“There is no greater gift you can give someone in grief than to ask them about their loved one, and then truly listen.”
- David Kessler, The Author of Finding Meaning, The Sixth Stage of Grief
Owen's Rainbow will include musings about personal experiences of grief, infant loss, love, spirituality, and motherhood following the unexpected death of my 7-month old son, Owen, in May 2020. While some entries may be hard to read, I do not intend this blog to be a sad blog, but a comfort blog.
Thank you for listening and for your compassion.
To grieve is to have loved
To grieve is to have loved. The kicker is you don’t stop loving your child after they are not of this world.
What happened?
In May of 2020, my 7-month old son, Owen, died 12 days after heart surgery to repair his Tetralogy of Fallot congenital heart condition. Owen actually had one of the least serious cases of Tetralogy, and was a robust and healthy baby from the start.
What brought his unfortunate end was a cardiac arrest for reasons unknown 2 days after what appeared to be a successful surgery. The resulting brain damage was so severe, he would not awaken from his coma. The doctors say the odds of all this happening were 0.2%.
With broken hearts, we watched our son pass away peacefully 10 days after this event. He left behind his mother, father, and older sister.
Why am I writing about grief?
Most of us are grieving something these days. While everyone’s grief journey is different and there is no right way to grieve, I’m sharing Owen’s story and my experience to help process my infant loss grief.
Does this need to be on the internet? Well, no, but it provides accountability. I hope to look back and see how my thoughts progressed.
And maybe there is someone out there looking for a balm for the grieving heart.
Who else is this blog for?
This blog is for the bereaved parent looking for internet therapy when he or she cannot sleep.
This is for the parent who also lost an infant on the verge of crawling and saying “mama.”
This is for the friend who wants to support their grieving friend but doesn't know what to say.
This is for my friends and family who are curious about how we are doing.
This is for those who lost a piece of their heart and are still here for a unique reason.
And this is for my lovely son Owen - to keep his beautiful memory alive and whose story is not finished.
Meet Owen!
Owen was a special baby from day one! He was almost too beautiful, too good-natured, and too cool for this planet. He was full of easy smiles and had a gentle, “old soul” quality about him almost from birth.
Owen lived surrounded by love, with his mother and father and big sister Lea* who adored him (and whose actions fascinated him - his eyes would follow her all around the room). His extended family, friends, and neighbors were won over by his baby charms.
He packed a lot of living into his seven months. He experienced just about all of the most fun holidays (dressed as a pirate for Halloween; got passed around by the family like a gravy boat at Thanksgiving; sat on Santa’s lap; played with an Easter basket with his sister). He even celebrated his Chinese 100 days milestone in style wearing a party hat surrounded by loved ones.
He saw the leaves fall from the trees and grow back again. He experienced sun, rain, snow, night and day, heat and cold, shapes and shadows, toys, books, and animals. He experienced laughter, got to hear music, speech and stories, and enjoyed the quiet fascination of discovering and exploring objects, textures, colors and light. He learned to sit up, rolled over at least 3 wobbly times, tasted new foods, and in his last days started to babble.
Most importantly to a baby, he got the maximum dose possible of what made him happiest - mommy time.
When I think of Owen, my heart smiles thinking of his deliciously fat cheeks, his twinkling eyes, his calm soul, and his deep love for his family. He will be missed terribly, and never forgotten.
He will always be our beautiful boy, our son. We may never fully understand why Owen’s time with us here was so brief. His leaving, like his coming, is shrouded in the mystery of long odds. Perhaps there were other, greater plans for Owen. What we do know without a doubt is Owen was loved and he loved us.
Writing it all down
Near the 100th day of the anniversary of his passing, I started to document my journey and see where it goes.
I hope you will join me.
So here goes...
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