https://notamomanymore.com/2010/07/19/hello-world/?page_id=1
Author: Bunny G
Grief
“A Pair of Shoes”
Someone recently sent me this poem and it really has helped me. If you are my people, I hope it helps you.
“A Pair of Shoes”
Author Unknown
I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.
“A Pair of Shoes”
Who Would Want These Awful Shoes?
Someone recently sent me this poem and it really has helped me. If you are my people, I hope it helps you.
“A Pair of Shoes”
Author Unknown
I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.
Happiness Loves Company, Too
People have asked me, over the last 20 years how I get up in the morning while knowing that my child is dead and I can’t have any more. They expect me to be some sort of zombie or in a mental hospital. My answer to them is that I just try to make the most of my life here on Earth because my son was robbed of that opportunity. It would be an insult to his memory to not be grateful for every minute I have here, so being bitter and miserable is not an option. Poisoning my bod
y with drugs or alcohol has never been an option in my life. I have little patience for people who do that and oddly, most of the people I knew who did that had a lot less of reason to do so than I would.Some people have asked me how…
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A House of My Own – Sandra Cisneros
One of my favorite authors. One of my favorite books. The House on Mango Street, by Sandra Cisneros. I am hearing the little girl’s voice in my head.
A House of my own.
Not a flat. Not an apartment in back. Not a man’s house. Not a Daddy’s. A house all my own. With my porch and my pillow, my pretty purple petunias. My books and my stories. My two shoes waiting beside the bed. nobody to shake a stick at. nobody’s garbage to pick up after. Only a house as quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.
Thanksgiving Memories: Love and Loss
The Last Thanksgiving
thankful
Now, the chill wind reminds me of funeral flowers and burying my 15 month old child in warm clothes in the hard earth of Westview Cemetery in my hometown of Lexington. I try to think of all of the fun I had with him but November will always bring memories of the kindness of strangers, the tears, the loss. Going home the night of his memorial service and crying like babies, my husband and I, next to the empty crib.
Living with the Suicide Disease
I have a condition that is subtitled “The Suicide Disease” (Trigeminal Neuralgia). Wikipedia actually has an easy to read, accurate, description of it. It is really hard to treat and destroyed my old life in many ways, yet it led me to a new life. I am finding it hard to be grateful to an illness that causes me pain almost every day. But God has His plan. I NEVER believed that before. I didn’t like it when people said it to me after my son died. Or when my uncle died. Or when my aunt died. Or when I found out I could never have a baby.
But I believe it now.
SON OF A …. THIS %$&*^$ HURTS!!
Even though I am a Christian and try to live my life for God now, when the nerve pain in my face flares up, that is about the only thought that is in my mind. For the first two years with this horrible condition, I was on narcotics, (along with anti seizure and anti viral medications that I take to this day) basically to save my life to keep me out of pain that might make me depressed or suicidal. I had nothing in my life but the pain and my precious dogs. Everything else fell apart. I was starting to understand the nickname of this horrible condition.

I have a condition that is subtitled “The Suicide Disease” (Trigeminal Neuralgia). Wikipedia actually has an easy to read, accurate, description of it. It is really hard to treat and destroyed my old life in many ways, yet it led me to a new life. I am finding it hard to be grateful to an illness that causes me pain almost every day. But, God has His plan. I NEVER believed that before. I didn’t like it when people said that to me after my son died. Or. when my uncle died. Or, when my aunt died. Or, when I found out I could never have another baby. Or, when my husband left me because of that, and went and immediately “found” someone to do that with, and did, just that. Good times.
