Grief Weary

I don’t know why this little spot has become so hard for me to write in lately. I sit and stare at this screen, thoughts racing of, “You’ve already said/written that. No one wants to hear it again. Move on. It’s been a year.” I am only able to write one day of the hospital story because the others are still overwhelming to process.

And yet…

One week from today is the day my water broke with the twins. The day my life changed forever, and yet there was still more of that to come.

I saw my therapist this past Friday and as we chatted about how I was doing and our little boy (now 22 weeks!), I struggled with this feeling that seems to underly all my emotions lately.

“I’m so tired of grieving.”

Instantly the guilt poured down on me. I explained (although she knew) that it wasn’t that I was tired of my sons or their story, but I was tired of the rest. The constant struggle to get past these thoughts and memories that still bring a lot of heartache. I wish somehow the grief process could be sped up – and I’ve wished that since I lost them. Like you just wake up one day and can think about what you lost without it smacking you in the face or causing you to have to re-process it all again.

There are days like that. More and more. It’s just soooooo slow and in the meantime there is a part of me that would like for this to be over.

As their year birth/death anniversary comes up, I feel a obligation to “do” something. I don’t really want to. Isn’t that terrible? I just want to skip that day or have it happen but not be sad. Which isn’t possible at this point, and my therapist is quick to assure me that’s normal. First anniversaries of loss are never easy. Everyone does it differently. I know we’ll do something, I’m just not sure of what. Not doing anything that day would haunt me more later than the quick relief trying to skip it would ever bring.

I turn to her over and over still for reassurance that I’m ok, that I’m doing alright with this. So as not to hurt our life, my husband, my daughter, their memories, this little boy. I still have very little idea how to do grief, but I’m getting so much stronger in the knowledge that there are many, many ways. The perfectionist in me wants to do this 100% textbook but obviously grief isn’t like that.

This has been a hard year emotionally. While this pregnancy has made some things easier, it has also made some much harder. I’m getting to a point where I realize again I never felt or got to experience things with them. Baby showers, big kicks, 3D ultrasounds, buying things, planning. We’d just passed the, “I’m in shock it’s two/I’m going to die from being so sick” and then they were gone.

I still ache for them. I still miss what never was. I stumble on something we saved and it crosses my mind, “I’ll put this away for them!” only to remember that they’ll never be here to have it. So I plan for our third little boy to have it instead, as a reminder of how all of them are part of our family, no matter where their souls are.

I am tired of the process of grieving, the energy it takes. Yet I look back and realize just how far I’ve come in nearly a year. I made it. I survived. We’re still a family, they’re not forgotten, and we’ve found hope and joy in a new life on its way. That’s amazing to me. So even though I’d give nearly anything for this emotional process to be over, I take each step forward (and sometimes back) and keep my eyes on the road ahead.

One day there will be no more sadness. No more tears. And we will all be together. Until then, blessed be this broken, and yes – beautiful, journey I’ve been placed on.

 

Comments

  1. sweet Diana, this post rings so close to my heart. I miscarried my fourth child this weekend & I’m already so tired of grieving. I want to move on, I don’t want to answer any more questions, accept any more meals, smile through anymore pitying looks. I just don’t want to be sad anymore. but then I feel guilty. of course I loved my unborn child. I’d do anything to turn back the clock. BUT, at the same time, I just want to feel normal again. I just want to laugh, play with my son, enjoy a cup of coffee, just LIVE without this constant cloud. haven’t quite figured out how to do that yet…..

  2. Prayers to you. I’m sorry you are weary, but I hope it helps to write it out.

  3. ((Hugs)) i am so sorry. it helps to write it out and get it out there. Prayers <3

  4. I read your beautiful blog (posted by a family memember on FB). Grief lasts a very long time sometimes. Have your ever heard of GriefShare? I had a very close loss 6 years ago and attended GreifShare and was helped so much. Now I lead a group with another friend and GriefShare has been such a wonderful help to many. I highly recommend it if you have not gone through GriefShare. Look it up on griefshare.org

  5. I Stumbled Upon your writing in Babble.com (http://www.babble.com/pregnancy/how-i-feel-about-having-a-little-boy/) and was amazed how similar our situations are. I lost my full-term baby boy (second-born) only last June and now I’m pregnant with another boy at 22 weeks (right were he gains the right to be called a human and to be born instead of miscarried). The emotions are just like yours, I don’t know how I’m going to cope with having a living son if all goes right this time. I also have a daughter, five years old, who is heartbreakingly wishing it out loud that this baby will not die. Kids shouldn’t have those worries, though I know that in other less fortunate parts of the world, they still are everyday thoughts. My friend lost her triplets a week ago, two sons and a daughter, at 22 weeks. I’m feeling that loss, too, quite deeply. I think I have an inkling of what you’re experiencing there.

    Best wishes and a lot of hugs.

  6. It’s been 5 yrs since we lost our 30 yr old daughter in law through complications from a mental illness, and she left a toddler behind. We all grieve differently. We had to learn to go through it not over it. I still have times when I need a good cry, but it’s get easier. I think of her EVERY day and the “what ifs” are getting fewer and farther between. I can see the many, many blessings that have come as a result of such deep sadness. God has not forgotten us and He will take care of your family, too.

