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RHOC Alum Kara Keough Pens Heartbreaking Open Letter To Grieving Moms After Losing Infant Son

Losing a toddler is among the worst experiences we may think about, however Kara Keough is utilizing that unfathomable loss to achieve out to others who’ve suffered comparable ache.

The former Real Housewives of Orange County star first opened up in regards to the lack of her toddler son, McCoy, again in May.

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Six months ago, I laid my eyes on you for the first time. I turned your big body around then looked at Daddy with a mixture of shock and pride and said, “It’s a boy.” Three hours later, I limped into the NICU to start what would be my first and last days of kissing you. Somehow, I kissed you a lifetime’s worth of kisses in six days. All without one kiss back. I still think about what it felt like to kiss you, and that I never got kissed back. It all still makes my throat ache like I’m being choked. I hate that the thought of kissing you creates this painful and involuntary spasm. I’d much rather be thinking of that involuntary happiness spasm that would overtake your body as a 6-month-old. Oh what I’d do to see those little joyful jolts, with your chubby arms air-pumping and flapping while your legs do that spring-loaded kick combo. Would we be dropping a nap, hearing you laugh, starting solids? Would all my shirts have drool pools on them? Would nursing you prove to be more of an Olympic effort around this time? And just where am I supposed to put all this love? This love that I reserved just for you? I still put it in you, of course. The love doesn’t leave just because you did. It’s a hard lesson to learn. I was feeling my love for you spilling out of me, in the form of tears, guttural sobs, and that worthless guilt. But there are better ways to feel my love for you. Missing you something terrible doesn’t have to be the only way to miss you. I want to miss you wonderfully. As in, full of wonder. Recently, your Daddy held me as he told me: “Each day, when you feel that strong breeze, or the sun hits your face, or you hear our daughter laugh… that’s our son loving his mama.” I considered the beauty in my life and how, like your Daddy said, each one of those little happy winks are you loving me. It’s you kissing me back. And that made my throat soften, and my heart open. And that, my boy, is the gift you’ve given me. A heart broken wide open is still an open heart. We love you, McCoy. And we miss you something wonderful.

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In spite of the horrific circumstances, Keough has continued to share her grief with the world in poignant Instagram posts marking the milestones of what could be her son’s adolescence.

Related: Kara Memorializes Son With Special Tattoo

On Thursday, the truth star took issues a step additional in an open letter to different grieving moms who misplaced their infants. Posted on the Good Morning America web site, the letter started:

“To My Fellow Loss Mom,
I want there was one thing else I may name you, one thing else I may name myself. ‘Angel Mom’ feels too fluffy, and ‘Bereaved Mother’ appears like we must be sporting black lace and howling on our knees in a stone church someplace. Don’t get me improper, we’re completely nonetheless howling. But we’re doing it in yoga pants. Lululemons simply do a greater job of hiding our postpartum bellies and serving to us keep away from questions like, ‘When are you due?’ or worse, ‘How’s the child?!’ That’s one factor even grief counselors don’t warn you about: the way you’ll have to interrupt the information of your baby’s loss to strangers, insurance coverage brokers, employers, acquaintances, TSA brokers, everybody.”

OMG. That hadn’t even occurred to us. It’s like your coronary heart is making an attempt to heal from being ripped out, and folks preserve coming alongside to tear your stitches.

The 31-year-old went on to element the shared experiences of dropping a toddler: blaming your self, wishing the world would cease to your grief, individuals who “say the wrong things and … say right things that feel wrong.” She wrote that the very best buddies are those that “can sit quietly with us without feeling the need to fill the silence.”

She continued:

“The space where our babies should be somehow starts feeling less like a gaping hole and more like an invisible fullness as time goes on. We want to hear their names, we want to think about them and smile, we want to see them in the world around us. Milestones hit us like bricks and time feels jumbled. How has it already been so long? And who would they be today?”