I am thankful for my wonderful husband, family and friends. It hasn’t been easy. My old Myspace readers will recall me reporting friend stealing my pain meds, leading to a doctor thinking I was a pill popper. (I NEVER TAKE MORE THAN PRESCRIBED-that is a good way to be DEAD, fast). I lost a job I loved, a husband I once loved, a home I felt secure in. I have had family problems because they, understandably, tire of seeing and hearing me in pain and feel helpless. They lost patience with my dizziness, forgetfulness due the medicine, and the fog of the incessant facial pain. They despaired the loss of the “old Cherie.” Some friends have become distant, too. Still, other “friends” drop away after I refuse to share my medication with them. After I cheerfully tell them what doctors to go to for their “ailment” and offer to help them make an appointment, they disappear. I can see them coming a mile away, now. It’s pretty sad.I started doing things for others. I was getting involved helping the shut-ins in my new little community around the holidays. I walked my beloved dogs. I got out of my own head. I made some friends. Had my heart bruised a little. Went on horrible dates. I wrote blogs about them. Writing helped me cope. Comedy and laughing still help me to this day.
Ironically, none of my new life would be possible, I suppose, without “The Suicide Disease.” In a way, it actually gave me a new life. I may have the “suicide disease” but I wouldn’t miss a minute of my life, just the way it is.
Country Living vs. City Living
This a list of observations since I am not only a Yankee, I am a city girl. I live in a pretty part of Kentucky. It is peaceful but I am still in “culture shock.” I will be updating this list frequently, as events occur.
City Living: I stepped over a drunk to get to my apartment once.
Country Living: No drunks in the yard, but plenty behind the wheel of every type of vehicle known to man. Defensive driving is a survival skill.
City Living: Sometimes I couldn’t find where I parked my car.
Country Living: I have to look behind me when backing out to make sure I don’t run over one of my chickens or the neighbor’s dog.
City Living: Rats frequented the alleys and near dumpsters.
Country Living: If you don’t get an exterminator or set bait down, mice will live inside your HOUSE. One jumped out at me when I was going for a fork. I jumped out of my skin and finally, my DIY husband admitted defeat and we called a pro.
City Living: If a domestic animal is run down by a vehicle, people are sad and might call the Public Works department so people don’t have to see the remains of the poor creature get pulverized by traffic.
Country Living: That’s what buzzards are for.
City Living: If you go 30 miles over the speed limit, you could get a very expensive ticket, raise the points on your insurance, and if you do it more than once you are in real trouble.
Country Living: What’s a speeding ticket? I see Cletis and Jimmy Joe hauling ass at about 80 mph on surface roads without a cop in sight. From the state of their vehicles, they have no job. Where they are rushing to is anybody’s guess.
City Living: Yearly inspections on your vehicle. Yearly excise taxes based on the book value of the car.
Country Living: You get your car inspected once. ONCE by someone who works in the office of your county’s registrar. Usually it’s a secretary. No mechanical inspection. I suppose they just need to make sure it has 4 wheels and doors that close. Excise tax? Here, I don’t think that would be a good revenue stream, judging by the clunkers I see on the road, including mine.
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Dos and Don’ts When Dealing With Someone who has Lost Her Child
The best thing to say in almost all situations like this is “I am so sorry.”
Dealing with someone who has experienced an unspeakable loss (of a baby or child of any age) is often difficult for friends and family. Here is a quick guide for dealing with those who are suffering. These are my experiences, all are true. My son died of gM1 Gangliosidosis after 15 months and three weeks of life.
PLEASE DON’T SAY:
- “Are you trying to have another one?” -As if a replacement will help.
- “What did you do to your HAIR, I HATE it!” -shouted at me the day after my baby died, as I opened the door to a now departed relative. She had avoided me while my son was dying. This was in response to a short, dark hair cut. My hair was not a priority at that moment. Apparently, it horrified her and she just had to let me know. In short, use your brain.
- “Oh, I forgot. The rest of us have NO problems compared to YOURS.” -a relative’s favorite response to any attempt by me to put any problem in perspective, even if I don’t mention my late son.
- “We KNOW!” in an exasperated tone, when expressing grief or your new-found (or old) pain at attending (or refusing to attend) baby showers or infant/toddler’s birthday parties. Sadly, very close family were the worst offenders.
- “Maybe God meant for you not to have a child . . .” (after a death of a 15 month old and many years of frustrating, failed infertility treatments.) Again, a close relative.
