A Tribute to My Son

Michael My Son

How do you tell a two-year-old-child, without scaring her, that her mother will be in the hospital for many months to save the life of her unborn brother or sister? I cannot remember what I said now, or how we handled it. I have blocked out many of those months because of the events that would follow. I only bring this to your attention so that you understand the struggle that Michael and I went through to spend this lifetime together. Michael was the name that was given to our son but it was not the name chosen before his birth.

I was placed in the hospital because I was not gaining weight with my pregnancy, and the unborn child loved to put me through false back labour every night. I learnt many sad stories of other mothers that were to be my roommates through this difficult time. It is hard to describe how sad it is when your child comes to visit you and is scared to get close to you. How do I share with you how it feels when your child has tears in their eyes because they do not understand why mommy won't come home; even through you have explained it many times.

When my doctor came in the day of my son's birth and asked me how I would like to become a mother that day, I could of kissed him! So much joy, but I was also so tired from all the pain that I had been experiencing for the past month. Michael was forced into the world that day, but not without problems. The ultra sound had shown he was fully developed, but once the contractions began Michael started to have trouble breathing. To this day I wonder if this was the first sign. An oxygen mask was placed on my mouth so that extra oxygen would get to him. I cannot even begin to explain how hard it was to stay calm; knowing he was in danger. Further trouble developed towards the end and I had to be placed sideways to give him a better chance of survival.

As you can imagine when he finally screamed and cried I was the happiest mother in the world. I looked into his perfect face and then at Rick and said this is not William Michael Clifford. This is Michael William Clifford. We both knew it was a truth. Once I knew he was okay I fell asleep in exhaustion. Needless to say I was anxious to go home and begin my life as a mother of two children. This was my dream come true. The only thing I had wished for.

Sadly it was soon discovered that my lovely son was in a great deal of pain because he had a hernia. The doctor explained to me that usually they do not operate on babies this young, but because of the pain he was in, that it was being considered, but I would have to see a specialist first.

The day we lost our son was the day he was suppose to be seen by this doctor. My daughter was a handful at the time and on this day I was meeting with another women because my daughter and her son were getting into all kinds of trouble, and we wanted to figure out a way to end it. My ex husband was doing night shifts so I had my brother come over to baby-sit my son while I took care of this situation. I remember feeling something was wrong, but I felt it was connected with my daughter at the time. It haunted me for the longest time that no "mother instinct" told me that my son was in danger. Even today as I type this part of the story I feel a pain that still brings tears to my eyes. I should point out that doctors have told me that even if I was a nurse and knew what was happening, and even if he was in my arms, I would not of been able to save him. I feel it is important that I share all of what lead up to this day so that my questions that will soon follow will be fully understood.

I was in the kitchen drinking coffee with my neighbour when the knock came to the door. My brother asked to see me. I knew when I answered the door my son was dead, and this is so very hard to explain, but I did not believe it. He cried as he told me something was wrong with Michael and that Rick was trying to breathe life into him. He told me he had gone to give him his bottle and found that he was not breathing and that there was blood around his nose and mouth. (Later I found out this is normal for this type of situation but not advertised.) Fear struck me as my imagination pictured my jealous daughter hitting him in his sleep. I am so happy that I never placed into words my fear that day and that my wonderful daughter had no way of knowing what her mother’s thoughts were.

The following events are still hazy in my mind. Waiting for the ambulance to arrive to save my child. Why were they taking so long? Its funny how everything seems to stand still. The police and ambulance finally arrived, and the police took me to the hospital to be with my son. It's not like the movies; your not allowed in the ambulance. I didn't understand this until later when it was explain to me that parents are too upset and sometimes will get in the way of what they need to do. At that time I was a smoker. I sat in the emergency with no patience wondering why they were not taking me to him right away. Needing a smoke so badly! Discovering that I had not brought my purse or my smokes. People everywhere jumping out of their seats to give me a smoke. It would have been funny if it weren't so sad. My mind screaming; God please don't take him away from me to punish me for something I have done something wrong!

Hospital attendants ushered my ex husband and I into a quiet room away from the emergency room, and being told that they were still working on our son, and that they would be in to speak to us shortly. Poor Rick had to drive himself to the hospital that day, but he said it was strange following behind the police and being allowed to go through the red lights. I still hear those sirens and the way that they echoed into a space that is not there.

