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Comment by Dolly on May 9, 2015 at 10:43pm

Rj depends .. I adopted my first at about age 40 but they told me I would only be able to adopt either a disabled child or a minority... so I adopted a disabled mexican american baby who was 18 mo old.. he is still with us and is going on 31... we adopted Brandon who was African American when he was about 4 and I was about 53... he died in 2013 at age 21... he was also disabled... we adopted our daughter when I was about 50.. she wasn't disabled but later developed emotional issues... she is African American too.. and is now 35.. so it depends upon who you can accept and how old you are at least that's part of it... I never regretted adopting my kids ... I have one natural son by my first husband who is now 50 and I love all my kids the same... I've been thinking about taking a disabled foster child if my husband's health issues ever stabilize fully.... but I'm pretty old for all of that myself... I will be 72 in July... hard to believe...

Comment by Rj on May 9, 2015 at 3:05pm

I wonder if i am too old to adopt a child? I know they say do not make any major decisions for a year but its been on my heart and mind for awhile, actually even before the loss of larry.

Comment by Rj on May 8, 2015 at 7:13pm

Some of you may have read this but it was the first for me. It is on the compassionate friends website. I guess i am reaching for anything and everything. We all have so many of the same thoughts and share our broken hearts.
"Anticipating Mother’s Day"
Before we lost our children to death, Mother’s Day was a happy time. We each reflect back on Mother’s Days past…...gifts, cards, special memories and one day set aside to acknowledge the best in our relationship with our treasured children.
With the death of our child, this dynamic was forever transfigured. Now, instead of looking forward to this day, we grasp at anything that will keep our minds away from it. Yet the anxiety still creeps into our minds and hearts; our stomachs churn and tears fill our eyes at the most inopportune moments. The dreadful countdown begins in late April and lasts for nearly three weeks.
This is the eighth Mother’s Day I have endured since the death of my son. Each year I have the same, desperate anxiety, yet each year the day is a bit easier to handle. Each year the anticipation is far worse than the day itself…. “borrowing trouble” as my dad would say. Since my son is my only child, I do not have the comfort of other children nor do I have the need to put on a happy face. Instead, I am able to choose what I will do without feeling the burden of guilt.
While my first Mother’s Day was filled with tears, subsequent Mother’s Days have been more subdued.
The choice to embrace or ignore Mother’s Day is yours alone. Many bereaved mothers adopt a new perspective which honors their child and still gives normalcy to their family. Mother’s Day is bittersweet for us. The pain is part of the love that we will feel for our children for eternity. We wouldn’t trade one treasured moment for a cosmic reduction of our pain.
Some of us plan the day carefully. Some of us just “go with the flow.” Some of us weep; some of us work. Some of us read, some of us revel in this special moment set aside just for mothers. Each of us makes a choice that is based on our own truth.
The day itself is not nearly as overwhelming as the buildup of anxiety and sadness which precedes it. I have found this to be true of all holidays, birthdays, death anniversaries and special occasions. I am trying to live in the moment. When the moment of Mother’s Day happens, I will decide what I should do. I refuse to let others pressure me. I refuse to become maudlin over greeting card commercials and heart-grabbing point-of-purchase marketing efforts. I will not be manipulated by the agenda of others.
But on Mother’s Day, as on each day of the year, I will think of my son, remembering the child he was and the man he became. I will honor his life by doing the best I can with what is left of my life. I will remain in the moment and treasure my memories. And for this mother, that is enough.
Annette Mennen Baldwin
In memory of my son, Todd Mennen
TCF, Katy, TX

Comment by Rj on May 8, 2015 at 7:05pm

Seems like moms always have little pet names for our babies, no matter the age. I feel the same way jill, the aging process when i look at myself. I tried smiling in the mirror the other day and compared that smile to the smiles of the ones in photos of me and larry. Looks like a different person. Yes, empty sad eyes.

Comment by Jill E on May 8, 2015 at 6:43pm

In these last 5 months I feel I have aged years. My face looks tired and my eyes empty. Rj just be careful. Please. It can take you over and you don't even realize it.

Comment by Jill E on May 8, 2015 at 6:41pm

I always called my Josh, Joshie. He always called me Mommas. I can hear him say it and feeling him give me one of his great big hugs. He was never shy to hug me and tell me he loved me in public (well except for a few teenage years). I can't believe he is gone. I saw him often and never knew.
I still keep praying I will wake up from this horrible dream.
I love you my Joshie!!! WYWH

Comment by Rj on May 8, 2015 at 5:28pm

I know i do need to be careful..since i am on zoloft and Xanax. But the drinks do fill up the void from 6 pm til about 9.get up for work ok. Its just that sadness, lack of joy, loneliness is so deep. Nothing, no med or drink takes it away. Sure takes a toll on us doesnt it. Been 3 months, feels like a lifetime ago.

Comment by Rj on May 8, 2015 at 5:15pm

Teresa, you have a smurf...i have a bumpkin, like you said, always. :)

Comment by Rj on May 8, 2015 at 5:14pm

I found that verse...and it fits so well

Comment by Rj on May 8, 2015 at 5:13pm

I am feeling like a small canoe lost at sea. I am floating around, and I look rather normal up close. It is only unless you look a little longer and see the bigger picture do you see just how lost I really am. So here I go lost and floating around out into the greater world waiting for that stranger to boldly wish me a Happy Mother's Day. I will smile and say, "Thank you." I will think of my Larry, and do my best to be his mother on this very scary Mother's Day.

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