Grandparents Hurt Too
So since July is the month for bereaved parents, I thought it would be more than acceptable to make a special blog post about grandparents.
Before I had the pleasure of meeting my in-laws, I never knew true, authentic love.
I thought that the way that they loved me,
couldn’t get any better.
But then I saw how they loved our children.
I watched them open up to Ariana and to accept her as their own.
Without any hesitation at all.
I watched how they acted when Bo was born.
They were always so supportive. Dropping everything at the drop of a dime.
He was born and they were there.
They stayed there the entire time that I was in labor.
They knew boundaries and understood all of our fears.
When we needed a sitter or if we were in a tight spot,
they never had a problem taking off work.
I can remember a certain number of times where I got really sick with the flu and had to go to the hospital.
They were there in a matter of minutes. Laure to stay with the kids and Wayne Senior to come and help.
As Bo began to grow I got to see another side.
An even deeper amount of care and love.
Something that was so foreign and different to me.
It was so true and authentic.
So blissful and deep.
I love them so much.
I’ll admit that at first I was petrified to let them in.
I was so scared but something told me that it was so safe.
And before you knew it,
they were over all the time.
Every weekend that they had a chance,
we were having cookouts and family time.
It felt so good to have somebody in my life that wanted to be there.
I felt even better knowing that our children were able to be loved on so deeply.
Bo and his papa shared a special bond.
He did a lot of first things with his grandpa.
He saw his first turkey with his papa, his first deer with his papa, his first fish with his papa.
Of course all of them with his daddy right next to him but his papa was always on the other side.
And as close as he was with his papa he shared and even more inseparable bond with his grandma.
They were together so very often and it was such an amazing feeling to be able to witness a love to pure.
And as deep as this love was for the three of them, we thought that we had time.
We all did.
We thought that we had so much time left together.
Bo was here for very close to 11 months of his life. He had a specific mission. It was to love. To be loved. To spread love. And he did that. And so much more.
I often think of the photo above when I think of grandma and grandpa with our beloved son.
This photo sticks out so much in my mind because they both are right there with him.
They both are there loving him.
They both are there kissing him.
Letting him know that he is safe.
That he is loved.
And then it happened.
The worst day of our lives.
And although my sister-in-law experienced the loss of her son, Wil, I wasn’t present in the Hartwig family yet.
But I can only imagine the support that was given from her mom and dad.
I can remember that day like it was yesterday.
And yet it seems like forever ago.
I remember screaming and pleading with God.
Thinking he can’t take my baby.
He can’t take our baby.
I remember watching the paramedics do CPR with him on our front porch.
And while they did that, all I could think about was my daughter upstairs enduring the horror that she had seen and heard.
I remember calling my mother-in-law and screaming, “get here now!“
And she was there. In a matter of minutes.
She said she’d never forget the sound of my voice, screaming.
And she stayed here most of the morning.
And as horrible as I feel for not having her come to the hospital, my heart tells me that there’s a reason for it.
She gets to experience him the way he was.
The way the love between the two of them was blissful and complete.