STUGs

I am sitting in Spencer's bed room listening him sleep. He snores. I think he snores so I can know he is still breathing when I wake up in the middle of the night to be sure he is alive still.
When I was in a grief group for bereaved parents there was a mom who just had her rainbow baby a few months before. She said that she was scared of losing her living baby and would continually visualize different ways he could die. For example she was walking over a bridge with him in the stroller, she thought if he falls in he might drowned. She hurried over the bridge. I think I do this too. Last month I bought an escape ladder for Anne's bedroom because its the only one with no roof below the window. What if there is a fire? I also bought 2 carbon monoxide detectors for the bedrooms and by the fireplace. I try not to drive my car when the hwy is bad. I have a death grip on Anne in parking lots or I put her in a cart in the parking lot. Anyway, I can live with all these "precautions."
When I have too much alone time I think about why I worry so much and I have a tangible slamming feeling in my chest. My breath gets caught and my legs go numb. I picture my dead son. I remember the horror of labouring a stillborn baby into the world. I remember how he went from being so close to me inside and then wrenched away bc he was dead and he had to be buried. And then I think about my friend who died in an avalanche. My husband was there digging him out. He tried CPR for 45 minutes. Our friend had died on impact. There was nothing to do to save him. Death is so quick. It's like going up the stairs and missing the top step. It's done before you can catch your breath.
And then somehow you have to keep going. You have to get up. Move forward. Reorganize. Try to let go of where you thought you were going and visualize a different path.
My therapist spoke of something called STUGs. Sudden times of unexpected grief.
Most of the time I am fine, but some times they get me.