The silence over here has been deafening, hasn't it? The fact of the matter is I've been avoiding this blog, avoiding this space. After all, I've had my happy ending, right? This should be where the story ends. If this were H.ollywood, then the credits would be running right now. Some cheerful ditty playing interspersed with shots of me smiling and playing with my now complete family; J & K dancing around Eden while she smiles and coos angelically.
But that's not life, not reality. Reality is, as much as I love Eden (and oh god do I love this little girl), as full as she makes my heart, I still miss Owen with same intensity. I'm still grieving. I guess I always will be. Its a strange and guilt-ridden place. How can one person be so lucky and so unlucky at the same time? So blessed and so bereft? I feel guilty even writing this when so many of my deadbaby mommas want to be right where I am. Sometimes I feel like I'm lost in desert with all of you, only now I have a bottle of water. I'm grateful for the water, its life saving, but being lost in the desert still sucks.
10 comments:
I hear you. I feel like I have the bottle of water but haven't been able to open it...yet.
And, yes, still trapped in the desert.
I suppose at some point we'll all just have to learn how to build some shelter cuz it looks like this is going to be more than just a three hour tour...
Glad to hear that Eden is doing well and that she is being loved by her big bro and sis. (And Mom & Dad too:))
xxoo
Good to see you blogging. I have to imagine that these feelings are normal. When I sometimes imagine my future, I can't imagine the part when I am not grieving Hannah, even if I have 5 living children. Owen is always going to be missed and as happy and thankful as you are with Eden, she is no replacement for him. I think it's easy to pretend that we will all find joy again when the next baby is born, but that is too simplistic. After all, if our hearts are big enough to have and love more that one child, why would we think our pain would go away for the baby lost just when the new baby is born? I know that I often think everything will be better if this baby I am carrying is born alive, but the reality is it won't. And I tend to think like that just because the pain gets to be tiring and most of the time I just want it to go away.
Of course you will always grieve your loss. It does make it harder, but you are more than strong enough to get through it.
I'm thinking about this a lot myself. I don't suppose I'll keep blogging forever -- but where does the story end?
The analogy sounds just about perfect, Ashleigh. As much as I want to be where you are, I know (only because I've heard it said time and time again) it cannot be easy.
Remember, this is your blog. Say what you need to say. No judgement here. XO.
so eloquently put. ditto.
I'm not yet where you are - having had a healthy child after having lost such a fragile one - but I have an older daughter who was born first and healthy and still is so vibrantly alive. In a way, she is my bottle of water in the dessert. Even when I am holding her, though, feeling the incredible aliveness of every cell of her being, that sensation can make me miss my little one whom I lost even more. I don't think it's possible to stop longing for what we've lost, because we lost not just what was, but all that could've been and didn't unfold. I also think that being able to exist both in joy and grief at the same time is an incredible skill most of us aren't taught... but how amazing is it if we can do it just a little? Continue to enjoy and relish in your beautiful family, and know that you do not need to feel guilty for doing so, or guilty for still longing for Owen. Love to you.
I don't think the story ever ends - that's the complicated part of this deal we were dealt.
It sure does morph and lives on in varied ways through your Eden, your memory of Owen and how the two come together in this life.
We will always grieve and we will always love, all our children.
I suspect it's never going to get any easier. Just a little less sharp with time.
I have so much to say about that-- living as a parent of a subsequent baby. So many thoughts, so many emotions. Kinda big and hard to get my head around, let alone my fingers. I want to, but somehow I keep pushing a lot of these things into the future... Long way of saying I hear you. And also that I don't think there is anything wrong with expressing the ways grief acts in the face of new parenthood. Nothing at all.
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