I kind of like dichotomies- I think they are useful in debates. I’m not sure it gets anyone to the truth, certainly oversimplifies things. But it is my current experience. The blog name is perfect for me. Even though I am hurting so much, I do feel very blessed at the same time. I can in the very same moment feel like I am alone in my grief and that I am overwhelmed with joy. I just can. Right now, I feel like my life has been split it two. It is a little like that movie Closing doors? That defining moment where my life could either go this way or that. A two path diverge in the woods sort of thing, except I feel like I am walking both. I get up every morning and do the every day things, I get everyone ready for school, I go to work, I eat lunch. I commute home. Very regular things, just as life was before I was permanently changed. And then there is the life I live post loss. Where if I allow myself to feel it, the constant backdrop to all those tasks is a profound pain and it seems like a different life. I am aware what I wrote makes very little sense. Or maybe it makes tons of sense. I don’t know.
Today, although with a heavy heart, I do feel blessed. I feel blessed for the people in my life. I feel blessed for my two babies here with me. I am thankful that I have a job to support my family. And I do feel blessed, that I am not sick right now and can enjoy the days and moments with my family. (don’t misconstrue, I would vomit for two years straight if I could change the past).
I feel blessed to have found so many people who care. Really care. I don’t feel like the words are hollow, and it really feels good to have people who “get” it. I know the rawness of my words can be uncomfortable. Grief is uncomfortable. Watching someone grieve, is uncomfortable. I know it, and I am grateful to those who have ready my story and have grieved with me. Every word, comment and email I receive feels like a small spark of hope. To have other bloggers post about my story and my blog. It feels unreal. To have so many others, to just be thinking of me and my baby makes me feel joyous. It feels like she will not will not be forgotten. It validates for me that she was here and she is loved. My therapist, let’s call her Ms. KR, says this blog is good for me, I think she’s right.
Today I tortured myself with looking at a book that had the size my baby was when the loss happened. She was little. Really little- the size of the tip of my finger. In the middle of the store I thought I would like to carry around something that small, like a bean, with me and hold it and maybe talk to it. Then I thought, they could probably lock someone up for doing something so strange and crazy.
I think I just want something tangible sometimes. If that makes any sense. It’s probably why I still rub my belly. What I probably need to do is stop torturing myself. Ms. KR, suggests I have to come to a place where I forgive myself. I can tell you, I’m not even close. But I trust in the women who have walked this path and worn these shoes before, generations of them really, and I hope that I can get there. And if it never happens, then I want to at least feel that something positive can come of this, because as Dawn from Dawnbreaks so eloquently describes in her post, I feel like I have a huge debt to pay the world.
I have been reading Ashli’s book, Beyond Morning Sicknes. It’s a wonderful book. Wonderfully written and extremely informative. But it takes me right back to that place, so I have to read it in spurts, and make sure i’m not using it to torment myself. I have an extra copy to give away and there are so many people I want to give it to. Dawn posted a beautiful letter on her blog, that meant so much to me and she gave me a suggestion that before I give away my book that I write a little note in it that says “in memory of Scarlet Juliet.” So if Ashli wouldn’t mind me hijacking her book, I might just do that.
It will remind me that she existed. She was real, she was mine and I miss her! Perhaps sweet beautiful activism can be born of this pain and suffering. I want to save someone else from this pain. I hope she guides me. Since I have written my story, I have cried a little less. I have felt a little stronger. I truly do feel blessed to have made that little bit of progress, but yes it all makes me kind of sad at the very same time.