16 Months

We lost another outstanding young man in our community recently, and it hits very  close to home because he was Carter’s age, went to a middle school in the same district Carter attended, and chose to end his life to escape whatever torment he battled. My heart and spirit are both crushed. My own pain was brought to the forefront again when I heard the news on social media of all places. We lost another one. Another child. Another baby with his whole life ahead of him. Another precious light that has left this world of darkness when what we desperately need is more light to shine every single day. We need hope, and we’re losing it. While I don’t know the reasons, I know that a family is left behind devastated and with questions for which there may be no real answers. It’s so very, very frustrating. Everyone wants someone to blame and something concrete to hold onto, but for a lot of suicides, you don’t get that kind of closure, and it’s so very hard on the families who are left to bear the burden of the unknown all while people run their mouths and cause more pain by spreading rumors that are unfounded. Nobody seems to understand or be willing to accept that many times we simply cannot make sense of this kind of tragedy. If you had told me that my sweet baby would have taken the steps to end his life all while I was blissfully ignorant and asleep just below his room upstairs, I would have said that was impossible. There would have been a better chance of the sun being blue and the grass being orange rather than me making the horrific discovery the next morning on July 10th, 2017 that will forever haunt me at night and torment me during my days.

I’m feeling a sense of desperation and urgency now that I haven’t truly felt since this time last year when I learned on Nov. 9th, 2017 that we had lost another young man named Sammy to suicide. I was crushed, angry, and I went to FB and made a plea for actions to be taken in our schools to address this crisis. Two local lives in the span of 4 months. Unacceptable! A school board member read that status, contacted me personally, and assured me that my voice and concerns would be shared with our superintendent, and they were. A meeting was scheduled shortly thereafter, and I left feeling hopeful and confident that change would come somehow. I was told that more research would be spent on coming up with solutions in finding programs with proven results to bring to our schools, and that was enough for me at the time. I guess I just trusted that what I was told would come to fruition.  The school year for me was in full swing at that point, and I felt like the Lord was telling me to sit back and take care of myself. While I wanted to be a warrior and save the world, I was a newly bereaved mother who was making every effort just to put one foot in front of the other. I didn’t have a whole lot left in the tank to give, and I felt like I had done what I could do to at least get the ball rolling. I was no expert in any of this…I didn’t know what I was doing…I just knew that I didn’t want any parent to have to experience this kind of pain, especially when I KNEW in my heart and soul that more could be done in our schools to address this mental health issue.

Months passed by and I didn’t hear a word. At that point, I told myself that I would just wait until the summer to meet with Dr. David Cox, a man who is familiar with suicide loss and who was Caroline’s therapist in the months following Carter’s passing. He has made it his mission to address helping young people learn measures to cope with life’s challenges and has even designed a program with proven results. He has training available in place for teachers, he has messages that he has personally created with targets specifically for Christian AND secular schools, and better yet, he has offered to do this for FREE. That’s how much he believes in the program, his message of hope, and the results that he has seen through the years. Joseph called him and took some notes, and I told myself when I had time this summer I would meet with him, create a PPT, and start scheduling meetings with districts to get the message out there, especially when in April, 2018 we found out that a girl, a beautiful angel with a mane of golden hair and a smile that could light up the room, took her life. She was only in the 8th grade…a student at the middle school where I currently teach. Jaden Ruble…another baby gone. Another family left to pick up the pieces. Another community wanting answers. Another school with nothing left to help comfort the family but prayers and support in the means of food, gifts, cards, and texts. Those things are wonderful, but it’s what you do AFTER a life is gone. WE NEED MORE THINGS DONE BEFORE THIS TRAGEDY STRIKES, and I REFUSE TO ACCEPT that what we are doing is enough. IT’S NOT.

Summer came and I was in a depression for most of it. You know this if you have been following the blog. I did nothing the entire month of June but sleep and cry. It was an ugly, bitter month and I felt utterly hopeless and full of anxiety knowing that the one-year anniversary was coming up soon and Carter’s last weeks were all I could think about…reliving all the what-ifs and could’ve, would’ve, should’ve moments, and all the regrets of wishing I had been able to know more and do more. I was in mental hell and in no place to try and do anything except breathe through the pain and just make it through each day.

Summer came and went and I started teaching in a brand new school with grades that I haven’t taught in 13 years…when I say I feel like a first-year teacher most days, that’s an understatement. I’m so far out of my element this semester professionally that it’s laughable. But I’m making it, and I’m trying to give myself grace each day, and it has been working until a week ago when I learned that the most recent suicide was another baby in middle school. I told Joseph that if nobody else in the school system is willing to look at programs as promised to me last year, then by God, I WOULD DO IT MYSELF. WHATEVER IT TAKES. I’m not going to allow my own depression, the busy-ness of my career, or this new baby to distract me ANY LONGER from what I know in my gut should already be taking place, and that is A MESSAGE OF HOPE for ALL STUDENTS…not just the ones who we identify as “at-risk” but EVERY SINGLE ONE needs to be reminded of their worth and value, that today’s problems are mainly temporary ones that can indeed be fixed in time and with proper resources, and that suicide is a permanent solution to those temporary problems. They need to hear from people who have been where they are and who have come out on the other side. They need to hear that their lives matter and how deeply affected people are when they make decisions to end their pain without allowing people even a chance to help them. They need to know that we care and that their lives are precious!

