she was crying, i was not.
what is wrong with me that i can discuss my daughter's death and not cry??? but then, some random thing sets me off? This poor woman must have thought i am batty or made of stone.
I miss my baby girl so much, every day....i just don't want to share her with everyone i meet anymore..like her story is just too tragic. there are not any happy times, or wonderful memories. She died before i met her. Someone i loved and trusted completely failed me and failed at the job i entrusted her. I couldn't even hold my daughter for days. i never saw what she looked like before death changed her.
11 comments:
I'm 7 years out from losing my daughter a few days after her birth, and I just want to let you know it all sounds really normal to me.
It's not that you're "healed" (meaning it doesn't matter) or that you've forgotten or anything like that, I don't think. It just means that it's not always uncontrollable.
I sometimes don't talk about my first child, and sometimes I do. It gets awkward - "how many kids do you have?" "Is this your oldest?" and so on. Having to explain every time would be exhausting, and it's also tiring to have to deal with people's strange reactions to death.
And then sometimes I still do just feel it as rawly as the first time and I do cry.
Anyways just it's totally okay.
Sometimes I think it's just so horrible that the only way to talk about is to be matter-of-fact about it. I know I must sound very cold sometimes when I talk about Emma but it's because allowing even a hint of emotion to escape might cause me to crumble - and I prefer to do that in private.
You are right, Aquila's story is too tragic.
Sorry Liz. It sounds perfectly normal to me. You're coping because you have to and because you choose to (especially for your children). Sometimes coping means allowing yourself to be numb to the pain for a while as a means of self preservation.
I think it's normal too, I do it. Sometimes I'm cold like stone, but as Jill says above it's because allowing just one tiny bit of emotion to escape would mean a cascade of grief following.
x
Liz, it doesn't mean that you don't love Aquila. You have been so strong in sharing her story with so many, and it's not surprising that sometimes you can't express the emotions that you feel because it's exhausting. Peace and strength to you!
I'm sorry. After my dad died, I went through a period of anger at people who had parents older than he was, at age 62. I mean, my grandma lived to 86, and nobody loved her half as much as I loved my dad. I felt robbed. But then, my best friend said, "at least he didn't die when you were a baby so that you'd never know him." That statement actually helped me. I'm so sorry that you were robbed of your relationship with Aquila. I am sure that affects your grieving process accordingly.
I just found your blog and wanted to express my sadness for the loss of your baby daughter. I am so, so sorry that this happened to you and your family. Thank you for sharing, for desiring that women be informed.
I am in San Antonio, previously worked as a doula here, until having 3 children, and noticed that you are in the Austin area.
Reading some of your posts has really gotten me thinking.
Peace to you and your family.
Again, I am so sorry.
(((((hugs)))))
Sounds normal to me. I think being open to when you feel the Father leading you to share... Then feeling okay, not to have to share with every single person is freeing.
Sometimes I am sure others just need to be listened to, and I know that because of Aquila, you can listen with a full heart... I am sure that is a huge blessing, just that.
~Rebecca, Mom to 10, in Alberta
I think time is a gift from God. Life would be unbearable if grief were always as fresh. To every thing there is a season.......praise God for this season. You have helped countless women, myself included, deal with loss all the while praising God. I respect and admire you for that alone.
Nothing is wrong with you. You are, in fact, a normal human being.
The wound is not so fresh anymore. It's still there and it hurts. But you know the world is still turning and you are walking forwards instead of staying perpetually in falling-apart-grief mode.
Going through my third miscarriage. It still sucks. It still hurts my heart. But I have strength this time that I didn't have when the first one happened. With time and thought and effort and practice, I'm not a constant mess. I think that's OK.
(((((Liz))))
Mary's birthday is in a little over a month. Sometimes I am on the verge of falling apart while at other times, I can talk about her and the circumstances very matter of factly. I think, after time, we get to where it isn't so fresh and isn't like pouring salt in our wounds. I also think we know how to disassociate ourselves from the event and it's like remembering a movie. It's very weird. I do think that due to all the activism, we're use to always talking and sharing. Who knows, maybe talking about it so much has helped facilitate some type of acceptance. I would say perhaps healing, but I know we will never heal. ((Hugs)) and love Sweetie!!
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