Unfathomable @ Attack of the Redneck Mommy

There is nothing harder in the world than having to say good bye to your child.

It isÂ a pain no parent should ever know. Tears that should never be wept.

We enter parenthood in good faith, with dreams of watching our children grow up and become parents themselves. Images of little league games and school pageants, followed with learning to drive and onto dating.

We try to visualize our children’s future all the while breathing in their sweet smells and blowing raspberry kisses on their little bellies.

We moan and groan over potty training foibles and temper tantrums in the grocery store. We dread the teenage years and the rebellion we know which must surely follow. We never think of the possibility of not having another tomorrow with our child.

It’s unfathomable.

We do everything in our power to give our children the tools they need, the love they need to succeed in life, with the hope their lives will be everything they dream it to be.

What we don’t ever imagine is being robbed of that joy, of that promise, of that life we created or adopted.

It is unfathomable to think we can have a child one minute and only a memory the next.

Two of our fellow mommy bloggers and their husbands are facing this reality. Two of our own, in this electronic community we have created online for ourselves are struggling with the knowledge there will be no prom dates, no more raspberry kisses.

Two more families now have to face their new unimaginable reality and deal with the fiercest pain they will ever know.

I’m in Los Angeles to help the Spohr family say goodbye to their beloved Maddie. Meanwhile, I’m sending prayers to Thalon’s family and asking my Bug to play with his newest little angel friend.

I wish I didn’t have to.

I wish I didn’t have an angel of my own to talk to.

I wish I was anywhere else but here.

I wish I could say this was unfathomable.

But I know it’s not.

Avitable

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:07

I think it’s amazing that you’re making the trip there so that you can be a source of strength. You are wonderful. Truly.

mariah

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:10

I second avitable. Bless you for being here inLA for the spohr family

Newfiehun

I remember being 6 years old and saying goodbye to my baby sister. She was 4 months old when a heart defect took her from my family. Now I’m almost 39 and have 3 children of my own. My stomach knots in pain and I cry silent tears every time I hear of another child dying. I wish, like you, that I would never have to hear of another.

Gladys

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:11

No words can make it better or make the pain go away so I will just sit here in my silence praying.

Maya

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:14

what a beautiful post. The worst thing in this world is having to bury your child. It’s just not right. I will be there tomorrow as well, holding heather’s hand.

whoorl

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:15

Your strength is a blessing to so many, Tanis. xoxo

Julie

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:20

The Spohrs are lucky to have you be with them during this horrific time. It has to be some very small comfort to them to see you and know that their life will go on. Very differently than the life they had before Maddie left them…but their life WILL go on.

You’re the best, Tanis. Sending thoughts and prayers out to everyone. Tomorrow will be so hard.

Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing]

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:28

Please pass along the well-wishes of the entire internet to the Spohrs.

I wish only the best for all incredible parents who have had to suffer in the ways you have.

Nibblet's Mommy

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:29

I also wish I didn’t have an angel to speak of, but my little girl Taylor, who forever will be 9 months old, will be there to play with Maddie and Thalon.

Amo

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:30

All of these families and their support will be in my prayers tonight.

Stay strong. I know you can.

mom23greatgirls

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:35

One of my strongest memories as a child is my parents coming to the door and telling me that my brother had passed away.

Flash forward 33 years later and I’m telling my daughter the same thing.

There are no words to describe the pain – I wish that no one else had to go through it. I know this isn’t about my pain but somehow being a kindred spirit in this walk I hope lets the Spohrs know that they are not alone – alone is a horrible feeling after the death of your child – there are many many thinking of them and wishing, like you said so eloquently, upon every star that they, and other families, didn’t have to feel this.

Addison go find your new little friends, hug them tight, and welcome them home.

KK

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:43

Strength, love, & hugs to you Tanis & those you seek to comfort. Thoughts & prayers.

psumommy

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:51

Just the very *thought* of losing one of my children sends my heart and stomach into knots. I’ve been watching this unfold; I don’t know these women and their families (didn’t even know they existed until this past weekend) and my heart is breaking for them. I hope I never feel the pain that they- and you- are feeling.

You are a good friend to be there for them.

mandy

Monday, 13 April, 2009 at 14:56

When we lost our third son, albeit late in pregnancy (not after birth), no one around us knew what to say, because really, there is so little to say. So much to feel.

I can’t imagine the pain that you have known, that the Spohrs and the Meyers now know. I can only know the Spohrs, Heather and Mike, will be only grateful for your visit and presence.