Losing a Child to a Drug Overdose
Losing a child to a prescription drug overdose…putting words to this horrific nightmare is today’s guest author, MaryBeth Cichocki. MaryBeth wrote this post in response to the outpouring of feelings shared by readers of her earlier post, “Coping With a Son’s Death by Drug Overdose.”
MaryBeth Cichocki is a registered nurse living in the state of Delaware. She lost her youngest son, Matt, to an overdose of prescription drugs on January 3rd 2015. After his death she was unable to return to her world of taking care of critically ill babies in the N.I.C.U. She now devotes her time to raising awareness and educating the community on the addictive nature of prescription drugs. She started writing a blog shortly after Matt died titled, Mothers Heart Break, which she shares on her Facebook page of the same name. MaryBeth has written many articles on the disease of addiction and its impact on families. She has been published in The Hill, The Huffington Post, The Fix, The Addict’s Mom, Addiction Unscripted and countless others. She has testified in her state’s Capitol during the Joint Finance Committee hearings, sharing her story of the difficulty she experienced while trying to find comprehensive treatment for her adult son during his addiction. She has spent time trying to secure additional funding for those suffering from Substance Use Disorder living in her state.
“Hate the disease, love the addict. Addiction is the only disease you get punished for having,” says MaryBeth.
Losing a Child to a Drug Overdose – The Grieving Hearts Club by MaryBeth Cichocki
Mother of Matt, MaryBeth’s youngest son died of a prescription drug overdose on January 3, 2015.
Some things in life go against nature. Burying your child is the greatest of them. Losing your child goes against the cycle of life. Children should live on holding our hand as we say goodbye, not the other way around. Losing a child changes everything. Life is now unbalanced. Everything now spinning out of control. Hopes and dreams shattered at your feet. What you thought could never happen has happened sucking the joy out of your life and replacing it was a grief so profound it takes your breath away.
Everyday this club adds more members. Mothers like me, now stuck in the fog of disbelief. Mothers who did everything in their power to avoid membership to this group are now bonded by a grief like none other. A grief so powerful and unending it captures your soul and sends it spiraling to the ground. Life is now in pieces. You walk through days feeling lost. You have become the walking dead. Your grief wraps its arms around your heart and refuses to let it go.
In the beginning your mind fills with disbelief. Shielding you from the harsh reality that you now call life. Your brain stays shrouded in fog so thick seeing beyond its walls is impossible. Then it hits like a slap so hard you are left breathless and on your knees. Your child is dead. A victim of a horrible disease. This disease marked them as disposable, a burden to society. Your child died from the disease of addiction.
Your grief is palpable. It courses through your veins like blood. It is never ending. Brief sleep is your only respite. Your dreams of happier days may come and comfort your heart, but when you wake reality is waiting. Your child is dead, ripped from your life. You remain unable to find comfort.
Your days are spend praying for a re-do. You question every decision ever made. You battle the guilt that seeps into your brain as you rethink every word you spoke or action you took. Conversations with your child are now burned into your brain. Last hugs and I love you’s feed your soul. Little things that remind you of your child bring you to your knees. A bag of chips they loved, a smell, last pictures leave you struggling to breathe. Your brain refuses to let you believe your child is really gone. Noting that the reality of your loss will take you to a place of no return. Physical pain becomes a part of daily living. There are days you feel like you are slowly losing your mind.
If you believe, you pray. Every morning and every night. Praying for forgiveness, acceptance and guidance. You pray that their bodies are whole and healthy. Their brains no longer tortured by the demon cravings they were unable to escape while alive. You ask for signs. You look to the sky into the clouds yearning to see something that will give you a sense of peace. Cardinals in your yard have new meaning. A song, a sunset, clouds that resemble an angel flood your heart with waves of hope that your child is safe and in a better place.
Your bookshelves now hold books you never thought you would ever need or receive. Books on losing a child. Books on stages of grief and how to survive each one. Books no mother should ever need to touch or read. Books written by authors who have survived near death experiences and tell of bright light and vivid colors. Of peace, happiness and beautiful music. Stories of feeling great love and feelings of being with family. No pain, no fear, no wanting to return to their battered bodies. Just a peace they never experienced on earth. Books on the afterlife become your bible as you search for answers to the unknown.