If we can teach kids to put friggin’ condoms on bananas as part of sex education, then it’s not too far of a stretch to expect that most parents would be fine with some mental health awareness and advocacy programs. Suicide prevention is just one component. If they don’t want their child to hear about suicide, then like with most things in education, they can opt out and have that discussion with them at home. But it at least needs to be an option on the table…stay tuned for details. I know I said that last year on social media, and sadly, there were no details forthcoming because I got caught up in my own self…I’ll have to add that regret to my mountain of others, but I mean it this time when I say that I am on it. Change is coming.

Dear Carter,

My sweet boy, it’s hard to even believe that my heart has managed to go on beating without you in my life for 16 months today. I woke up at 3AM in torment this morning just reliving that dark day. I don’t let myself “go there” a lot, because it’s truly more than my mind can handle, but I force myself to from time to time because I feel like if I don’t then I’m not dealing with my grief like I should. I have to face those darkest moments to keep me from being in true denial, I guess.  On days like today when the tears fall like the rain and distractions of college football, Candy Crush, and social media aren’t cutting it, I just want to write. I have to process it somehow, and writing does seem to help, especially when it’s a letter to you- my best boy.

Caroline ordered a pecan praline iced coffee at Cracker Barrel last night as part of her dinner, and I couldn’t help but smile and tell her that you would be proud. Starbucks has their Christmas cups out now with commercials advertising peppermint mocha, and I told her this morning that after I pass my glucose test on Monday (because I failed my first one this week and have to do another one- you know I can’t be on a diet through the holidays so I keep telling myself that I WILL PASS this next one, lol), I’m totally going to celebrate by going to get me one and I’ll probably even make it a venti. Go big or go home, right?  I will drink it and think of you the whole time.

I hope you like the name we have picked out for your baby sister, Carlen Elisabeth. She’s named after you and daddy, and she will always know how very special she is to have a big brother in heaven whose very existence in this world led to her to being a miraculous part of our family. Her story will forever and always be connected to yours, and that gives me more comfort than I can even put into words. I felt her move for the first time this week, and I couldn’t help but cry and thank God the next day for giving me yet another opportunity to carry life. What an honor. I didn’t fully appreciate that with you or with Caroline. Sad to say, I just took it for granted after getting married that I would have kids. I never worried during either one of my pregnancies as I was blissfully naive about a lot of things. Losing you has changed me in a lot of ways…some are bad but some are good. One good thing is that I appreciate so much more now. I have come to realize more of what is truly important and I treasure the little miracles that come our way. Big and small…miracles are everywhere and in my “grief goggles” I can see a lot more clearly now those things that I once was blinded to. My emotions are closer to the surface, I feel and love more deeply, and I feel more gratitude for things that I once took for granted.

The flip side to that is that fear is now a constant presence in my life that I battle. Daddy has a lot of fear, too. That was just made apparent when he came inside and couldn’t find me. I’m sitting at the kitchen table tucked in the corner quietly writing this blog post, but he didn’t see me on his first pass through and apparently went and searched the whole house. When he came back down and laid eyes on me, fear was all over his face. When we can’t find each other, we worry. We never did that before.

I know that fear is a liar…I know that I should think on those things which I know are true, but when I lost you, I lost my compass. Nothing in this world made sense, and it still doesn’t in a lot of ways even though I can clearly see how the Lord has used what Satan meant for evil and brought good from it. I can see that, and I am so thankful for the joy in the midst of the sorrow, but at the end of the day, I’m still left floundering without you, and it hurts. That’s where the bitterness creeps in, because I don’t understand how it went so wrong.

I know it’s not meant for me to understand, and that if I truly knew, then it wouldn’t help me- it would lead to more questions without answers and more regrets. I have to let it go, and I think I do well with letting you rest in peace most days, but I’m your Mama and it hurts that I couldn’t protect you and save you. I failed you in the most tragic way and wish desperately for one more chance to let you know that I love you. I begged God the other day to pull you close and tell you what my heart longed for you to know. I trust that He did. He knows my pain and sees my tears.

It’s about that time for Christmas cookies! I’ve already been asked to help with a meal to prepare for some police officers, and I plan to make a huge plate of cookies in your honor and memory. I still have your last Christmas baking picture as the screensaver on my phone. You, with your little WVES school shirt on, sitting at the kitchen table with nothing on but that and your little white boxer briefs, giving me a little smirk after taking a bite off the star cookie you were supposed to be making look festive and pretty. That’s my favorite picture of you, Carterbug. I will bake and share in your memory this year like we did last year, and I will continue to carry you closely in my heart and mind this season as we learn to live this life without you here to share it with us. It’s so hard, but I take comfort in knowing that you are full of joy and peace just waiting on us to be with you, and that all is indeed well. Until I can see you again with my own two eyes, I’ll try to keep hoping and trusting, and do what I can to see you in my heart and mind’s eyes. I love you, always and forever, my sweet boy.

Boop,

Mama