A partition of the whole

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.

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7 Responses to A partition of the whole

  1. I thought about you this morning while I was driving Gabi to school. We were listening to Elizabeth Mitchell’s children’s album You Are My Little Bird, and the song “Winter’s Come and Gone” came on. It made me think of you. Listening to the words made me feel like my heart would break, but the words also filled me with hope and love. Here is a link to the lyrics. Elizabeth’s version is just beautiful.


  2. Found a youtube vid of Gillian singing it. It’s not quite like Elizabeth’s version, but it still gives the same message.

    Much love to you today.

  3. Thank you for having the courage to share a most traumatic and private process. Grief is definitely uncomfortable for ourselves and others. It is especially hard when other people are so uncomfortable about it that they pretend like nothing happened. And they never bring up the subject ever again. Their lives go on, but we are not the same, and no one seems to mind or be interested at all. Their silence makes us feel even more isolated and alone in the HG experience. It is a blessing to connect this way, many women who have never met in person, all sharing a similar, yet unusual experience. Imagine if there was no one to connect with about it? No one who truly understood and had walked the same path? It would be a much slower healing process, no doubt. But the truth is, we do not suffer alone. And gratefully, many women can share together.

  4. dallison says:

    “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.”

    Beautifully said. It speaks a great deal of your strength (which is evident even in the depths of your sorrow).

    I believe you’ll come to a place when you use the rearview for perspective rather than torture.

    When I read about the blessings that surround you everyday, I smile. This will be your biggest source of healing.

  5. Building Strong Beginnings says:

    I wanted to thank you so much. I am a childbirth educator and this is the first I have heard of this condition. I am sending the link to this and all the other blogs you have referenced to my students, midwives, facebook friends, mommy groups and other circles. This is information that everyone should have. Women should not have to suffer through this without being validated, supported, and recieving the best care possible under the circumstances. My prayers are now going out daily for every woman who is feeling the physical and emotional pain that they are living in every day due to HG.

  6. Ashli says:

    Your reaction is all very normal to me. I went through most of what you describe here. Your child will never become unimportant, but things will get easier with time. I wrote you yesterday and will send it today.

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