It has been obvious that I've been more than a little absent from this space in the last few weeks. Life has been busy, but I can not honestly say that this has been the only reason. I think it has mostly been because I knew that coming to this space and putting my thoughts in black and white in front of me was going to be painful and I haven't felt strong enough to handle that recently. I have thought about it a few times and felt a little guilty for not writing when I knew that I needed to, but lately the bad days seem to be winning.
When that happens, my first instinct is to run. I avoid this blog and I avoid the majority of the babyloss community where I am usually able to take comfort and, in turn, offer it to others. I have noticed that I have a tendency to withdraw from that facet of my life and focus my energy again on just making it through each day. It is simply too painful to invite myself to open up wounds that are still healing, so I tend to try to ignore them.
There are a few problems with this approach. First, if you choose to ignore an injury rather than tending it and allowing the opportunity for it to heal, it is just going to get worse. Second, this approach runs right alongside the fast track to depression. And lastly, it leaves you feeling alone and isolated. And even though I don't mind the solitude sometimes, I'm afraid of staying in the spot where that is my preference.
It is a normal, human reaction to want to avoid that which is too painful to want to face head-on. Unfortunately, it is really only a temporary solution. Eventually, we are going to have to come back to coping with whatever it is that we have been hiding from. At that point, odds are that you are going to find yourself with some messes to fix, some wrongs to correct and things to set upright again.
With all of that said, I think this is another one of those perfectly normal steps along the path of walking through one's grief. There are times when you get to feel empowered and strong and in charge. There are other times when you get to focus on the hard work of grieving and coping. And there are those times when it is all just too much and you have to hide. As long as you continue to cycle through without getting stuck in one place too long, particularly that last one, you're probably doing it right. We can't hide forever and we certainly can not be expected to shoulder all of this grief all day, every day.
I can't and I won't apologize for taking the time that I need for myself. Neither should you.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Monday, June 3, 2013
Don't Rush Us
Right now, I am angry - frustrated, appalled, upset and angry.
A close friend of mine, whose son was born with a fatal birth defect the same month as Aaron, was told today that she needed to "move on with her life," "grow up," and "get over it." What's worse, is that it was someone close to her who should have been offering kindness, support and love instead of harsh words and judgement.
So let me be very clear when I say these next few things
- When you have lost a child, you will never completely "move on." You may keep moving, but "moving on" is not in the vocabulary.
- When you have been through the experience of carrying, meeting and loving your child who is going to die, you have "grown up" more in those 9-10 months than some people will do in 9-10 years. You lose a part of yourself; you lose the sense of innocence that you used to have about pregnancy and babies and life; you lose the confidence that everything will turn out for the best.
- When your child dies, you will NEVER EVER "get over it." You learn to live with the pain. You figure out what it takes to make it to the end of each day. You realize that there are things in life that are still worth living for. But you will never "get over" the fact that you had to bury your child. Ever.
So please, if you have ever asked "What can I do to help?"...this is what you can do: Don't say these things to a person who is grieving, particularly if they are grieving the loss of a child. These statements are not helpful. They rip out that grieving parent's heart and serve only to make them feel more isolated and alone, because you have shown them that you aren't even trying.
It's been almost four months since she and I lost our sons. Four months. We have a lifetime to carry the fact that one of our babies died...don't rush us.
A close friend of mine, whose son was born with a fatal birth defect the same month as Aaron, was told today that she needed to "move on with her life," "grow up," and "get over it." What's worse, is that it was someone close to her who should have been offering kindness, support and love instead of harsh words and judgement.
So let me be very clear when I say these next few things
- When you have lost a child, you will never completely "move on." You may keep moving, but "moving on" is not in the vocabulary.
- When you have been through the experience of carrying, meeting and loving your child who is going to die, you have "grown up" more in those 9-10 months than some people will do in 9-10 years. You lose a part of yourself; you lose the sense of innocence that you used to have about pregnancy and babies and life; you lose the confidence that everything will turn out for the best.
- When your child dies, you will NEVER EVER "get over it." You learn to live with the pain. You figure out what it takes to make it to the end of each day. You realize that there are things in life that are still worth living for. But you will never "get over" the fact that you had to bury your child. Ever.
So please, if you have ever asked "What can I do to help?"...this is what you can do: Don't say these things to a person who is grieving, particularly if they are grieving the loss of a child. These statements are not helpful. They rip out that grieving parent's heart and serve only to make them feel more isolated and alone, because you have shown them that you aren't even trying.
It's been almost four months since she and I lost our sons. Four months. We have a lifetime to carry the fact that one of our babies died...don't rush us.
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