My Little Brother Died

This is my story about my little brother Terry. He was born to my mother and her second husband when I was three years old. Although I was a little bitty kid, I loved my brother, and liked to play with him. Our favorite game was the belly tickle game, which involved me gently ticking his bare belly, a game our mother had taught me. He would giggle and smile up at me. One day when he was six months old we were playing this game when suddenly he turned blue, his face contorted in agony, his body went rigid, and he died under my hand. Immediately the colors in the room changed from yellow and white to grey and black. The elderly babysitter came in the room (by then I was hiding under his crib in shock) and looked into the crib, and lamented " Oh, What will I do now? " over and over. I thought I had killed him. Just typing this makes my hands shake, 59 years later. Then I forgot the whole episode. I vaguely knew I had had a brother, and was told that he had died of a malformed heart, which went undetected until he died. No one knew that I had been playing with him at the time, or that I had thought I'd killed him, not even me.
My mother and her husband became so depressed over Terry's death they split up after a few months. I had thought that this man was my real father, but one day he angrily told me he wasn't. This made me feel listless and worthless.
I grew up and had a son, but I could not hold or even touch him, and I didn't know why. It wasn't like postpartum depression, it was like blind terror. I gave him to my family to raise, and when he got past infancy, I was able to get back in his life. I was 18 when he was born.
When I was 30 I was enjoying an LSD experience with a trusted friend. While tripping, I recalled a strange experience of being 4 years old and having a doll, which fell on the floor, and the head broke, and the eyeballs rolled out, scaring me. I told my friend " That was scarier than before". My friend said " Before what?" This question was the key that unlocked the buried memory of my brother's death. It was like a light was turned on in my head!
I tried to share this recall with my mother, as she had always wondered what was wrong with me, but she thought I was full of #######4, her exact phrase. Oh, well. At least I knew why I could not abide the presence of babies. I still can't abide them. I wont hold or touch a baby; I'd rather face a loaded gun (which I have done, different story, better outcome).
The presence of babies makes me cold, shaky, and full of adrenaline ready to run. I don't guess I will ever get over this completely. My grown son of 44 years at least understands me. He is such a great guy. He has six children. I never held any of those babies, but I do stuff on occasion with them now that they are bigger, and "safe".
Whew...this is the longest post I've ever made.
There's alot more to how this early event poisoned my life for so long, but you get the main point. If I hadn't have been blessed with the opportunity to remember this event it would still likely be making me doubt and hate myself. How ever one is able to unearth and face these buried traumas, whether through LSD and and an astute friend in my case, or a good therapist, what have you, it is profoundly worthwhile to let the light shine in.

Wow, Puma,
What can be said after such a story.
How amazingly hurtful to a tiny child such random tragedy can be.
Thank you so much for sharing the depth of your insight.
...and of your journey to move out of the self-hatred.

Congratulations on having raised a great son -- in face of a history that sure couldn't have made it easy.

Continued good years to you and yours,
LQ

Dear LoveQuiet,
Thank you, friend.
Puma

thanx so much for sharing your story..i cried.

my heart goes out to you....i send my love x

Dear jocasey,
Thank you, friend. It took me some time to get up the nerve to post this. Like all cats, I hide my wounds. If this can help others come to grips with buried trauma, it has been worthwhile to share this story.

I couldn't read it at first - it made me so sad just thinking what could have happened, but then I started reading and I did end up crying. I'm so sorry this happened to you, I really hope you're feeling better about it. It doesn't matter how long ago it happened, it just matters that it happened. I hope you're okay.

Hi, crazy4fun56,
Thank you for your kind thoughts. I'm fine with this today.
At least I got to have a brother for a few months; that is something I will always cherish.

Yeah! I'm glad you look at it that way. I'd rather have a younger brother than my older brothers any day though... XD

There's nothing i can say......this post hit me so hard i threw up . know i walk with you puma, crawl sometimes too. here on my knees finding that place we share



my sister my bother my family my friend my heart my love my hurt



these tears



with you

Dear Hardcore,
If anyone can gain anything from this sad but mundane tale, it is that even though little children may seem alright with traumatic events that happen in their lives because they don't talk about them as adults will do, every effort should be made to talk with the little ones and draw them out. a child can be difficult to understand because he is not articulate. Often in the hubbub of tragedy the child is overlooked, or misunderstood.
A peculiar story: when I was 8 my Grampa suddenly died. My mother and I went to Gramma's house to the big family wake. I had had a vision of Grampa seeing a neon blue door in the air, and going through it to a new dimension. I assumed this was common knowledge, so I asked my Gramma where did Grampa go? Like, what was on the other side of the door?
Well, poor Gramma burst into tears, and all my relatives gave me the stinkeye, and some chastised my mother, thinking she had not told me about his death. She was very annoyed with me, thinking I was just being mean.
I was extremely embarrassed about the misunderstanding, and silently went off to be by myself.
When children try to communicate with me I try really hard to listen to them, and don't assume just because they may be silent they don't possibly have thoughts on the matters at hand.