Anyone who ever saw me with my son knows that I was a good mom. I don’t mind to sound conceded, but I really was a good mom. I took every step to ensure that my son was safe; I chose the best of the best for everything with him, car seat, and stroller, all safe and high quality. I just wanted the best for him, that’s not what made me a good mom though. What made me a good mom was that I would rather sit on the couch with him all day, playing peek-a-boo instead of doing laundry and vacuuming. What made me a good mom is I read him a story and sang him a song every night before bed. What made me a good mom is that nothing was good enough for him, he went everywhere with me, the thought of leaving him alone for a minute made me want to break down in tears, what made me a good mom was that I loved my son more than anything on the face of this planet. What made me the best mom was that I had the best son.
The reason I am telling you how good of a mom I was is not to brag about myself, by all means that is not my intentions. But I do want to admit that as good as I was I was not perfect. There is no such thing as a perfect mom, we all make mistakes. We all have regrets, things we wish we wouldn’t have done or done more of. Its only human. My point is that even a good mom, a great mom like me makes mistakes. I am proof of that. The morning my son died was a big mistake, a hudge one, one I wish I could take back and undo. Everyone tells me don’t blame yourself, you were a great mom, you loved your son, you didn’t do anything wrong. I keep telling myself that, reassuring myself that thousands of other mothers do what I did, and that it does not make me a bad mom. Its just so hard. That morning that I woke up to feed my bug, I was so out of it, I was so exhausted, I was not thinking at all. It is all such a blur. I try really hard not to blame myself for what happened because I did nothing to intentionally harm my son, nothing to hurt him, I never would have. I love my son more than anything or anyone, more than words can describe, more than the air I breathe, still to this day even though he is gone. I would never hurt him on purpose, but I did. I fed him that night in our bed, and even though I was asleep when I made that decision, I still made it. And because of that decision my son is gone. Its hard not to blame myself, and I try really hard not to. At times I just wonder “how is it not your fault” the bug had his own bed for a reason, he slept in his bed every night for a reason, because I knew it was the safest place for him. I only wish I could undo that morning, wake myself up, get myself moving, turn on ever light, tv, radio, and sound in the house as loud as possible so I would wake up and think about what was going on. I just wish I could go back and undo what I did, every minute of every day, I know it is not my fault my baby is gone, but if I had woken up, not made the decision to feed him in bed, then he would still be here, he would be sitting up, rolling around, eating solids, laughing, talking, and I would still be able to look into those big bug eyes anytime I wanted. Its because of me not waking up all the way that morning that my son is gone. And it just kills me every minute of every day. I try not to blame myself but I do, every second of every day because I was a great mom. And as a great mom, it was my job to protect my son, and I didn’t do that job. If I did, he wouldn’t be gone.
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