So Exact

I felt the need to post this from a friend's page that lost her daughter, it is so exact to my feelings....
 Maybe this will help some people understand what we go through as loss mommas. 
From SmallBirdStudios.com - 


You don’t know what to expect.
People surround you. For a couple of weeks. Making sure you are not going to kill yourself, refuse to get out of bed, or start rocking a baby doll like the crazy lady they heard about from a friend.
You get lots of sympathy cards, clearly written and designed to be sent to console a daughter losing her father. Not the other way around.
You get free baby formula in the mail. For months and months and months.
And free baby magazines. And free baby coupons.
You secretly envy every pregnant woman. But not without a tinge of guilt, because you know all too well that she might be one in four- expecting her rainbow child.
It seems like the whole world is expecting a baby.
You have baby stuff around your home. Because you never imagined you wouldn’t need it.
You feel jarred. In the grocery store. At a birthday party. At the dinner table. At Christmas. Driving.
The baby you never knew, but lost changes every part of your life. Every. single. part.
Forever.
You see baby clothes and it brings tears to your eyes.
You get sick and tired of crying. You never knew it was possible to cry this much.
You find yourself angry at God. Angry at yourself. Just angry.
You swear you can feel them kick but they’re gone. They call them phantom kicks. I call them painful, all kinds of painful. But sweet too.
You know, or you have a strong feeling of knowing what your child would have looked like, and been like. You see a child in the store, or on the street. Their hair color, dimples, smile, their personality and suddenly you are reminded of your child. You miss your child even more, if that’s even possible.
Your Babies R’ Us Registry is still active. There is no delete button on their site. The babies r’ us people don’t make a dime on people like us. Why bother right? You have to call them, plead with them to remove your freaking’ registry, because there will be no baby shower. There is an awkward silence. There is sadness. There will be no baby.
You get hospital bills about 3-4 months after you buried your child. You have to pay for the baby you delivered but didn’t bring home.
You find that moment of happiness in life for the first time, but the guilt swallows it up almost immediately.
You remember the size of the casket. The size of the plot. The face of the funeral director. The expression of those that attended the funeral. The feeling of raw pain, like your chest has literally been ripped open.
Somehow you convince yourself that you deserve happiness. Because you really do. But in the happiest, purest moment, there is still that hole that only they were meant to fill.
People compare your pain to their own pain. The loss of their grandmother, husband, their failed marriage, rebellious teenagers. Somehow this comparing leaves you stranded. If they can compare their pain of a situation to the loss of your BABY, they will likely never get it. Babies are not supposed to die. End of story.
You lost a dream. And it almost feels like you imagined their entire existence up. Their name becomes a distant memory on the lips of others.
There is awkwardness when you talk about your child in a crowd. No one knows whether to cry, walk away or pretend you never brought him or her up.
You lose friends. You find new ones.
You can’t believe that women have actually survived this and you never knew about it. Not really, anyway.
You would do anything for another minute with your child.
You cry when others bring up your child, not so much because it hurts but more so because it such a precious and rare gift.
You long for the rewind button, even after many many instances of acceptance.
You want to know what went wrong, and why…
You find a new appreciation for moments in life that make you laugh… you laugh harder and love stronger.
You know that you can die bitter, or die thankful. There is no in between.
You never ever, EVER get over your child. The one you hoped for, prayed for, carried and loved for the weeks and months they were with you.
You learn to live with the pain.
You are better for having known them at all..

Stupid Comments

   I don't want to offend anyone but I have seriously heard some of the most absurd comment since my son died.  I just wanted to share them and my feelings on each so here goes....
1. You are young, you can always have another child-
     I can’t just ALWAYS have another child.  How do you know that I can?  That’s interesting that you know that because I DON’T even know if that’s true for me? I’ll tell you what YOU shouldn’t assume, just because someone is young doesn’t mean that they can just pop out children like I am some sort of baby oven?!  Even if I could have another child, its never a safe bet, there is always risk and people seem to forget that.  They just assume that the pregnancy will be fine and everything will go smooth.  Guess what?  That’s not always the case unfortunately; I’m just being real and choosing not to be in denial about it.  That would never make it better nor does it ever take away the pain from what happened……AND I’m not sure if I really can have another child.  My body is having issues and maybe permanently damaged from the pregnancy, so think about that before you throw out assumptions to avoid awkwardness PLEASE?!

