Who in the Hell Am I Now that my Child has Died?

A month before Libby died, I wrote an article that was published on the Filter Free Parents website about how I lost my sh*t one day trying to keep up with my duties as a full-time working wife and mother.  

My article… (Click to read)

At the time, I was utterly exhausted from running myself ragged trying to be ALL. THE. THINGS. to ALL. THE. PEOPLE. and never let anyone down, and I felt like I was failing miserably at everything.

I had absolutely no idea that my entire world was about to fall apart.  

Reading that article now is almost surreal.  Who was that person?  Why did I let myself become her?  And now that I’m NOT her – who in the hell am I?  

I am still a mother, but it’s not the same.  I went from being the mother of an elementary-school aged child and competitive dancer who needed me and wanted me around constantly to having just my two teenage boys– one in college, and one a senior in high school who does NOT want to hang out with his mom.

I am no longer a wife.  My second marriage, which I had been desperately trying to save for over a year and a half, imploded almost the moment that Libby died.  A friend of mine pointed out to me recently that when she read the article I mentioned above, she had wondered if my marriage was as “Facebook happy” as it appeared.

It was not.  For a whole host of reasons that I will not go into other than to say that sometimes people can be good people, but terrible partners.  My daughter gave me the gift of being so broken that I didn’t care about how it would look to walk away from the things that were not good for me, and I am forever grateful to her for that.

I am still a teacher because having 20 years invested in a pension is almost impossible to walk away from, and it allows me financial security.  But I’m worn out, and I feel like it gets more difficult every year.  Especially this year.  I’m not sure how I’m doing it, honestly, other than I don’t really have a choice.

The harried woman who wrote that article in January, whose dream was to be a wife and mother, now spends her afternoons after work looking around the house, wondering where everyone went.  

If you know, you know. Amiright?

Where she was screaming for some alone time, down time, ME time – now she has so much of it, she doesn’t know what to do with herself.  

And so begins a journey that so many grieving parents have to travel – the journey to find ourselves.  To figure out who we are, what we like, what we want to be.  To decide if we’re going to be swallowed up in the void of grief or keep trudging forward.  

For me, it looks like this:

I joined a book club.  I had forgotten that once I start a book, I must devour it in one sitting or else I can’t concentrate on anything else until it’s done.  

I joined a women’s volunteer group.  I figured the least I could do is give back some of my newly acquired free time to others in need.  

I “window-shop” houses on Zillow and dream of one day being able to buy and renovate a historic old cabin on a lake somewhere up north, where I can curl up in front of a wood-burning fireplace in my pajamas and read for hours.  

I took my maiden name back, and I’m keeping it for good, because as my dear friend Kris told me, “It’s my favorite version of Brooke.”  I’d like to think I’m an older and wiser version of that girl whom I haven’t been for 23 years.

I started a virtual child loss support group through Grieving Mommy to help other grieving parents come together.  

I’ve continued working on 501(c)3 status for Live Like Libby, and maintained social media presence for both that and Grieving Mommy.  

I’ve helped my mom as much as I can manage during her cancer treatments, knowing that it’s not enough, but trying to give myself some grace in knowing what I can and can’t handle right now. 

I don’t know which things will continue, which will end, which will end up being “me,” and which won’t.  Part of me is angry that I have to figure any of this out in the first place.  I’d give up every moment of rest and go straight back to being the overworked and overwhelmed woman I was if it meant I could have ONE MORE SECOND with my baby girl.  

But I can’t.  So I’m starting the journey.  We’ll see where it leads.

Watch the video for this topic HERE!