I feel a little lost lately. It’s hard to explain, but having Charlotte come home opened up a new chapter in our lives that I am still weaving into the last four years.
My life has been about loss for that long. I’ve blogged a little over six years and four of those this May 3rd will be about grief and death. As much as I want to tell you that I don’t care if people say, “But you have Charlotte now,” or “if that hadn’t happened she wouldn’t be here” – those things do bug me. They’re irrelevant – Charlotte isn’t a one size fits all baby. And I did have them all. My children weren’t figments of my imagination and Charlotte was the only real one. They were here, they lived, they had names and faces and birth certificates. So telling me she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them – for them dying? I can’t get on board with that.
I’m trying to redefine myself. Not just on here, but in my life. I get to do all the mama of littles things I so desperately wanted to do since 2012, and yet my boys are still gone. Talking about that feels like I’m not thankful for Charlotte and that so isn’t the case at all.
It’s an odd road to walk. Nearly every time I post something about my sons now, I get those little digs of, “But think of what you do have” and it makes me stop writing for a while because I feel –
There are moments in life where things happen to you that aren’t as drastic and outwardly visible as having a child die, but still cause a giant impact. After the twins died, a lot of things happened that no one really knew much about. My whole life changed again and again in the following months. Relationships that had been unhealthy to begin with ended. Others grew stronger. I found out who could stand by me even when they didn’t get my pain or my need to repeat the trauma story again, and who wasn’t interested in sticking around. It was like a dozen mini losses.
It happened again with Kaden. I was so numb to any other kind of pain that it was very, very easy for me to look around and think, “No, I really don’t want anything to do with you/that anymore” and be done with it. Forever.
Charlotte coming home seemed to mean that every stress and exhaustion and non-stop barrage of mess the past 4 years suddenly hit me at one time and I just ground to a halt in life. I don’t write for any sites. I have trouble meeting deadlines. I barely write on here, and have spent hours trying to. My motivation to do anything beyond motherhood and the occasional stuff on social media is pretty low, and any urge I get doesn’t last long.
I’ve had to come to terms with that now, because after the twins and Kaden passed away I threw myself into writing and social media to ease a little of the pain. Anything to distract me for a while, to give me a purpose and a reason beyond Sam and Bella. To try to find what it was I was supposed to do with my disaster of a life.
I didn’t know that I might be just as lost when some of the chapters closed.
I love being at home. Just being a mama, keeping up the house, getting ready to move, cooking and cleaning and laundry. I love being with my girls and going places as a family. For now – it’s ok to just do that and I feel content in that area.
Yet I always have this little question that hovers over me about what’s happened. What am I going to do with it? I write on my book and it’s so much pain and trauma that it takes me a long time to write and then recover from reliving things I’ve never even told on here.
My hope now is that I won’t be forgotten in the loss circles I became a part of. That when someone says, “My friend lost a baby and I don’t know what to do” my name would still come up. It may sound selfish to say that, but a huge part of my healing was helping. I found a great deal of comfort in someone writing me with their story.
I know there is more to give and do with my story – I know there is. I feel it, I can feel that pull. Right now I want to spend this time healing and recovering and soaking in the moments I wanted so desperately – so that I can be a more whole person again. I am working towards meshing more of loss and life together again.