They're eating my brain

"The what-if's and the should-have's will eat your brain." John O'Callaghan

Another first of the month rolls by, and despite my best efforts I can't help but think about what Caius would be like now. Today he would have been nine months old. I can try and imagine what he would look like: a little more dark brown hair, a little color to his skin from playing outside, cheeks a little chubbier, eyes a little brighter. What if he was here- would he be crawling now? How much bigger would he be? What new little quirks would he have? What if we hadn't gone out that night, what if we had had a more typical night? What if we would have put Caius to bed earlier, would we have noticed him acting differently in any way? What if I had introduced formula earlier and Caius had gained weight quicker? What if his brain hadn't been able to develop properly because of something I did or didn't do? What if I didn't do enough when I was pregnant? Nursing? What if I wasn't a good enough mother? What if this is my fault?

And then there are the should-have's. While the what-if's make me feel awful and guilty, the should-have's make me sad and angry. Defeated. This list runs through my head regularly, like a rolodex spinning around and around. One thought shouts louder than the others. It screams at me, so loudly that all the other should-haves are briefly hushed. 'You should have known- you were his mother!', it hisses. It stabs me in the heart. 'You should have known'.

These words are eating my brain.

They feed on my weaknesses and eat up my time. They are also hard to digest. These thoughts make me feel like I am living in two separate worlds at once. One world exists in the past and in the future interchangeably. I retreat to the past by choice but also at times by force. I enjoy this world because I can go back to when I was with my little buddy. I can rewind through weeks and months and stop at certain moments to enjoy. I go over the times Caius spent in his highchair when I would sing and he would joyfully slap his hands down on the feeding tray. I remember his little faces and expressions when trying new foods. I remember him looking down to check out what the dogs were up to. I remember wiping his face with a warm washcloth. This is where the what-if's and should-have's live. What if I had done one thing differently, would it have changed the course of what happened? What if one micro adjustment in time had made the difference between Caius being alive and passing away? What if? These questions have no answers. Maybe our fates are set in stone, perhaps we are constantly altering our fates with every choice we make. We can't really be certain, so I can never be sure. But the questions repeat.

Just as I can escape into the past, my mind creates a future that sadly will never exist. In these scenarios, Caius and I are doing things we used to do and new things as well. I like to think about spreading out a blanket on the patch of grass on the side of the house. I would take Caius' little hand and run it over the cool grass, maybe letting an ant crawl on my arm so he could watch it move around on my skin. I would point out the birds sitting on the fence posts, maybe repeating the word 'bird' for teaching's sake. We would play with his toys, spy on the dogs, have a snack. Caius would be wearing his orange sunhat from his pal Anderson, and one of the summer outfits that hang in his closet untouched and unworn. This world is fun because I can manipulate it and create different happenings. But it is also panic inducing because I realize it will never be. The heavy sadness that this brings is unreal. This is where should-be's live. We should be doing those things. Caius should be here.

The world I live in alongside this remembered and created world is the present. It is at times easier, but other times more difficult. The present is concrete. It is happening. I can't manipulate it with the same ease as my should-be world. I can control some things that may affect my levels of happiness, but some things remain out of my hands. This too eats away at my brain- the anxiety that comes from not having the control over things like existence and mortality. But I can do some things to improve the present. Connecting with others, doing small acts of self care when I can, doing things that honour Caius. These things feed another part of my brain, the part that is inspired by the journeys of other parents who have lost a child and the kindness of those in our amazing community. Thoughts of how I can help bring awareness to and raise money for SIDS research feeds the part of my brain that represents hope. Ideas about how I can pay it forward live here.

John O'Callaghan once wrote, "the what-if's and the should-have's will eat your brain". They do. But beautiful memories, hope for the future, and gratitude can feed it. So while I live between my two worlds, I will try to remember to keep a balance. I will honour Caius with memories and actions. I love him so much that he deserves this. Not only in the past, my son- you will continue living in my present as well.

Chantal