Grief, Trauma, and the God I Struggle to Believe In

My family has always been different. Most families have dinners together, praise each other for their advancements in life, argue a little bit, and love each other unconditionally. My family has unconditional love for each other, though it can be extremely toxic at times.

My mother, whom is my best friend now that I am older, is in recovery. Not for cancer or a hip replacement, but for drugs. She is currently on or close to ten years of sobriety. I know that’s personal, but she is very proud to say that she overcame something so horrible, and I am proud to say that I am her daughter. She has taken strides to be a better person, and for that I am grateful.

However, it was not always like this with my mother. She was the first person to show me trauma, hurt, and just about everything bad except for physical abuse. I always wondered as a child what it would be like to have a normal family, and especially a normal mother. Other children had mothers who walked them to the bus before school, or who gave them breakfast and got them dressed. Many children had moms who cared for them, gave them bed times, and made sure they ate dinner. Most of the time, I did all of that for myself.

My childhood was a mess, but that truly is a story for another time. My mother, even though she was a drug addict, loved me unconditionally. I knew that once she got sober, and that was how I was able to forgive her. However, it was not until I found out that I was carrying a child that I realized how truly unconditional a mothers love is.

From the day I found out I was pregnant, I jumped for joy, and could have screamed from the rooftops about extremely happy I was to raise a baby with unconditional love and support. I was going to make sure that their trauma would never come from my actions. My child would never have to bear the burdens that I did growing up, and I would walk them to the school bus every morning. Their mother would take care of them and show them that unconditional love without having to learn it for themselves.

I immediately started planning everything out in my head. I started buying clothes, and picking out names. I raced to buy everything I needed for my child because I knew they would be taken care of. I would sing to the tiny fetus in my stomach with so much joy. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” I would tell them everyday.

When I found out I was having a son, I was almost bummed because my boyfriend had it set in his head that we would name the baby after him, which did not happen. However, it really didn’t matter because he was the light of my life already, and I had never even held his tiny little body. The morning sickness and aches did not even bother me because I knew that the reward was so much greater than the hardships of sharing my body.

However, at the gestation of twenty-five weeks and four days, I found out that my sweet light no longer had a heartbeat. That my extremely little child would never be shown anything that I wanted him to see. I cursed at the God I struggle to believe in. I screamed. I cried. Nothing made me feel better, and it made my entire world go dark. Everything was wrong again, and the world no longer fit together.

Nevermind all of the childhood trauma, and everything else that had happened in my life, because this was by far the worst possible thing. My son would never take his first steps, tell me he loves me, or even smile because that chance was taken, and I never got a reason as to why. However, after 25 hours of labor, I saw him, and I held him. That unconditional love was so strong that I almost couldn’t let him go.

My family has always been different. My mom is a nutcase, and my siblings are just as crazy. We have all experienced the worst case scenario more than once. I forgive them for their wrong doings and continue to do so because I have learned that life can be gone in a blink of an eye. My son was my light, and my world got darker. The pieces may never fit together the same again, but I finally have people who take care of me in my times of need, which makes grieving a tad bit easier.

In memory of Coleson Eugene.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.

3/18/2022