Grieving for Another Mother

I am grieving for another mother right now, my sister in this universe. Grieving because the entire situation, and everything she wrote in her recent posts after losing her son, touch the deepest corners of my soul. I feel a closeness to her as a fellow blogger who loves and shares about her child. Two moms who feel passionate about breastfeeding, baby wearing, and attachment parenting. To be real honest, her story scares the shit out of me. It terrifies me. It means SIDS is real. It happens to people. Real people.

Tonight I don’t worry about what I need to get done. I’m not worried about catching up on TV or cleaning the kitchen. I’m sitting in the rocker with Belle asleep on my chest, tears streaming down my face, grieving and overcome with sadness for a woman on the other side of the country whom I’ve never even met.

It was in reading her words that two things became very clear to me.
1) I will not let my baby cry it out. Quite frankly, Belle’s sleep habits have been pretty inconvenient for me lately. It’s frustrating to watch my to-do list pile up and when she wakes up every hour and a half unless she’s sleeping with us. But really that’s nothing. I value so much more that my daughter knows I will be there for her and will meet all her needs. Maybe we can find other solutions to better her sleep habits, but I won’t let her cry it out. As “inconvenient” as our lack of modern-day sleep training is, I feel proud of the fact that when our sleep consultant asked me if Belle had a lovie my answer was, “yeah. Me.” Belle isn’t comforted by a pacifier, a stuffed animal, little blanket, or sometimes not even her Dad. She wants me. Maybe I’m damning myself to a few more months of a needy sleeper, but so be it. She’s my daughter and I’m her mother and I will do everything my gut and instincts (my inner cavewoman) tell me to do. In this case, I will cuddle and nurse and love her to sleep.
2) Whatever struggle I had with working versus being a stay at home mom is over. My place is with her. I pray that Leo and I can figure out a way for me to continue to be at home with her. I’m hoping I can find work that I can do from here. I feel this calling stronger than anything I’ve felt before, that I am to be her sole caregiver.

So read Julie’s story and hug your babies a little tighter tonight. Give them a few extra kisses. And if you canhelp Julie and her family please do so. Thank you for allowing me to be emotional, raw, and real in this space. I’ll sign off like Julie…

One love,
Kelley