Raise Money to Move Our Son's Grave

They say that when you become a parent that the love you feel for your child is the best kind of love you will ever feel. That love never goes away. Your love grows stronger as the days go on. This is true. Even if your child is no longer living your love grows with each passing day, except with the death of a child the missing a piece of your heart is also present. In 2015 I finally got to see what all the fuss was about. As soon as I looked at his face I knew what true love for the rest of my life felt like. God had plans though, ones that didn't include bringing him home with us. On August 26, 2015, he passed away on his way to Vanderbilt Children's hospital. My husband, cousin, and I went to pick him up and drove him back home to the funeral home almost eight hours away.
  My Husband, Dad, and a few friends helped to dig his grave and placed his coffin in the ground themselves with no help from a funeral director, and then shoveled the dirt on top of their son and grandson. I'm pretty sure both of them have deep emotional issues from having to do this, seeing as I do and I didn't even have to pick up a shovel. We buried him in my Grandfather's (I call him Papaw) backyard. This is all on me because at the time I couldn't bear to have my baby somewhere that I couldn't get to him. I figured that if I wanted to see him all I had to do was walk out onto the back porch and there he would be. Everyone tried to talk me out of it for various reasons, but being selfish I just wouldn't listen. I didn't realize that a day might come when our family no longer owned the land and I was supposed to have my Papaw donate the land as a cemetery. No-one, official wise, explained any of that to me. All I was told was that as long as it was privately owned land then it was legal. Honestly, I didn't want to have his body burned or put somewhere I couldn't get to him if I wanted. What I didn't see coming was four years later my Papaw signing himself into the nursing home leading to foreclosure of his house and land and the bank selling it to someone else.
  I've felt since December 2019 that I was going to have to move him somewhere else. I researched everything I possibly could on the matter and didn't get anywhere. I even called the funeral home where we took him and all they told me was that I had to have his burial place changed on the death certificate. Finally, I called the funeral home in the town I live and talked to someone who knew what they were talking about. He told me to find another resting place and they were supposed to take care of the rest.  After that, I stopped thinking about it. I had a newborn I needed to take care of and I knew that if I dwelled on it too much that I would sink back into the deepest depression I had ever felt. It was great. I was enjoying my life again and I just kept pushing. Until the other day when I got a call from the real estate agent.
  A couple of months back I asked one of my friends that lives near his grave to leave a note for me on the door of Papaw's old house, leaving my name and phone number. The other day I was sitting here taking pictures and she called me. She said she had been trying to find the parents of the child buried in the back yard and she was so glad to have gotten the note I left, that her supervisor had asked her to try and get a hold of us. I told her that when I figured out when we would be moving it that I would get a hold of her. That day I started researching and gave myself a panic attack when I thought I had to pay between 8 and 20 thousand dollars. Today I called the funeral home back and asked for a rough estimate. He said where the grave isn't as big as usual and the distance wasn't that far that he would estimate it around roughly $800.
  I'm just ready to get this over with. The death of a child and going through saying goodbye is more than what anyone should ever have to experience. Five years ago I would have never imagined that my family would have to go through this all over again, and definitely not with the same child. It really does feel like he died all over again. I don't like asking anyone for help, it makes me feel less of a person inside. I mean, I've asked for a soda or something small before, and when we buried Aaron my friend set up a go fund me to help pay for his funeral expenses (and to everyone who donated for that I thank you because most of the reason we buried him the way we did was lack of funds), but I have never asked for this much help that I can think of. I don't know what the process of them digging up my son consists of, if they have to use a vehicle or if it can be dug with shovels, but I can say one thing; I do not want my Husband and Dad to have to go through that again. My Dad said just thinking about it makes him feel like God will be angry with him. That the first time about killed him. My husband doesn't talk about it much, and at one time thought about moving him himself until we explained that we would probably go to jail for desecrating a grave. Even though the funeral home never even came to make sure he was buried, and probably wouldn't know the difference if we had moved him ourselves. The fact remains though that neither one of them are capable of putting their minds through that much more trauma.
  My biggest fear, besides my step-daughter and other son passing away, is hearing that our precious baby has been dug up by someone we don't know and his remains are somewhere I can't get to him, or worse, burned. I honestly don't know if they can do that, but I do know he is now buried on a plot of land that belongs to someone else and they are in favor of having him moved. That is enough. It needs to be done before they take action, for my son's peace and our sanity. Thank you for reading all of this, and even if you don't donate just a prayer that everything will work out, in the end, is really all we need. May God bless you with everything you ever needed!