It is almost a year ago that I found out that I lost my little girl... I can't believe it still. Last year at this time, I was in holiday mood and the festivities were actually festive. I was busy with my plans for after the holidays, that would be my preparation for my baby to come home. A year ago, at this time, I was full with belly and proud to be so. I was carrying well and daughter was a busy little acrobat.
Today I can't believe it happened to me still. I can't believe I am still a bereaved parent, and now after a year of my life has been spent grieving I think the acceptance process may begin. I know early on, it may have seemed that I 'accepted' the lose, but, truly by accepting it I simply was not rejecting the notion of it. Now accepting it means something different. It means realizing she is gone and never coming back. And I think that is the most frustrating, sad and lonely part for me. All the tears in the world will not put her back in my arms. And it is so hard to believe, but, I think I am starting to realize I have to.
An entire year has past and nothing has changed and all the same life has gone on. And it is so hard because apart of doesn't want life to go on. Apart of me wants to be in that moment forever, while my baby was still apart of me, inside of me and with me. I don't want to lose her even though I already have.
Anger is a more identifiable emotion for me now. I am a bit angry that I can't change it and this entire year has taught me it is real. With every 'first' that has past, it has become more and more real... she is gone. Our first family wedding back was hard for me, our Easter holiday away from the area, our first family vacation, Dominic's birthday, preparing the Christmas tree and making holiday cookies all together, all reinforces that fact that we are one short. And in my mind, in my heart there should be a little girl crawling around, getting under foot and preparing for a first living birthday.
I wonder how the years to come will be and how it will change over time. Will the joy of the holidays ever be there for us, for our family? I wonder when will that day come that I am not thinking of her all the time. Will there ever be a day I don't remember her or think of her? And how will that effect me? Will my heart always feel the emptiness?
How I am different now compared to then, I don't know if I can surmise. I can only say I don't think I will ever by the same, I don't know if I would want to be. All I do know, is these days are hard and don't like them.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Anger and Renewal
I'm sorry if my grief makes you uncomfortable. Imagine how I feel!
Please stop waiting for me to change or get better and consider this just may be who I am now. You may not like it but that is okay. As long as I can manage and live with myself you are not of my consquence. Can you walk in my shoes and live my life? I am not up for apologizing for being, I just am. I am! Maybe not how you knew me or want to know me, but here I stand, slightly a mess, but still proud that I can still stand, unassisted and without fear. I face each day with a hopfulness that today will be better. Imagine my dismay when it is not. And yet each day I wake and start over. I have learned to relish in the small triumphs, let the rest fall where it may, and having faith God will take care of the rest. And yet you can stand in judgement of my tears and evaluate my hurt and my pain because you don't like it. If I could I would trade it all to have my life back to what it was and have my child in my arms, but I can not. Rather than worry about me, count your blessings and search your heart for the reason you think I need something more. Do I, or do you need to feel better? Yes, I struggle I have terrible days and I weap for my loss, but still I live and I am and will continue to be. Maybe not what you want for me, but what I was meant to be and how God has make me.
Please stop waiting for me to change or get better and consider this just may be who I am now. You may not like it but that is okay. As long as I can manage and live with myself you are not of my consquence. Can you walk in my shoes and live my life? I am not up for apologizing for being, I just am. I am! Maybe not how you knew me or want to know me, but here I stand, slightly a mess, but still proud that I can still stand, unassisted and without fear. I face each day with a hopfulness that today will be better. Imagine my dismay when it is not. And yet each day I wake and start over. I have learned to relish in the small triumphs, let the rest fall where it may, and having faith God will take care of the rest. And yet you can stand in judgement of my tears and evaluate my hurt and my pain because you don't like it. If I could I would trade it all to have my life back to what it was and have my child in my arms, but I can not. Rather than worry about me, count your blessings and search your heart for the reason you think I need something more. Do I, or do you need to feel better? Yes, I struggle I have terrible days and I weap for my loss, but still I live and I am and will continue to be. Maybe not what you want for me, but what I was meant to be and how God has make me.
Moving on
One of the things I've had to try to figure out since December 18, 2010, is how do you move on from your life being shattered into a million pieces. 9 months later the answer to that question is more elusive to me than that very first night. That night, I only knew in my soul, my core that it would be okay and I/we would survive.
Now how to survive is much more complicated than I could have ever imagined. Even with faith and love in my heart my sorrow and pain are so predominant that even breathing hurts sometimes. Ever aspects of my life and all I know, have known and have learned and believed to be true has been challenged. Everyday is a struggle to get by and survive. I had always wondered why obituaries read, "Mrs. Jones was survived by..." Now I know. We, the living, are challenged to survive our lose, our grief and our sorrow. Mourning is hard work and a task no one voluntarily takes on. We do not choose the death of our loved ones, we simply are left to accept it. And it is the accepting it that is hard. But, even with it being hard, the accepting is not the challenge. The challenge is living with the change. The change of the knowledge we are mortal, we are susceptible and we have no control. All the cliches are sweet: she is in a better place; she is not there, only her body; she's happy; she's the lucky one; and on and on, are the pathetic things we say to help ourselves feel better when trying to help someone else. When the truth is there is nothing to be said and nothing will make it better.
I want people to know, when you are talking to a bereaved parent, shut up, listen, ask questions and then respond. We do not want to hear your thoughts or opinions. We only want to hear acceptance from you. We want you to accept our lives have changed, that we are difference and that we may never be the same again, and that it is okay. Don't try to fix us, "help" us or make it better. It won't be ever for us and that doesn't make us broken or wrong. It means we evolved and transformed into what and who we don't know. All we know is we must now learn how to be comfortable in this new skin we are forced to live in. We are still your children, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles, sisters and brothers and friends. We just have experienced a trauma we hope you will never know. We may be the same at times, and may be different, at times you may not even recognize us by our actions. But for me all I ask is you love me through the pain, the tears, the laughter and the time left to figure out who I am now and how do I go on.
Now how to survive is much more complicated than I could have ever imagined. Even with faith and love in my heart my sorrow and pain are so predominant that even breathing hurts sometimes. Ever aspects of my life and all I know, have known and have learned and believed to be true has been challenged. Everyday is a struggle to get by and survive. I had always wondered why obituaries read, "Mrs. Jones was survived by..." Now I know. We, the living, are challenged to survive our lose, our grief and our sorrow. Mourning is hard work and a task no one voluntarily takes on. We do not choose the death of our loved ones, we simply are left to accept it. And it is the accepting it that is hard. But, even with it being hard, the accepting is not the challenge. The challenge is living with the change. The change of the knowledge we are mortal, we are susceptible and we have no control. All the cliches are sweet: she is in a better place; she is not there, only her body; she's happy; she's the lucky one; and on and on, are the pathetic things we say to help ourselves feel better when trying to help someone else. When the truth is there is nothing to be said and nothing will make it better.
I want people to know, when you are talking to a bereaved parent, shut up, listen, ask questions and then respond. We do not want to hear your thoughts or opinions. We only want to hear acceptance from you. We want you to accept our lives have changed, that we are difference and that we may never be the same again, and that it is okay. Don't try to fix us, "help" us or make it better. It won't be ever for us and that doesn't make us broken or wrong. It means we evolved and transformed into what and who we don't know. All we know is we must now learn how to be comfortable in this new skin we are forced to live in. We are still your children, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles, sisters and brothers and friends. We just have experienced a trauma we hope you will never know. We may be the same at times, and may be different, at times you may not even recognize us by our actions. But for me all I ask is you love me through the pain, the tears, the laughter and the time left to figure out who I am now and how do I go on.
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