Blame

When you face a death, it is easy to post blame anywhere you can. In my situation, I've oftentimes blamed myself for the death of my son. That in it-self has been an uphill battle.

My son died to SIDS. It has continued to be a painful situation. I felt such great blame for not waking up sooner, not offering him one more bottle before bed; having co-slept I even blamed myself for possibly suffocating him. Some moments are better than others are; however I will still occasionally think about him sleeping in my bed with me just feet away, as the reason for his death.

The morning I found him; I recall John (from the funeral home) coming in to take his body. I looked at him and begged that he find an answer as to why my son died. I needed some reasoning and proof; anything that would answer the millions of questions I had going through my mind. He asked if I wanted an autopsy done; I jumped and said yes.

It was weeks after Reiley's funeral that I finally received a copy of his death certificate as well as his autopsy report. I read it from front to back numerous times. There was nothing. His organs were fine, all measuring and weighing appropriately. His lungs were clear. His brain fully developed for his age. Absolutely nothing that could have caused any doubt in my mind that it was "just his time." Nonetheless, I still blamed myself. I still questioned and have continued to question if there was a single event that set the ball rolling for his death to come to fruition.

I looked at the death certificate; wondering if there was an answer there. Again, I found nothing. His cause of death listed was Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

I couldn't believe that my son was gone from my life for one and for two, that there really was no reasoning behind his death. At least with every death I had dealt with previously; there was a reason. This death and the grieving process associated with it has been most difficult without having an understanding as to why he died.

This is the first time I have even discussed the self-blame that I have been through over the past seven years, three months and two days. The prison I've held myself hostage in equates to Two-Thousand, Six-Hundred and forty nine days (2,649).

In that time, I've found no answer, none, nothing, nada and zip. Yet, somehow, I still find a way to blame myself. Perhaps the psychologist within me should do an examination and determine the best course to change that aspect.

So yes, along with the blame I placed on myself for my son's death, I've also had to battle with issues of self-worth and self-esteem. All of those factors are directly related. If I didn't hold myself accountable for Reiley's death; I wouldn't feel so poorly about myself and my esteem would then be good as well as my value of worth, in my minds eye.

Death brings with it many emotions and countless barriers one must overcome. The grieving process, while challenging, can be more difficult that the griever could imagine. It certainly has been in my life, all because of a little blame.