Tag Archives: sadness

Son, I Too Have Asked “Where Is Your Daddy?”

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Another month in 2020, another month under a Stay at Home Order. t was my intention to release this blog last week but I spent my free time searching for a dog for my son. No such luck yet, but the rationale behind him getting a dog is an entirely different blog altogether. I’ve recently written a few blogs detailing how my son has been questioning and for as much as a toddler can- working through the answer to his burning question “where is my daddy?” This is something that I’ve continued to both pray on and blog about. I’ve gotten some good suggestions from you all and for that I thank you. This particular blog is going to take a different turn. It’s something I wrote to my son’s father on my son’s first birthday but never sent. When I found it in the notes section of my phone I debated writing it out and putting it away for my son to read at a much later age-not because I want him to hate his father but because I originally thought it would help if he saw that he wasn’t the only one with that question. As I sat reading the letter I decided against writing it out for my son to read; I feel it’s too emotional and I honestly don’t want him to combine my past pain with whatever pain he may be working through at that (future) stage of his life. I also flat out just don’t want my son to worry about me, that’s not his job. I have however decided to share the letter with my readers. I want people to know and “see” that healing is possible. Yes, healing hurts and it takes time but it’s worth it. I want people to understand I wasn’t always strong, or forgiving. I want whoever needs to hear this to know someone once walked in your shoes; felt your pain; and plans to make it to the other side. The other side being not only healing and forgiving my son’s father BUT also opening my heart to love again. You, too can do this. So here goes:

11/13/18 this day was so painful. It should’ve been very happy and honestly in spurts it was but as has been the last month, there were random periods of tears. Yup, our child’s first birthday and I cried….several times actually. The first time I cried was because I wanted to text you, well obviously that wasn’t an option but I realized the very reason I wanted to text, you honestly wouldn’t have been able to share with me. I wanted to reminisce, recall what was going on at certain points, reflect on how we felt or reacted to different events on the day I brought our son into the world. Slowly, I remembered you weren’t there. I couldn’t reminisce or recall with you; and there certainly could be no reflection because you weren’t there. Flashback to one year ago, I needed you so much that day. I needed you to hold my hand; to calm my nerves; to reassure me that everything was ok and I was doing a good job….cuz well I didn’t believe the nursing staff. I thought they kept telling me that just to keep me calm, to keep my blood pressure and heart rate down, to keep me from throwing up. I remember finally deciding to get the epidural after approximately 24 hours of labor with very little pain meds thinking “I don’t want this but if I end up having a c-section I also don’t wanna be knocked out and in recovery for 2 hours and not being able to hold my baby. My baby needs to feel one of his parents within the first few minutes of life…not after 2 hours.” I agreed, and in came the anesthesiologist explaining to me that I needed to be very still while he was placing the epidural in my back, even if I had a contraction I had to be still. If I moved I could risk him hitting a nerve and paralyzing me. Welp, the first time he tried I had one hell of a contraction, moved, screamed….he jumped and barely got the thing in. He took a step back, looked at it said it was terribly placed and he was gonna take that one out and reinsert it. Sir, I barely got through one attempt now you saying you wanna do it again? I guess the second time was a charm because he placed it perfectly and once it was in I immediately felt the medicine(sweet relief). 

After getting the epidural I remember falling asleep, finally some peace. I woke up  2-3 hours later, got rechecked, assured I’d finally made it to 9cm (because if they were wrong again I would’ve found the energy to scream at them) and being told “whatever you do don’t push; we’re gonna break everything down and set up for your son’s birth.” The. Longest. 30. Mins. Of. My. Life. I wanted to push so many times while they were setting up. It took forever, or so I thought. Finally, the doctor came over and asked if I was ready to deliver I told him no. 26.5 hrs later, the moment I’d been waiting on and I told him no. He asked me why not and I told him you weren’t there yet and you couldn’t miss it. He gave me an empathetic look, stared right into my eyes and told me it wasn’t like the ultrasound where they could keep playing around until you got there. This was different and the baby couldn’t wait. It was time and I had no other options. Fighting back tears I took a deep breath and said ok. Thus the delivery of our son began. 