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This bear weighs exactly 11 pounds and 4 ounces. Exactly the size of the hole in my heart. But thanks to this thoughtful gift, my arms don’t feel so painfully empty. I can’t quite articulate how much carrying the exact weight of McCoy against my body grounds me. I think my physical need for him will be there forever, the heaviness of his absence always present. But this sure helps. Thank you @kylieraedesigns for this big dude and thank you @mb_jackets for the custom ribbon. Also feeling thankful for my new (first) tattoo, with my son’s ashes in the ink… so that my baby can be with me always. He can stay forever in my arms this way, in the place he last rested. I know I’m privileged in my grief, to have the support of so many. It’s very hard to feel lucky right now, and yet, somehow, I know I am. That being said, I’m very much ready for the dick kicks to stop. To the poor Shipt shopper who remarked “the baby should have been born by now, right?” and the shocked insurance agent, and the others who didn’t mean to throw the grenades they did… when I say “It’s okay,” I don’t mean “I’m okay,” I’m saying I know you didn’t know. But I promise, you’re not upsetting me by “reminding” me, I’ll never need a reminder. I’m just sad that the answer to your question isn’t what I hoped it would be. It should be a joyful Q&A, not a landmine. It should be different. Instead, here I am, clutching a stuffed toy wishing it was a real boy. To my Instead Mamas, I thank you especially for all the continued comfort, encouragement, and love. And you’re right, it is getting easier to bear. (Look! I even did a pun. Good for me.)

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In beautiful prose, she wrote:

“Every day, each minute, one other mom joins us on this membership. It’s a membership nobody needs to be part of, however the love and compassion inside it are not like some other. The instantaneous bond that ignites between two girls once we sit collectively on this ache is nearly religious. Sorrow like this, grief like ours, carves profound depth into our souls. We’re now not flat, shiny objects, however we’re as a substitute embossed by our loss. Somehow extra stunning for it.
If not wasted, grief may be an unbelievable present. After the preliminary haze, the lens by means of which we see the world sharpens our view. It’s virtually like that first victorious gulp of air after being underwater too lengthy, a lot extra treasured than the sip earlier than. In grief, the spirit of the Earth someway reveals herself to us. Sunsets are technicolor, wind is euphoric, and rain is an echoing refrain of our hearts. Rainbows and butterflies appear to point out up only for us simply once we want them most.”


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You would have been two months old today. You’d have found your favorite pacifier by now, and I’d be grateful that I was finally able to get those first (beautiful) 6+ hour stretches of sleep that make me feel like a Disney Princess with birds tweeting above my head. Instead, I’m clocking in 12+ hours every night because sleeping is decidedly easier than my waking hours. We should be cleaning up your blowouts, instead we’re dealing with our own shit. At this point, you would be finding your voice – squawking and squealing and making our hearts explode. Our hearts have still detonated, but for different reasons. I should be looking at your face for most of my day, instead I have to search for you elsewhere. I see you in songs, in the sky, in the sea, in your sister’s face, in your daddy’s arms. I’ll keep looking for you for as long as I live. Being without you is hard, but being your mom is one of my favorite things about myself. I love you, McCoy Casey.

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Kara, who can also be mom to Decker, 4, wrote {that a} “new us” may be born from the unimaginable loss. She stated:

“The new us can love once more, regardless of understanding the chance. That sort of bravery didn’t exist in us earlier than. But alas, right here we’re. Never transferring on however transferring with. Grief is like happening a bear hunt: We can’t go over it, we will’t go beneath it, we have now to undergo it. Squish, squash.”

Related: Chrissy Teigen’s First Instagram Post Since Tragic Pregnancy Loss

Keough concluded:

“Yes, being a mom with empty arms turns into an odd juxtaposition. More joyful regardless of struggling, extra alive regardless of dying and extra loving regardless of loss. We ask ourselves, ‘Where are we supposed to put all this love, all this love that we had reserved for them?’ The reply turns into so clear: throughout us, in fact, and into them, nonetheless. Most importantly — and with no hesitations — we should put the love again into ourselves as soon as once more. Terry Tempest Williams insists, ‘Grief dares us to love once more.’
So, to grief, we reply, ‘You triple canine dare me?’”

Wow. What a really unbelievable piece of writing, and what power it will need to have taken to write down. We commend Kara for her openness, and we hope for anybody on the market struggling an identical loss, that her phrases make them really feel much less alone.

[Image through Kara Keough/Instagram]

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