Your truth is you want them back. You would give your life in exchange for theirs. You realize that living the roller coaster, chaotic life of loving an addict is far better than your reality. The lies, stealing and everyday chaos seem like a walk in the park when compared to the endless grief that surrounds your world. You dream of a future that will never be. Meeting girlfriends who become wives. Weddings and birthdays and babies you will never hold in your arms. You close your eyes and go to a world where your heart doesn’t hurt. Even for a little while you allow yourself the luxury of a dream. Your world of what if’s gives you a temporary reprieve from your broken world.
Holidays and birthdays now come with gut punches. You’ve learned how to avoid the parties. Other mother’s plans remind you of your loss. Your family now broken. Old traditions are too painful to continue. New traditions feel like a betrayal to your child. Family pictures are now missing the face you long to see. Your mind tells you to move on but your heart doesn’t know how.
Friends have returned to their lives. Back to their living children. Their calls and visits become less frequent leaving you alone with your grief. They say it’s been…..you should be doing. They break your already broken heart. Your pain is too much for them. They can only come around if you get happy. You learn that being alone is better than feeling like a stranger in a room full of people who are afraid to look your way. Afraid to speak your child’s name. Afraid that someday they will know your grief. The excuse of not knowing what to say gets old as you learn to accept your solitude. True friends shine like diamonds on your dark days. You can count them on one hand.
You are trying to find a new meaning to life. Your loss has left a void as deep as the ocean. Your time was spent trying to save your child. You are angry and battle acceptance. The stages of grief warn you that these feelings will come. Your anger is directed not toward your child, but toward the stigma that continues to follow your grief. The stigma that shows on the faces of people when they hear the word overdose. No sympathy just accusatory looks as if you caused the disease. As if your child’s dream was to grow up to become an addict. You refuse to accept their ignorance.
Your anger fuels your strength. Your loss becomes a passion. You find a voice you never knew existed. Your soul comes alive using your grief as a tool. Your pain pushes you toward a path that becomes your new purpose. Your journey is to honor your child. To educate the public about this misunderstood disease. To make changes in the broken system that helped kill your child. To prevent another mother’s heartbreak. You received an education you didn’t sign up for. You are the mother of all mothers. You loved and lost your addicted child. You are their voice. You are their warrior. Their fight is over. Yours has begun. You are the mother of an addict. You will not be silenced. In you they will live on forever.
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My heart aches & breaks for you.
I am so sorry that you are now an unsolicited member of the horrible club of a mother who has had to bury a child.
I lost my precious daughter 18 months ago. She had breast cancer.
While I did not lose my daughter to her drug addiction, I do understand the heartache of having a child battling drug addiction. We want so badly to save them & to have the “do overs”. But we can’t.
And the guilt….oh the guilt is so intense. (I carried additional guilt because I, too, am a drug addict. By the grace of God, I will have 15 years clean in October) I had to learn to forgive myself.
I am so grateful that you are directing you grief, hurt & anger in such a positive way. Such an honor you are bestowing upon your precious son. Keep his love & memory alive. And know that your doing so may save many lives or even just one life. But you & I both know that on precious life is so very important and will keep another mother (or father) from what you are going through each moment & day.
I will lift you up in prayer each day. And I pray that God’s love & peace will guide you each day.
~ Sandi
Sandy. I am so sorry for your loss. We should never bury our children. It really doesn’t matter what takes them from us. The grief is overwhelming and changes who we are. God bless you always.
Powerful message about the pain of losing a child to addiction and the strength that one can find to help others and advocate for change.
Fran. Thank you for your positive comment. Losing Matt has changed the person I once was into someone I never wanted to be. We never know where life will lead us. I find the greatest comfort in helping others.
Thank you for your courage to share your moving story, MaryBeth. Personal stories are more powerful.
Jody. Thank you for reading my story. I share my journey in hopes of helping others who walk in my shoes.
I likewise lost my son to overdose I believe. I need to under stand more . Why did the pharmacy fill this last script from the er. How did he die. So many questions.
Grace. I understand your need I still wonder after 21 months why things happened the way they did. I have the toughest time with acceptance. I doubt it will ever come. Know you are not alone in your quest for the truth or your grief. Hugs from a mother who gets it.
