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My Battle With The Beast

August holds my fear. It holds my happiness and feeling of wholeness. August is where ‘who I was’ lives and ‘who I became’ appeared. August holds my sons last breath. It holds my whole heart. August holds captive my sons future and every motherly wish I could ever have for him.

As I stand on the doorstep of another anniversary, I have started to wander into the past, hoping to pull with me each and every moment, no matter how significantly small, from our final weeks with Toby. But, as it does in a grievers soul, the terrifying fear and stillness, that lives inside the 24th of this month; the demons that guard the door back into my life two years ago growl and snarl looking directly into my face, almost taunting me. “Come in. Step through that door again. You think you have more armor, better armor, this year? Give it a try.” Taunting me.

There have been moments over the past few weeks when I can feel the anxiety of battle manifesting in my bones. Like my body knows what’s coming, but my mind, it is trying to focus. Realign. The ache inside my bones. The heaviness inside my arms – 9lbs of happiness, to be exact, it’s there. I feel it. My heart beating so fast in my chest, I am afraid that because it is shattered it’s going to break lose inside me and I am going to lose the little pockets of hope that I have been digging for, forever.

Have you ever thought about your heart? I don’t mean what the science tells us. I mean really thought about how big our hearts get when they are filled with love – real love?

How do our hearts get that big?

It’s almost as if the happiness, joy, thankfulness, wonder, awe, pride, excitement – it all seeps out into our pours and tells us “This is happiness. This is what you were made for.” Have you felt that?

I have. I did. Two years ago. Toby was 12 weeks old. I was in the car. Sitting at a stoplight, talking and singing with Luke. I sat and watched both of my boys in the rear view mirror – Luke laughing and Toby looking across the back seat at his brother with curious eyes. My heart swelled. I looked at them and thought “My God. They’re so beautiful. I am so lucky to be their Mom. I couldn’t love them more.”

I am caught in that moment. That was the morning of August 24. Those were the final moments I had with Toby before I dropped him off for work.

How in Gods name could I have left him that day and not known how our lives would change?

I can still feel that feeling, except now when it comes over me, tears flow from my eyes so heavily and they don’t stop for a very long time. My breath is sucked out from within and I can feel all the brokenness inside me.

That’s where my happiness lives – inside the early hours of August 24. When I thought I was living my dream. What I had prayed for, longed for, worked for, wished for – my whole, beautiful family. Literally my pride and joy. Were right beside me and in an instant, gone.

That is also where the deepest pain and sorrow, pain I didn’t even know existed, came alive. It was awakened. Its rumbling that day, its pressure to get out of those places it was locked in, and melt my soul, it succeeded.

That pain is like lava, it is so fiercely hot, paralyzing, it melts every other feeling away. It turns every feeling to stone. It molds your heart into a shape that is unrecognizable and also leaves you feeling just the same – “Who is this? Who am I looking at? What did we do to deserve this? Where is my life?”

Where is my son?”

August is my month where all these demons come alive. It is the worst month of the year for me – where I have been climbing to get to for 24 months has to wrestle with the Devil and where he wants to drag me back down to. Where my faith is tested every second of the day and where the pain of becoming a grieving mother never dulls.

Pray for me, as I go to battle with this beast. Remind me, in any way possible, that our beautiful Toby is still alive inside all those million pieces that my heart has been broken into. Show my family his love and joy can make a difference in someone’s day. Those are what I arm myself with as the knob turns to open the door on this horrific month.

August holds my son & my heart.

God help this broken mother make it through.

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Love & Prayers,
Katie & Dan

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