2. At least you didn’t have him for that long to bond with-
     Like that should seriously make it easier?  I know everything happens for a reason…yah yah yah but I am still entitled to have a bond with him and feelings about it.  I was thankful at the time that he didn’t suffer any longer but would give anything to have had more time with him.  I miss him and want him here, he is still my baby, my child.  What people that haven’t lost a child don’t understand is that it’s not something you ever get over.  It never goes away.  You are never the same person you were before it happened, you are forever changed. You look at life differently.  It may get easier with time.  But honestly, it never completely heals.  So now, I have to learn to deal with the wound and choose the path I would like to take with it and hopefully help others in the future that unfortunately had to experience this terrible pain.

3.  It could be worse, you should be thankful for what you have-
    Here’s my thoughts on that, I really do “get” that comment.  I do.  I might even tell myself that when I am privately sorting through my feelings.  However, I am not really sure what could be worse than watching your fresh, innocent, child die in your arms and there is not one thing you can do about it.  It is the most helpless feeling I have ever experienced.  Parents are supposed to fix things for their children and help them when they are in pain.  Children aren’t supposed to die.  Watching his health struggle and slowly taking breathes until there were no more to take.  Sitting in a silence of tears, not knowing what direction your life is supposed to go in and not sure of your purpose now.  The look on his poor sweet, precious, tiny face looking at me for comfort, while HE dies. I would have rather been stabbed with a knife myself, and really it physically felt like that.  My heart was ripped out of my body.  Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change being there for the world.  I am thankful that I was there for him when he was born, and then again when he died. But let me tell you people, until you experience your child dying, please refrain from those words it just adds fuel to the fire that was already ignited. 

4. You can’t let this destroy you-
    Here’s my response to that statement: I understand that you don’t want to see me hurting.  I don’t want to hurt and I feel like I am taking the proper steps to help myself get through this terrible time.  Grief is painful and it can destroy some people.  I feel that if I grieve the “healthy” way and  once I am in the further stages of grief I won’t, but it might be uncomfortable for you to witness.  But being a freshly bereaved mom, it IS going to destroy me some days.  Not every day, some days I can suck it up smile and enjoy the here and now.  But other days, I need the allowance for a wreck.

5. You should be starting to feel better by now- 
   Really?  Are you the “feel better” police and have some sort of timeline I should be on because if you do, can you please put me at the end of it?   I would appreciate that, thank you!  Seriously, I would love to had skipped this whole grieving process, trust me on that.  I even asked multiple counselors and doctors if I could.  The problem is, here’s your choice=start grieving it now, or start later.  If you don’t grieve it now, it will happen later and possibly come out in other ways sickness, health problems, cancer, etc (that has been proven).  I am choosing to feel it intensely now rather than later in hopes that I can avoid all that.  Not everyone does that and it's ok, everyone is different.  I realized that there is no magical way around it, if there was, I would have thought of it already and so would all of the authors that wrote the grief books.


     Conclusion-

I get it that people feel uncomfortable, mean well, and just don’t know what to say.  That uncomfortable feeling is mutual.  I am uncomfortable with my son dying.  It is definitely out of my comfort zone for sure as it is with anyone that goes through this.  The best thing to say is basic, “I’m sorry”.  I almost want to give people a “thank you for saying the right thing gift” and activate a loud thank you buzzer that releases confetti to let them know that was the perfect thing to say! Maybe I will invent one for grievers and become rich…………

Today

Today, it has been 3 months and 19 days since I watched my little guy take his last breath.  Many people recommended journaling to help me with the healing process but I could not get myself to do it or ANYTHING thoroughly for the first couple months.  I was so confused, this was supposed to be the happiest time of my life and it turned out so NOT.  It took everything I had to wake up, push myself out of bed to get a shower, brush my teeth, try to put on a decent face for everyone else as best I could and let me tell you sometimes I didn't do a very good job.  It was difficult for me to accomplish anything being in such a new physical pain which I hadn't been prepared for (not that you can EVER prepare for losing a child).  My heart was officially ripped out of my body.  I had horrible "Achy Arms" with no clue what that was until I read the book "Empty Arms" and had also heard from other moms that they experienced it too.  It is an intense aching, heavy, painful feeling in your arms where they could just naturally drag on the ground.  It lasted for weeks.  I missed my son so bad I just wanted to hold him one more time! I had a C-Section so I was really sore, and as if that wasn't bad enough then my milk came in full force, a whole other emotional trauma.  It was completely insane how sad I felt having to deal with getting that whole process to stop not realizing how LONG it would last, maybe it lasted longer for me because I started pumping right after Logan was born?  I don't know, he was my first baby so I don't have a clue.

I was so mad at myself for having such a hard time. I have to get through this, there are other people that need me!  My husband and I talked so much while in the hospital and we felt like we could handle this, not that we wanted to, nor would it be easy, but looking back I think that maybe we thought we could and wanted to skip the grieving process.  We now know, it is impossible to do that.

So, here I am.  I hope this helps.....