Life After Beau

These are just a few things I've written. In this emotionally chaotic time, it helps to organize my thoughts.
Thank you for sharing this life with me.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Stupid Strollers.

My annoyance for strollers keeps growing. Strollers are unavoidable lately; I live in a beautiful, walkable city, we live by a few parks, and it's summer. The perfect equation for the ever-dreaded Stroller Parade. So, I've had to sort of deal with them, and by that I mean: averting my eyes every time I see one.

I went to the farmer's market today, and was once again bombarded by baby strollers. At one point, I found myself cornered by two strollers, and a couple of New Moms. (You know how crowded it gets at the vegetable stand). They didn't hear my initial "Excuse me", because as soon as the words left my mouth, one of the New Moms exclaimed, "I'm pregnant again!!" Underneath my sunglasses, I rolled my eyes. The hug and the squeals created an impenetrable barrier. "Ok," I thought, "don't panic." I took a deep breath, and instead of elbowing my way past the huggers (tempting) I just stood there for a minute. There were two babies, one in each stroller. I didn't pay much attention to the year-old girl; but the infant boy caught my eye. I looked him straight in the face, fully aware that I haven't looked a baby that closely since Beau died. He looked back. I studied him. My immediate thought was, "Now, why do YOU get to be here, and Beau doesn't? What makes YOU so special?" He kicked his chubby feet and blew spit bubbles. My heart literally ached, and suddenly I felt dizzy. That was enough. My next "Excuse me" was louder - they heard me that time. I quickly walked away, tears streaming down my face, until I got in the car, where my tears escaped into a sob.

I don't wish this pain on anybody. I don't want to be spiteful, resentful, bitter - that's not the real me. But this grief is a selfish beast - it sinks its teeth in and doesn't let go until it damn well pleases. I hate the whole process. I hate everything about losing Beau. I hate that I have a physical reaction to babies now. I hate everything that is a reminder of what I lost. And although the rage eventually subsides, it's still intense, and it's still unpredictable. But the sadness, the longing, that's always there.

I have a feeling I will never receive an acceptable answer for "Why". Why Beau specifically, why can't I have him, why did he have to die, why did this have to happen to us, why do we have to endure this, why. At first I was comforted by the thought that he might be an angel in heaven, but now I shake my head....he's just not here. And I can kick and scream and cry all I want, but he's still gone. Which means he's not in a stroller, blowing spit bubbles, going with me to the farmer's market. And it's not fair. I don't want an angel; I want my baby.


  1. Minnow....
    I can feel the intensity of every word that you've written here. And I can relate to every word too (oh, have I ever felt those feelings of anger and despair after Bryce died...many, many times over.)

    You are absolutely right that it is not fair that Beau is not in a stroller going with you and Sam to the Farmer's Market...and everywhere is just not fair at all!

    This experience that you just described is one of those horrible...unexpected and much unwanted 'grief triggers' that we talked about.

    Let the tears and feelings come...
    Remember that each grief trigger serves a purpose and is a forward step on the recovery path (even though it may not feel like it at the time.)

    I wish I could be there with you to give you a hug...

  2. Minnow-

    Your words bring tears and dredge up old emotions that I thought were long buried. Every so often, feelings of loss,grief, anger, sadness, sorrow and rage still overcome me when I see a "normal" little boy running and playing on a sunny summer afternoon. Almost three years ago, we were where you are and the pain does subside. Let the ugliness run through you and out again and in time you will awaken from your terrible nightmare and be transformed, a different person, no doubt (and always missing that little piece of yourself that you gave to Beau) but also better in ways you could never know...I think of you often and wish I could be there for you.



  3. Hi Minnow!

    I am so glad you are doing this blog (even though I cry everytime I visit). It has got to be somewhat healing for you. I can't fathom the pain you must feel and only wish I could take it away. Hang in there Minnow. I love you!

    Sincerely, Rudy and Edward Potse von Ruden