For as terrible as labor was delivery was  surprisingly easy. It took us about 30 mins. I wore the oxygen mask between pushes to ensure my levels stayed high and that the baby was getting enough energy. It took around 7 pushes, no seriously it didn’t take much. Around the 4th push I looked over at my mom and asked where were you? I whinned about you missing it and her response was he’s probably with his daughter. I asked if you’d texted for an update and she said don’t worry keep pushing…..which meant no. Again, fighting back tears I kept pushing and a few minutes later the most beautiful baby I’ve ever laid eyes on was born. For the first time of many over the course of the last year I had to put my feelings aside and care for him. He made that easy, he immediately snuggled right under me once he was placed into my arms. Which, by the way took a little extra time as they originally didn’t like his heart rate. After a few minutes, his heart rate slowed to a pace they were comfortable with, they cleaned him, measured, weighed in and placed him in my arms. True love at first sight. Looking at him made me happy; holding him made me happy; him snuggling into my chest made me happy. And suddenly I felt too much joy to be sad. All I could do was wish you were there too. 


It dawned on me yesterday while reminiscing on the day our son was born that the day of his birthday was the second time I felt he and I weren’t a priority in your life; unfortunately it was the first time I felt you rejected us. Yesterday I realized I hadn’t forgiven you for not being there, but how could I? You were not there the day I needed you most. On top of that you never apologized for missing it. Ok so you started a new job that day, but you could’ve came back after work. You could’ve called and talked to me, hell you could’ve FaceTime-d me. I would’ve at least felt like you made an effort had any of that been done. Instead you did nothing, you didn’t even communicate to me that you weren’t coming back. Yea, that was the first instance of rejection and that realization triggered this particular burst of tears. That’s our son’s birth story, now you know how it went…and as a result why I cried. 

A Parent’s Worse Nightmare

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The world stopped Sunday upon receiving news of Kobe Bryant’s untimely death. I personally almost passed out in disbelief. According to my mother she knew someone had transitioned based on the tone of my voice. I was totally taken aback and once I heard the number of victims who were on the flight it sent me over the edge even more! ” Oh my God, was Vanessa with him? If so that means ALL the girls?!? Oh my God, please don’t tell me an entire family is gone. As the we weaved through the rumors and (mis)information being presented at the speed of light we learned Vanessa wasn’t with him; which in my mind reasonably meant the baby wasn’t aboard the helicopter. This should’ve calmed my nerves, lightened the blow but it didn’t. I immediately screamed “GiGi”!!!!! Her death was yet to be confirmed BUT I was already gone. I bawled the entire day; and once her death was confirmed well it became too much. My own son staring at me in horror, not understanding what’s going on didn’t make the situation any better. I attempted to talk to one of my close friends about it and I immediately realized why I was taking this so hard. Yes, he was an amazing player; yes his death was so untimely and so unexpected but none of that is what drove me to the brink of unbearable sorrow. None of that was why I couldn’t look at; deal with; or be involved with my own son. This hit differently, it hurt like hell because I’m a parent; a mother and whether it’s for the good or bad things affect you differently as a parent.

Motherhood, parenthood in general has a way of uniting us. It’s one of those things that we inherently understand. We may have varying circumstances but realistically there is more about being a parent that unites us than divides us and well we aren’t afraid to show that, to build community and relationships from it. The unbearable pain I felt was as a a parent; it was so complex and yet once I was able to somewhat dissect it it made so much sense. The realization of more children and broken families built on the grief I was experiencing. This piece is in no way indicative of what’s going on or me trying to say how they do or should feel, It is no way what I know to be happening. This piece is just what I FELT on their behalf and the mini directions in which my mind wandered. For me writing was necessary to process my own grief.

Fear, Failure and Realizing Mortality:

I can’t imagine nor do I want to experience what it feels like to know what’s coming and to not be able to do anything to save your baby girl. Like seriously in the moments leading up to the crash I imagine all he could do was tell her he loved her; pray with her; and hold her. While spiritually and maybe emotionally that’s a lot and the best thing to do(prayer); physically and mentally it’s nothing. I HATE feeling helpless in minor situations with my son….you know he fell and I couldn’t catch him; he’s teething; and I can’t take the pain away; things like that. Can you imagine how hopeless that has to feel; to know he couldn’t stop the inevitable; to know he couldn’t take the pain away; to see that fear on her face?!?! I’m sure for a brief moment he felt like a failure. Parents but men especially pride themselves on providing for and protecting their families. Even in those last minutes I’m sure it messed with his manhood to know he couldn’t do anything. In all honesty I’m sure for another brief second he felt responsible for what was happening; after all it was his helicopter. Even if he didn’t feel those emotions (and I seriously hope he didn’t) knowing she won’t live out her potential; knowing she’s about to be robbed of her future; and that he is about to lose time with his other children…that’s so much pain. It hurts to fathom he died possibly blaming himself for her death…and in the end felt helpless. I would imagine his emotional death hurt more than his physical death.

