, then a social worker and then a psychiatrist. I was introduced to my new shadow that day. The shadow of the person I once was. I felt myself changing as I realized that I would never be the same. The person I became when my son took his first breath; a mother. I am still a mother, I will always be a mother. But as I was saying goodbye to my first born, I was saying goodbye to that mother. I am forever a different version of myself.
