In 1985, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy that my husband and I named Brendan. He was the first child for us; the first grandchild on both sides of the family. We quickly settled into being a family. Life was perfect. At first, I was afraid I wouldn't know how to be a good mother. I must have called my mother a zillion times to ask her advice about everything! I read whatever I could get my hands on. I questioned all my friends, who had
children, to learn about "mothering."

One rainy, Friday morning in October, 1985, our "perfect life" turned into a nightmare. Our beautiful son, our Brendan, was dead; the apparent victim of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). The weeks that followed his death are some-what blurry, but one thing I will never forget is the teller at the bank who was the first to ask, "How is your baby?" I felt faint and short of breath as I quickly explained that he had died of SIDS a few weeks earlier, and I made a quick exit. My husband and I immediately made the decision to get away for a few weeks; to go somewhere where no one would ask about Brendan. After a two week trip to the east coast, we returned home and tried to pick up the pieces of our once "perfect" life.

In May of 1986, I dreaded the first Mother's Day without my Brendan. Was I still a mother? How could I celebrate Mothers Day if my baby was dead? I remembered the time that I had spent worrying whether I would be a good mother

Where was I to look to learn to be a "bereaved mother"?

Who would guide me and hold me up when the world was crashing down around me? As I argued and debated with myself over my status as a mother, I was fortunate to have a loving, supportive husband and kind family, friends and relatives to reassure me that yes, indeed, I was still a mother. Just because Brendan was not physically in the here and now, did not negate that I carried him safely in my womb for nine months and held him to my breast for nourishment for four months and eighteen days.

As an outward sign of my motherhood, my husband presented me with a beautiful garnet ring that was "from Brendan"! Brendan had been so attracted to the colour red, we decided that it must be his favourite colour. I received flowers and phone calls from family and friends to acknowledge the brief but wonderful life of a very special little boy. The message came out loud and clear.