The following was sent to me the other day from my friend Debra. I am grateful for her friendship and thought I would share as no matter how hard you think it is to get through this day.
“Grief is Important”
Debra had a good friend of hers read this at MargaretAnn’s funeral.

It Will Change Your Life

By Dale Hanson Bourke

“Everyday Miracles – Holy Moments in a Mother’s Day” 1989

Time is running out for my friend. We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family. What she means is that her biological clock has begun its countdown and she is being forced to consider the prospect of motherhood.

“We’re taking a survey,” she says, half joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?” “It will change your life,” I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.

“I know,” she says. “No more sleeping in on Saturday, no more spontaneous vacations…” But that is not what I mean at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her.

I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbearing heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound to raw that she will be forever vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking, “What if that had been my child?” That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will look at the mothers and wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think she should know that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will immediately reduce her to the primitive level of a she-bear protecting her cub.

That a slightly urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation. That the anger she will feel if that call came over a lost toy will be a joy she has never experienced.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.

She might successfully arrange for childcare, but one day she will be waiting to go into an important business meeting, and she will think about her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure he is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday routine decisions will no longer be routine. That a visit to McDonald’s and a five-year-old boy’s understandable desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in the restroom.

I want her to know that however decisive she may be at the office, she will second guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same way about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.

That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not so much to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My friend’s relationship with her husband will change, I know; but not in the ways she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to always powder the baby or who never hesitates to play “bad guys” with his son. I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my modern friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my child’s future.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your son learn to hit a baseball. I want to capture for the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real that it hurts.

My friend’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.

You’ll never regret it,” I say finally. Then I reach across the table, and squeezing my friend’s hand, I offer a prayer for her and me land all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way in to this holiest of callings.

Debra Smith-Andersen CEO/Founder
margaretannsplace

My own daughter was born the day after Mother’s Day, a miracle, a holy moment an experience I shall never regret. “Happy Mother’s Day many blessings and peace to all of you.”

A few weeks ago when I came home from the doctor one of the neighborhood boys was outside. I stopped the car to chat with him. This boy now so big and now in High School.

This same boy who was only a young lad two seasons ago was the only person from my neighborhood who actually stopped me to let me know he was sorry about my son. That moment in time I shall never forget.

I woke up this morning and to my surprise as I looked out our sliding glass window I saw an arrangement of floral petals placed on some green leaves upon my small glass top table on the patio.

You see when I stopped to chat with this boy a few weeks ago and I thanked him for stopping that day to say he was sorry about Jonathan.

We spoke of motherly love.

We spoke of his first semester in High School

We spoke of his trials and tribulations at school.

We spoke about so much more…

We spoke of Jonathan and laughed

We spoke of motherly love.

During our little chat I had just mentioned the fact that Jonathan’s Grandfather had told him no matter what you do each day give your mother something, whether that be a blade of grass, a weed, a daisy, a rock, a stick, a flower, that dead ugly bug or better yet a hug everyday.

Today I woke up to beautiful petals on my table and new that through Jonathan on my new journey:

I made a difference in someone’s life.

A friend of mine were conversing the other day, what she said to me stunned me, as she has lost a child as well. I am grateful that we spoke that day. This is what she said.

Anger is part of the grief you feel, along with sadness, frustration and guilt. Those feelings are all normal and eventually the grief will fade and become part of who you are!

I hope someday soon, I will be far along enough in my journey to be able to take her words and apply them to my feelings. Right now, I don’t want this to be part of who I am; I want my baby back, my son that wasn’t meant to die. Maybe the answer is yes it is painful to overdose on heroin when a mother has to loose her son to a senseless accidental overdose. I would not wish this new journey I follow on anyone
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I found this article and the link is below! The verb age is a tad bit raw, just saying, just in case.

All that I know on the subject I know first hand… I’m a recovering heroin addict, and have, on more than one occasion, overdosed.  From pricking the skin, jacking it and then finally mainlining it you feel little pain… about six or seven seconds later a rapturous rush comes over you like never before amazing too amazing

It’s at that point that you think

“Whoa… maybe I did a little too much…”

Unfortunately, that’s all you have time to think… now what you don’t know is that you’ve passed out from the drugs unrelenting assault on your entire system… soon your breathing will slow and eventually you’re heart will stop.

Very, very painless “And then you’re dead! Perfect and painless!”

In fact the bliss that one would feel before they died of a heroin overdose would be immense not painful.

But let’s roll back to right after you shot up and got that explosive rush:

One of your buddies showed up and saw you barely breathing on the bathroom floor..
Being the smart guy that he is, he called EMS and now they’ve got you in the back of the truck while they prep that’ god-awful narcotic antagonist that’s about to go it you. At this point you’re still barely breathing, drawing shallow, gurgley breaths while drool dribbles out one side of your mouth. You’re extremities have turned purple and hair is now completely matted down with sweat. It is now time for them to administer the shot. Within seconds you reawaken to find yourself in a state of utter confusion and sudden, horrendous agony. You’re heart is racing and nausea sets in… As you spew vomit into the bucket the EMS has provided you, all the while the only thing going through your mind at this point is, “Holy Sh*t… I went from feeling amazing to truly wanting to die… how the H*LL did this happen?”

Honestly, that is the worst pain in the world when they bring you back from an overdose it’s countering the effects of a drug that was made to treat the pains of certain amputees or grievously injured men during the war (a.k.a. morphine).

So, in conclusion, an overdose from heroin is not painful being revived most definitely is and if one should find themselves experiencing that pain they should consider themselves lucky! Credit to the above posting was found on WIKIANSWERS

Like I stated above, I would not wish this journey of mine on anyone. Mom’s hug and talk to your kids. Kids, hug and talk to your mother, stay safe make good choices — do the right thing. Peace to you my angel, Peace to you today!