I didn’t want him.
I actually, genuinely didn’t want him.
This little boy in the nursing home with sweet brown eyes and a big smile had Down syndrome and it scared me. Down syndrome was a foreign entity to my world and the unknown was uncomfortable.
But God handed him to me, so I took him despite my massive amounts of reservation. Even though I couldn’t see how, I believed with all my heart that it would work out.
It didn’t take long to fall in love with him. I mean head-over-heels-couldn’t-have-loved-him-any-more-if-I’d-carried-him-myself love. Our hearts were perfect for each other and he was more perfect a child for me than I ever dared dream for. For thirteen gloriously beautiful
My Tanner.
He became my heart. My world. My joy. My everything.
And then, in the blink of an eye… he was gone. His big, beautiful heart beat for the very last time at 8:20pm on Tuesday, April 11, 2017.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to live without him.
I actually, genuinely didn’t know how I was going to live without him.
Two years later and I’m still finding my way back.
I remember one early month after I lost my baby, I tried to join an online support group for parents who had lost a child. There was a post that immediately stuck out to me: it was a mom who shared that it had been two years since the death of her child and she was still struggling.
Two years? Still hurting? Still struggling? I left the group and walked away. I didn’t need that kind of negativity in my life. I didn’t need to surround myself with people who were that broken. Buck up and move on…. it’s been two years.
Yes, I passionately loved my baby. Yes, I was consumed by utter devastation over his loss. But it had only been a few months and I knew my love for him would carry me through the loss. The type of deep, aching, throbbing pain I was feeling would be temporary.
Even as a parent who had newly lost a child, I still didn’t have the faintest clue of the road before me.
Today marks two years since my baby took his final breath. Two years since I kissed his nose. Two years since I saw him smile. Two years since I got to take care of him. Two years since he reached out and took my hand. Two years since I got to be a mom to him. Two years since I got to show him how much I love him.
And it still rocks me to my most inner core.
About a year ago I returned to support groups (online and Onsite) in search of others who could even vaguely understand what I was going through. What I found is an amazingly supportive community of Angel parents who come around their own with love, support, compassion and an absence of
I now know that two years is a blink and a lifetime, so is five… so is twenty when you’ve burried a child.
I now understand there doesn’t need to be an absence of pain for joy to exist. Angel parents can live a joyful life again, but the pain never leaves us, not even for a moment.
Most importantly, I now know you never, ever move on from a child you lost.
While we do not move on from a child, we can move forward holding onto our precious baby’s memories and the love we had for them. Tanner’s love was special, it was infectious and it was freely given out to friends and strangers alike. The old couple, the tatted-up biker, the strangers in the booth next to us were all likely to get a smile and a hug.
This morning, my heart is still very broken: two years is a long time to be without my baby. But I also know that as we spend a day Living Like Tanner and intentionally bringing joy to friends and strangers alike that by the end of the day our cups will be overflowing.
Today, we move forward… with heartache, with
#LiveLikeTanner
#RandomActsForTanner
#GetDownSyndrome
#Adoption
**Feel free in joining me and my family in remembering Tanner by doing Random Acts of Kindness with your own family, friends or community. Do them in memory of Tanner, your own loved one, or just because being kind is awesome and we need more of it around us. Please share your adventures in kindness with the hashtag #RandomActsForTanner.
Tanner, my love, my baby. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love and miss you with every single breath I take. You are still my baby and you will be forever and always. I love you with all that I am. Heaven can’t come soon enough. Love, Mom-Mom