  7. I remember getting to the point where I had to give myself permission to be happy again. It didn’t mean I didn’t love my baby, or I didn’t wish things were different. It just meant that I needed to move on and live in the new “normal”, and put my attention toward the people who WERE with me and enjoy them. I could imagine that my baby was in heaven, whole and alive and completely happy, and waiting for the time I would arrive. But not grieving during the wait. And I didn’t think the baby would want me to spend the whole wait in agony, either. Our reunion will come when the time is right, and we’ll have eternity together. I had to make the decision to move on and be happy… different, but happy. No, not a year has gone by where the anniversary has gone unnoticed, and not a week has gone by when I’ve forgotten. But it’s been 22 years and three children since then. I can truly say that had our second baby have lived we might possibly not have had any of the other three, since they all came so much later in our lives, after many years of fighting secondary infertility. And certainly none of our children would have been quite so cherished if we hadn’t known the pain of losing one of them. So I can see that while it wasn’t the life I’d have chosen at the time, I would have missed out on this entirely different life had things gone differently. Not that any child can ever possibly replace another one, but… It took me quite awhile, but as I said I do remember the time when I decided to allow myself to be happy again. That time is different for all of us. And Ashley, I am so sorry for your loss, and I know you are too, but if you want to give yourself that permission now, that is COMPLETELY OK! And don’t let anyone tell you differently!

  8. I think you just need to start choosing to be happy instead of living in “what if” land. You went through extreme trauma, you lost something that you will never get back…But you have a beautiful daughter, a loving husband and a baby on the way. I am not a therapist, but maybe it is time to just start focusing on all of the wonderful things in your life.

    Sometimes we grieve because we think that is all we can do to preserve the memories of what we lost…but at a point you need to give yourself permission to remember but move on with your life.

    • Hi Kelly,

      I’m guessing you’ve never lost a child. Or you would have never written this. Thanks for your comment but I’ll choose my own, very healthy, path. I am healing and moving on but it helps to write about the loss still. If that bothers you please feel free not to read my journey.

      • I l

      • Diana,
        I have also suffered a loss late in pregnancy. This comment was not meant to be negative, only to point out all the positive, happy things that are in your life. It is okay to grive a loss but it is also okay to celebrate happiness.

    • I hear that you want to help and dont’ want to see someone suffer. At some point, Diana may be able to remember without it being so painful. That point isn’t now. And that’s why she’s doing the work she’s doing, both the therapy and the writing. Right now, she really just needs to be heard and have people be present with her pain.

      You don’t need to be one of those people if it’s too hard. But let’s all be careful not to should each other.

    • “What if land” sounds like an awfully dismissive way to describe the loss of real, precious, cherished children. This is not the same as “oh, what if I had won Powerball last night… my life would be so different!” This is real, true, aching, rip-your-heart-out-of-your-body grief– the loss of someone real, tangible, and forever a part of you. Yes, we need to focus on blessings and strive to move forward. But children we lose are not something from “what if land”– suggesting that someone just flip a switch and choose to be happy while still coping with something so devastating seems, well, thoughtless to me…

    • This comment honestly hurts my heart. I have never lost a child, but I have losta parent at a young age and the grief doesnt just go away because you choose for it to. Having a wonderful family does not just fix the pain of losing two children. I would never wish ill on another person, but Kelly, keep in mind, everyone grieves differently. Be gentle with others, we never know when WE will be the ones needing support.

  9. Oh, my heart hurts for you. I’ve never lost a child but had a baby shortly before you lost your lil boys. I felt your pain with each blog entry you wrote & it made me hold my lil boy tighter. I’m sure it’s a long healing process but stay strong & love on your lil Bella & soon to be boy! They’ll help you through it. I cannot imagine your pain!!! <3

  10. I am so sorry for your loss. You should take all the time you need to grieve. Everyone grieves differently after death and there is no “just getting over it.” whether it be a child, a miscarriage, a loved one or a friend, a loss can change you. Take your time to do what you need to do. Grief is personal. You are a writer. If you feel it’s important to share, you should share it. People will listen and care, those who don’t shouldn’t be commenting, they should respect you and move on.

  11. You have a right to still be grieving. Even though it has been a year, carrying your third son brings reminders of your other two sons practically every day. How can it not! And as you know, pregnancy is exhausting enough all by itself. Add to it the grief you have and caring for your young daughter, I imagine you must be positively exhausted!

    The rawness of your grief doesn’t really lessen over time, from my experience. But you should find eventually that your grief doesn’t overwhelm you as frequently as it does now. There isn’t a time table for this to happen, it is very individual to each person and their loss.

    Hang in there Diana! Even though a lot of your readers like me, do not personally know you, we are praying for you and so joyous that you are expecting again!

  12. Diana, i recently read about someone who released helium balloons with a message attached to their departed loved one. Just a thought if you are still looking for an idea that even your daughter could get involved in.

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