Well, sometimes it doesn't feel like it, but it does get better as time goes on. Sometimes you feel like life is marching right along without you. You're not alone. But one day, you realize that life wasn't leaving you behind. You just took a detour. Everyone's detour takes a different amount of time, energy, fake smiles and tears (or lack thereof). Slowly, it all comes together again and you feel less left out and alienated by life. You find joy that you weren't sure existed anymore. Now, you are always going to miss your baby but just like your other relationships, the relationship with your child and their memory evolves and becomes a little less raw. For me there were panic attacks and I would feel like I couldn't breathe. There are lots less of those now... I mean yes, I still have an occasional panic attack or breakdown but it no longer feels like my entire life is run by them. I would not call the grief journey a beautiful journey in any sense of the word but there are beautiful things that accompany that grief. When you feel like it's darker than it's ever been, look around. There is something beautiful to find there... acceptance, a new lesson, something that you'd never taken the time to really look at... sometimes the beautiful things will catch you completely off guard and shock you. But, they're there. Just remember that this journey is one that is lonely at times, scary and painful but take time for yourself and to sort out some of what you're feeling or you will never be able to move past each hurdle. Don't forget that it's okay to ask for help and it's okay to cry and scream and be "dramatic" (as I've been told before). Sometimes you just have to get away from everyone and go somewhere that means something to you or just lock yourself in your bedroom and let it all out. This is healthy (contrary to popular belief) and you do not always have to be so strong! <3 Have a safe and peaceful holiday weekend everyone
This summer has been so busy! We've had a wedding, work, tons of time with our munchkin and plenty of things to do. I've been a slacker when it comes to writing but now that things have slowed down some, I need to write again. We are nearing an anniversary date that I always dread... Thursday (August 15th) was Connor's due date. Two years ago, we should have been welcoming our baby boy into the world. Unfortunately, he and God had different plans and he was born 3 months early. I know some people think it's silly, but these dates are still hard for me. No, he wasn't actually born that day but to me, that day was the one aspect of a normal pregnancy that I had to hold on to. It was the one last thing I had to hope for Connor to make it to. I prayed he would make it to 40 weeks (at least 30) so that his lungs were more developed and he was more ready to make his debut. Looking back, I know it wouldn't have mattered if he was born later... his lungs never would have been functional. Stupid CMV. I still find myself wanting to scream at all the doctors who never even worried about my sick spell so early in the pregnancy.
Back on topic... what really brought me to write tonight was something I experienced a few nights ago. I was in the bath thinking about all the random things you think of: dinner, work, things you need to do when you get out, etc. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I was completely over taken by a memory. A memory that I had no idea had resided in my mind this long. Before I go on, I have to explain how upset I was a few months ago because I couldn't remember a lot from the first and last time I held my son. Everyone kept telling me that my body was just preserving itself but I just felt like a horrible mother. I honestly couldn't make a memory of my son's face come up that wasn't from a picture I have of him. I was devastated about it. Anyway, this memory... it broke me. I was suddenly sucked into those moments when the only people in the room was my husband, myself and my tiny son in my arms. I was looking down at his face and I could see everything... things that I didn't know I had stored in my memory somewhere. I could see every wrinkle, his spots and bruises, his tiny fingernails.... everything. And I remember thinking "Look how perfect he is." I felt nothing but love for my son in that moment... and then I remembered that my son was gone and it was such a mix of pure love/happiness with the bitter sorrow of losing my son. And that's when the memory stopped and all I could do was burst into tears. It was such a mix of emotions. I was happy I could remember that but the pain was still so fresh. Memories are a funny thing.... they come right when you need them sometimes, right when you don't others and sometimes literally knock