That's MY mom

"That's my mom"

I like to imagine my sweet chubby little boy saying this to some of his new little friends on the other side, where ever that may be. I like to picture him smiling, watching me while I stamp the names of other people's children onto small metal discs. While I add angel wings to a necklace made for another child gone too soon. Maybe he has met these other children, whose mothers will proudly wear the names of their lost children as their hearts ache. I feel the love I have for Caius moving through me as I create jewelry for mothers, aunts, friends. Beating through my veins as I tighten clasps and thread beads, infusing each piece with so much love.

When I first started making necklaces to help raise money for SIDS research, my goal was to raise a few hundred dollars and make a few necklaces. Soon enough, I was taking many orders a day and now spend up to eight hours a day creating. I have also started feeling something that I haven't felt in a while: purpose. I have a task beyond showering and eating breakfast, and I am helping people. The desire to do what I can to help better understand this devastating monster that has taken too many children propels me. The focus required to keep everything organized, make sure names are spelled right and so on distracts my brain and keeps me busy. It has become a welcomed distraction.

But it also makes me sad.

I feel sad because I imagine another mom receiving their necklace and showing it to their children. Or wearing it and having someone say, "oh how sweet, how is your darling daughter/son?", and the moms answer by sharing how their child scored the winning goal in soccer last week, or how they are so excited for summer holidays to begin so they can take their children camping. Or some other story. The point is simple: I am sad, or maybe jealous, that I am making something for mothers who have something that I wish so badly I had; my child. As I busily engrave these children's names, I think about them either from real life interactions or through photos I've seen on social media. I think of their smiling little faces, I think of them sitting behind birthday cakes, I think of them growing taller and getting teeth. Learning to talk and learning to walk. I also think of how I will never see Caius doing those things.

I think about the necklaces I make for other mothers whose children have passed away, or for friends who have lost parents, siblings, spouses. I think about the stories that have been left behind, I think about what these babies, children and adults may have been like. I wonder what their friends and families miss the most. What the pain must have felt like when their families said goodbye, wondering if they show signs like Caius does for me. I love hearing about how hummingbirds remind one mother of her son, how another loves sapphires because her son's eyes were bright blue just like the jewel. I love being able to make something special for someone who is in pain, something that honours a loved one. I love that a stranger might notice and read a name out loud, and that the wearer has the chance to share a favorite memory about the person they have lost. I love that I can wear my locket that holds Caius' picture, or the necklaces that have his name on them because I feel as though it's a way to acknowledge him. To tell the world that he was here, he was real, and I miss him so much.

So while I feel sad that I can't show Caius the little bumblebee charm that I wear around my neck, or that I have to explain that 'Caius was my son but he passed away and he was only seven months old and he died in his sleep and thank you- no it's ok, I'm sorry too', I feel joy. Joy that I can help celebrate those who are in our lives and those who are not. As I stamp out words like "strength", "love" and "family", I feel gratitude for what I do have. I feel thankful for the support of our beautiful community, and love that I can help a parent share their love for their child(ren). When I add bee charms to different necklaces, I think about what the bee signifies for Clint and I, and how cool it is that other people will be remembering our special boy by wearing bee charms too. I think about little Ruby, Hazel, Darin and Grady, and I think about their mothers who will wear their names proudly in their honour. I think about Caius, beside me thinking, "that's my mom".

I hope he's proud.

Chantal