- “At least you didn’t have time to become attached.” (Blink)
- “You are so lucky you don’t have kids!”
- “You can have another one, can’t you?”
- “Oh, you can’t? Why don’t you adopt!?”
- “The disease (that killed your son) only hits 1 in 100,000? You should play the lottery!” {THIS WAS SAID TWICE}
- “Wow, you have the worst luck.”
- Nothing. The pain of people simply dropping out of one’s life as if their child’s illness and death is contagious to their children is horrible.
- “Are you still upset about that? It has been # months/years.”
- “You really should keep your grieving private. Just between you and your husband.” (said to someone I know)
BONUS: If a child is dying: DO NOT SAY THE FOLLOWING:
- Have you gained weight? – another relative. Ignoring my child, who we brought to a family function because nobody wanted to come to visit us in the city because of the parking. We had to bring our nurse and a portable oxygen pack, but really, my weight was the REAL issue.
- If you are an MD at a teaching hospital, please don’t make guesses at the baby’s life span to your med students as if he were livestock in front of his 23 year old mother.
- Again, if you are an MD, don’t say, in response to a missing immunization card, “it’s not like he is going to be going to kindergarten!” Dr. Lynne Karlson of New England Medical Center‘s Floating Hospital said both comments to me. I was stunned at her lack of humanity. I still am all these years later.
- Just keep praying for a miracle. (in a tone implying that we haven’t prayed hard enough–not helpful)
- And my personal favorite: “You should be happy you will have an angel in heaven now!”
It has been a long time, but I still bristle at the thought of those comments.
I learned that the people you THINK will stick by you might not, but God always puts someone else in your life to take his or her place. I have seen it happen over and over.
Don’t Discourage Talking About the Loss
Sometimes, people who think that they are doing the grief-stricken a favor by urging them NOT to talk about the death are thinking about themselves. THEY don’t want to be uncomfortable so they attempt to make the one who had to bury their loved one feel guilty for sharing their feelings. If you don’t want to listen, read a blog, or look at a photo, don’t. But, keep your feelings of discomfort to yourself and thank GOD that you only had a millisecond of it, and not a lifetime.
The last thing someone dealing with grief needs is guilt about how their feelings effect YOU. It is not about you. You will be dealing with grief someday yourself so try a little empathy.
Sometimes just acknowledging that the grieving woman is having a bad day is enough. Birthdays, death anniversaries, holidays are often very hard for someone who has lost a child. Some people go overboard, but most don’t. Tact and kindness go a long way here.
If you are dealing with grief yourself and don’t like the way someone else is dealing with their grief, recognize that people grieve differently and keep your negative comments to yourself.
DO SAY:
The best thing to say in almost all situations like this is “I am so sorry.” A hug is nice, too. Or, if you are so inclined, “. . .tell me about your son/daughter.” It won’t make your friend worse. If she cannot talk about it, she won’t. More likely, she will be delighted to tell you about her child. One of the worst things about losing a child is the fear that he or she will be forgotten, even to the parent herself. Talking about it at times, helps.
How are you getting along? If you need to talk, I’m here.
And mean it. Like almost everything in nature, feelings need to be let out. If they don’t, they fester and explode or worse, back up and become poison. Listen to your friend. Ask her how she is doing physically. Encourage her to take care of herself. Sometimes, grieving can lead to depression, drug or alcohol abuse, or even suicidal thoughts.
Keep an eye on your friend. You can kindly steer the grief-stricken friend to talk about other things if you think she is stuck. Or maybe get her a book like How to Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies, by Therese Rando.
Isolation makes everything worse. If you care, listen. It will do wonders. Invite your friend to do things to get her out of the house. Scrapbook parties, exercise classes, shopping, comedic movies, walking your dogs–anything is better than sitting in an empty house.
Keep asking. Sometimes she won’t accept an invite. But she will come around. Don’t give up.
Take it from someone who knows. Losing friends along with a child just adds to the tragedy. Don’t let it happen.
I love you. Everyone needs to hear that. ❤
















