In an effort to not surrender completely to my sadness sometimes I find an escape for a few hours. Organizing my collection of beads, counting stitches while crocheting, or mindlessly watching Netflix movies. Sometimes I get the energy up to leave the house and go for lunch with friends or a shopping trip but when these things have run their course and the distraction is over it is like crashing into a brick wall. Usually this happens in the evening, at the end of the day when I have finally become exhausted from the effort it takes to distract myself. I use up all of my energy on just making it through the day and then I just have nothing left.
Most of you who know me know that I have always wanted lots of children. I made Marc agree to at least three when we got married. During one of the most painful parts of my labor I just remember thinking how much I loved my little boy who was almost here and how if I never had a chance to raise another child I would be fulfilled to just raise him. It hurts to think about how completely happy and fulfilled we were before this and now to look at how far away that feeling is. Sometimes it seems like that feeling is forever out of reach.
Marc is amazing! I don't know how I ended up with such a wonderful man as my husband. I still have no appetite and Marc has to remind me to eat. He actually called me from work around 4pm to make sure I had eaten because he knew that I would forget...and I had. If it were not for him I am pretty sure that some new kind of alien species would have started growing in our refrigerator since I have not attempted to clean the kitchen...or anything around the house for that matter. He is always there to wipe my tears, he takes me in his arms and reassures me that we have to hang on to our hope because we will be happy again. He is constantly telling me how much he loves me, how strong I am and how proud he is to be my husband.
A few nights ago on another rough night, he reminded me of a very important portion of our wedding vows.
"I will share your pain, that it be divided." He told me that I do not have to carry this alone, that he will always carry a portion of it for me.
So for him I go ahead and force myself to get out of bed each morning.
I will try to smile for him at least once a day because our vows also say "I will share your joy, that it be multiplied."
For him, I will try to hold that hope that we will have more joy to share in the future.
I found this poem:
It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry"
and "men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test,
And field the calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's all right
And what she's going through.
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But "stays strong" for her sake.
It must be very difficult
To start each day anew.
And try to be so very brave-
He lost his baby too.
--Eileen Knight Hagemeister
I always feel better after writing so I will try to end on a more positive note. I found a father's blog about the loss of his daughter who was stillborn. Here is an excerpt from his blog that I really liked.
"For me, the question really comes down to, what is healing vs. accepting the new reality? Acceptance, in my book, does not necessarily mean healing, but rather coming to a point where a bereaved person realizes that no amount of sadness, anger, or hopelessness is going to make things different and the process of grieving allows them to start moving forward again.
In other words, it is not TIME itself that helps, but rather what you DO WITH THE TIME. If you curl up in a ball, pull the shades, and let your sadness take over, no days, weeks, or months off the calendar are going help make you feel better. But if you use that grieving time to reflect and express your sadness and anger in a healthy way so the pressure does not become unbearable, life can become worth living again.
Believe me, it is not that I don't understand that sometimes the sadness is so overwhelming it seems completely impossible to ever think of being happy again. But, I also don't believe that we are dishonoring our children and the love we feel for them by allowing ourselves to smile, be happy, and feel hope."
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