Finally the doctor came to tell us that we had lost our son to SIDS. (Sudden Infants Death.) Also known on the streets as Crib Death. I refused the truth at first. Nurses came in to give me a needle that I rejected with a great deal of anger. They were about to force the issue when a man came into the room. He questioned them to what was happening and they were told to leave me alone. Later I learnt that my refusal for the drug was better for me in the long run. My soul and heart was dealing with what was happening and drugs would of just prolonged my acceptance. It didn't take too much longer for it to sink in, but the shock would be with me for a very long time.

I was asked if I would like to see our son to say goodbye. I wasn't ready but I went any way. They warned me of things I would see from the things that they had to do in attempts to save him. I cannot remember what I saw exactly because when I looked at him I no longer saw my son. The nurse wanted me to kiss him goodbye. I refused. She tried again and again, but I refused. I think more for her sake, I finally touched his hand and to this day regret that action. I did not feel his hand. All I felt was coldness. The body no longer had my son's soul. This is what I felt. I did not realize until years later the reasons I reacted the way that I did. I have been told since that the nurse could have been fired for her actions even though she meant well. The souls of the people going through the events know what needs to be done, even if no one witnessing the event understands. This is my thought at this time.

I do not go to church but the minister that married Rick and I came to speak to us the next night. As he walked in the door I simply asked "Why? I don't understand! Please tell me why? What have I done so wrong that God would punish me through an innocent child?" "Why did Michael have to suffer so much when he had so little time on this earth?" "Why did my oldest child have to do without her mother for a month only to loose her brother?" This minister had come out of his retirement to be of assistance to us. He shook his head slowly and said with tears in his eyes, "I don’t have any answers for you. There is no answer that could explain this to you, but please believe me that it is not God punishing you or your son. As long as I have worked as a minister I still have never had a answer to why children die." I don't remember any more of that evening and the conversation as we planned his funeral.

When making choices for what our baby would be wearing, we chose a white outfit and around his coffin we had white roses. It was my way of expressing to the world the innocence of our child. Now when I reflect on this I realize I was trying to regain my innocence to how you can loose anyone, at any time, at any age. I wanted to return to a life where children do not die before their parents.

I allowed for an open casket for a nutty kind of reason. Many had not seen him yet and in my mind I was giving them a chance to see him. He looked like a doll but he did not look like my son. I have never looked into an open casket since. I would face death many more times over the next many years.

My ex husband and his family are really huge people. All stand over 6 feet and all at that time weighed over 250 lbs. Michaels father being the tallest and the biggest one standing at 6’ 3 and at least 275 pounds at the time. Me? I am 5’ 1. Bare with me as there is a reason for this detail. I noticed as the minister was giving his speech at the graveyard that for some reason the wind appeared to stop blowing, and I could not help but feel at that moment, that time was standing still with me, crying for the loss of this child.

Now I will share with you what other people that were there and I experienced next. The minister raised his hands and began to say "Ash's to Ash's; Dust to dust…" I did not hear another word. I felt something leaving me and I felt myself falling. I heard my mother calling out to me and I became concerned for her because she had experienced a heart attack recently and I knew I had to be strong and I snapped out of it.

My sister watched sadly, but as she was watching me falling she saw something moving into the air and she always felt that she had witnessed a part of my soul leaving from my body to always stay with my son.

Three Men standing tall and strong saw the woman that they worried about falling and all three rushed forward to catch her. Yet all the rest who witnessed this also saw the helplessness in their faces, as they knew they could do to ease the pain. So much pain!

This is the strangest part of this experience. "I" also was there, and I watched each and every one of them, and I cried for them, and the pain that they had to go through. I love them so. This part of the experience is taking me by surprise. I know that as I type this that "I" is with me, but "I" is not Michael. It funny what we remember when we type.

I think the most difficult thing for me to experience was how to help the other people that were being affected by this event. How was I to help others to become comfortable with me again? People get very uncomfortable with someone that has lost a child. It is the judgements that people make that perhaps makes this more difficult then it needs to be. It needs to be understood that we all react to death in different ways, but that each way, in which it is experience, is perfectly normal and acceptable. I'll give an example from the gathering after the service.