Too often lives are lost unnecessarily. So sorry for your loss but thank you for sharing. Prescription drug overdose is one of the biggest challenges of our time, particularly when it comes to suburban moms and their children.
Thank you for your comment. This has been the most incredible journey for me. I’m trying to educate parents about the dangers of prescription drugs.
I lost my son Matt 23 days ago to a heroin overdose. It started with narcotics prescribed for him after a serious motorcycle accident shattered his leg when he was 23. We walked the exact path you described as a family for the last 10 years. It is a horrible comfort to know someone knows my life so intimately.
Thanks for your post. It helped me to understand what my mom might be feeling.
My oldest brother died in his early 40’s of a heroin overdose. He was an addict his entire life. He began when he was a child (maybe 10 or 11) and kept progressing onto harder drugs.
When we were kids, my mom physically and emotionally abused him. My middle brother and I had to watch it while he endured it. It was a horrible way to grow up. My brother was a sensitive soul and the abuse tore him apart. It split my family in two. As my brother grew up (and when he got too big to beat with the vacuum cleaner), my mom realized what she had done and she repeatedly apologized and tried to help him. She was a single mom who worked full time as a nurse.
Maybe a year or so before he died, my brother would threaten to kill my mom. He’d stab her furniture, break her things, burn her important papers, sell her things, then go do drugs. He even used to take her pets out to the country and leave them there. Everyone in my family kept this information from me because my mom didn’t want me to tell her to kick him out and get a restraining order. But, finally the threats became too much and she had to cut him off. He overdosed a few months later. My dad also cut him off a while before he died. Not long after my oldest brother died, then tragically, my middle brother died as well. A double whammy.
After my older brother’s death, my mom blamed herself for his overdose. She cannot and will not forgive herself. She feels like she created his addiction through her abuse.
I do feel like she contributed to his becoming a drug addict. But, I also tell her that she did the best she could with the resources she had at the time. Our childhood was an emotional roller-coaster. We never knew when our mom was going to explode. I hid from her, both of my brothers did drugs. My middle brother became an adrenaline junkie and eventually died in an ATV accident. (She also blames herself for my middle brother’s death). And, the older one died of a heroin overdose. She has always pictured herself as a savior. And it makes her feel good to go above and beyond to rescue people. But, she couldn’t rescue her sons and that knowledge haunts her.
I think now, she’s just waiting to die. She’s getting her affairs in order and I think she’s going to die of a broken heart. I have told her over and over again, that she did apologize to him and that the only thing left to do is to forgive herself. I also tell her that I love her.
And, it’s so upsetting for me because I feel lost in all of this. I’m a stay at home mom. I’m never been into drugs, I went to college, I’m pretty well-balanced and happy, and my son is incredible. I guess we all have ways of coping with trauma. Mine was to hide from her, avoid drugs at all costs, and move away from home asap. My childhood was horrible but I survived and have thrived. My brothers didn’t and that’s tragic.
I don’t know what to do except call her and chat about stuff. Her grief is so all-consuming and heart breaking. I’m still looking for books that deal with child abuse survivors, drug overdose and dealing with the blame and grief that follows but haven’t found much. She really is a different person now and she lives her life with regret and a heavy heavy heart.
I lost my daughter a month ago to a relapse. The compounding factor was she was 8 months pregnant and the baby also died. I am lost.
We lost our son 8 days ago to a drug overdose. There were people there but no one called 911 until he was gone. Josh has used heroin for close to 10 years. He held a job. He was in and out of our life. Sometimes he was the child we remembered, other times he was not. He was 42 years old. He died without a home or any possessions besides his clothes. He has been in and out of jail. He missed major holidays by choice, forgot to call on birthdays. He did not always answer his phone. We learned to not give him money but to buy groceries, phone cards, and tobacco. He was the child that made us parents. Our first born. We all feel guilt, his sister, his grown son and his dad and me. We love and miss him very much
I lost my son last year to a heroin overdose. I am slowly trying to find my place in life without him. Finally searching out places to connect with other people like me. To find comfort in a dark world. To understand what I can possible due now to create something positive out of this darkness.
I am in search of a light to put in this world to make my son’s life be a purpose for someone else. If this tragedy can save someone’s life or being hope to another parent out there then maybe it could bring healing to our family.