Disbelief, Brokenness , and The Unthinkable:

Not even sure where to begin with this one. To carry and bear a child; watch them grow up; witness their milestones; prepare for the future because you know greater is coming and then to have it all snatched away in the blink of an eye -the immense grief the surviving parents must feel. What those parents wouldn’t give for one more hug; one more kiss; one more I love you mom/dad; more time to watch them grow….I’m honestly not sure how anyone finds closure from that. I imagine it feels as though a piece of your heart has left. How do you move on from that?

If you’re V how do you still mother your other children young children at that while grieving. How do you explain to your toddler who has very little sense of what’s going on that her sister and father won’t be back? How do you not get annoyed with her for continuously calling out for them? How do you separate their lack of understanding from your own grief? How do you mother a newborn and continue to unselfishly give of yourself when you’re in shock; horrified; in disbelief?

The father with the toddler who kept crying out for mommy……how do you deal? My heart broke again listening to him talk about how his baby crying out for mommy broke him. Jesus, how does one attempt to process grief when you have a toddler adding to it? You hurt for your children!!! Let’s be honest, as a toddler what memories will they have of their parents or siblings? Not very many. You hurt because their robbed of a parent, continuing a relationship, and what could’ve been. Mourning both the present and the future can be extremely hard, almost crushing.

AND in my opinion it gets worse for all the parents that have to identify and bury their children. How do you bury a child? No one is prepared to do that; we aren’t taught how to; aren’t given any direction. How do you get closure, you have to identify a body?!?!? Not a whole body possibly riddled with needle wounds after a fight with a terminal illness; not a body riddled any other bruises or wounds…unfortunately and perhaps what hurts most is possibly a mangled body; charred; in pieces, missing pieces; or no body at all. It’s hard enough to lose a child; it makes closure and acceptance even harder with the possibility of the gruesomeness these parents must face. They honestly can’t get that last hug; look at the gentle faces again; kiss their cheeks; or move their daughter’s hairs behind their ear.

My Jesus how it must feel to lose a piece of your heart and to grieve without physical closure. In the words of the hymn, “Oh what needless pain we bear.”

Horrified, Guilt, and Regret:
I don’t know how true this is but it’s been said on several occasions that Kobe and his parents weren’t on speaking terms. While I hope this isn’t true, I mourned for them too, but in a different way. If it is true they weren’t on speaking terms there’s a sense of guilt and regret that probably hits them. A case of the “what if” or “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve”. Maybe even a case of “I thought there’d be more time.” Unfortunately time is a fragile thing, it is both with us and against us. We never know how much of it we have and so it’s important to make every moment count; to attempt amends; and to do our best to have functional relationships with the ones that matter most. I honestly hope they aren’t mourning the loss of a son and granddaughter as well as the loss of possible reconciliation. I hope they aren’t mourning a granddaughter and the lost ability to get to know her. I hope they were at peace with their son. Yet, if they weren’t that’s a different type of loss altogether. It’s a loss I can’t exactly put into words but I felt and understood it all too well. While everyone’s loss is devastating if there was no relationship with their son and granddaughter that loss is more devastating because it comes with a side of guilt and resentment.

In the End:

In the end it took me a few days to sort through my feelings, and to compose myself enough to to put this into words yet after dissecting all of this I understood exactly why I felt her pain; why I felt his pain; and the pain of his parents and all the parents involved. I mourn(ed) those things with and for them. For some reason this commonality of parenthood really allowed me to empathize with them and perhaps understand a smidgen of the pain they’re feeling. It was important to understand this burden; this grief; this pain because while I need to pray for them I also need to learn from it. Even though Ionky have a toddler sooner rather than later I need to figure out a way to explain death and grief to him. And while this may not be a common idea I think it may be smart for me to game plan how to deal with grief while parenting; after all I am a parent and it will happen. In the end I wish this never would’ve happened to them but I no matter how it hurts I’m not going to question God. We just have to pray for the families, it”s really all we can do.