My way of handling the shock and lost was to concentrate on how everyone else was handling it. I could not face my own feelings at that point. The only danger in this reaction is that it can take a long time to get back to what you experienced from inside. My brother-in-laws wanted to help me to feel better. Their answer was to pour a lot of beer into my system and to crack jokes. Many people there did not understand that each one of us was not ready to deal with the pain yet. I understood this on one level and that is why I drank the beer. To help them to feel better and I am sure some of it was to deaden the pain I was feeling. My brother; because he found my son dead needed to begin a very painful process of blaming himself, because he had been talking on the phone instead of going up with the bottle right away. It wouldn't of matter when he went up. True SIDS is death. I knew this inside, and wanted to remove this guilt from him and I guess in the long run I found a way to place it on myself. Another reaction that is normal. I spoke to him a lot that night trying to convince him it was not his fault. I even made a point to him, that if in anyway, I thought even for a second, that he was to blame, did he honestly think I could even speak to him? I think in some ways he recognized this, but unfortunately he needed to hurt himself for a long time. I was told this is a normal reaction for the person that finds the dead child. Can you see even by the words I am sharing here how I set myself up to fix everyone instead of fixing me? Many people needed to be angry, and my father was the perfect scapegoat because he did not make it to the funeral or the wake. Once the anger settled in for me I too made this mistake for a while.

Religion was not comforting to me at this time because my family and those that surrounded me had conflicting ideas to what God is. My mother believes we are living in Hell and will go to heaven when we die. My father took us to church when we were younger, but even at a young age I recognized it was only when he was feeling guilty. Yet, somehow I managed to keep a faith in God, but never felt the need to go to church to prove my beliefs. When the anger set in God was the easiest target to get mad at. How could he hurt a child while punishing me? What kind of God is this that would kill children?

The strange thing is as angry as I was; it was these questions that started the questions that would lead me through life changing events. What is God? Who is God? Is God real? Is there a God? My soul and heart were looking for answers for the question no one could answer. Why?

Thus my researches on topics like reincarnation began. This was my introduction to New Age thinking, and thoughts that have been questions for generations, but generally not spoken about too publicly for fear of being titled a nut. It was this search that finished off my life completely as I knew it at the time. I look back now and I know this is where my marriage began to fall apart. After 22 years I left my marriage, but that is another story that is quite long. What is important to this story is an experience I had just before I left that I never shared with Rick because I knew he would not believe me. He laughed at any of my spiritual thoughts or experiences.

I was meditating asking the question why, please God I need to understand. Now what I am about to share with you, many will not believe, but this is my experience and I do not doubt for a moment anything that happened, because it was from that time on that I could allow my son to leave in peace.

This is really hard to share in words! I guess I will call it a vision. No drugs, no lack of sleep or deep depressions. I felt my son before me, but he was different, and now that I want to describe him I cannot. I just sensed him. He explained to me that we had agreed to the events that had taken place before either one of us were born. He needed to work some karma off and I had agreed to help him. He wanted me to know how much he loves me and always will. Somehow all these thoughts were very clear to me as if we were speaking to each other, but I do not remember a face or lips speaking. It was time for him to move on. He needed me to let him go and he wanted to remind me that in the next life we had already agreed that we would live a full life of happiness together. We embraced each other to say goodbye in this lifetime until we meet again. I cannot explain with any words how full this love is that we shared within those seconds. I cannot paint a painting that would show the light that surrounded us. An angel hugged me. From that day forward I was at peace with my loss.

I cannot say I do not feel pain. I suspect I will always feel it. I think it is more the pain of not getting to see him grow up and always wondering what he would have been like, and what he would of looked like. I cringe when I hear people say at least you don't have years of memories to deal with. It is those memories that I do not have that haunt me. In my opinion it does not matter how long you have known someone to how it will affect you when they die. Whether it has been a few days or a lifetime there is still a piece of you that dies on the day when they do.

It is this experience that I now thank God for even though I do not fully understand it. I do know I am a stronger person for it, and that even though these very words can create anger in me at times these words are truth; we are only given what we can handle, and we are responsible for everything that happens in our lives. We may not understand while we are alive the reason events take place, in the way that they do, but this does not take away the fact that we are all one, and that we are loved.

To parents that have lost a child I wrote this so that you can see that yes there is life after the death of a child. I am happy now, but I will not tell you that I do not miss my son. I do, but the pain is different now and you will understand this in time. Allow for any and all emotions that you are feeling. Do whatever you need to do no matter what others might think or say. Your heart will guide you. Seek counselling to understand the stages that you will go through. It helps. Beyond all else, believe me when I say, it is not your fault or anyone else's. It happens. Even though I had the vision I will still be asking the question why when I am with the spirit. There are parts of this question that is still in my mind. Talk openly to those that are part of the event that has taken place. Always remember that we all have our own way to deal with a death. This article is another way that I have dealt with my son’s death. I can only hope that it helps to remove some of the bumps in your road at this time.