I was expecting to feel the grief more this week. We all know there's no free pass out of babyloss - the good days have to be paid for. So, I've been relieved that after the wonderful high of our anniversary, what has followed has been wistful sadness and listlessness. Although it doesn't seem much, I was expecting to be plunged back into the very depths of the rawness again. That's how the "good day, bad day" pattern has gone in the past.
This week though I've felt the lack of my Emma all over again but in a subtle way. In the earliest days I felt physically fractured by her death but these last few days it's been a weariness right down to the bone marrow. Daylight saving has brought lighter nights, spring is bringing buds and blossoms. Out in the garden yesterday, I realised that, to an untrained eye, we probably looked pretty good - I was mowing the lawn whilst B. & L. alternatively "helped" or threw grass cuttings at each other whilst we waited for daddy to get back from work. Nobody else would have been able to see the hole. The lighter, brighter days mean too that the sweet little babes born last Autumn are no longer amorphous blobs swaddled in pink. Suddenly they have personalities, they're holding their heads up, dressed oh so beautifully, charming the world around them. I find it even harder to reconcile myself to these perfect little people than I did to the anonymous bundles of blankets in strollers. I want to smile at them and stroke their soft cheeks but I also don't, because they're not Emma.
Daylight saving has also resulted in very tired children who don't fall asleep easily. Their tiredness seems to be exacerbating their longing for their sister too. Our nighttime lullaby (a somewhat tuneless number composed by me during 4am breastfeeds with our firstborn) includes the line "mummy loves you very much, daddy loves you very much, *insert sibling* loves you very much, *insert cuddly toy* loves you too" (I did warn you it was composed at 4 am). At B.'s behest, the cuddly toy has been relegated to the second line of the song and Emma is now included. I love that he asked for this but amsad that this is how it is.
3 comments:
Jill, I feel the same way.. about the babies. I feel like my arms and love are reserved for the baby floating around in my uterus.. I HAVE to keep these empty arms waiting for MY baby. I have no desire to hold any other babes.. esp. not ones close to Dresden's age.
Gwen also likes to name her stuffed animals baby Dresden.. it warms my heart to hear her say that.. but also brings a hint of sadness to the party.. she should be enjoying (and NOT enjoying) all that her sibling has to offer.. but she can't.. she was robbed too.
I'm glad the grief is staying a little easier lately. You deserve to have happy days, and I know that our sweet babies don't want us to be a mopey mess all the time! ;)
Jill, that second sentence is a gem. YES. We earn every good day...I have been so sad as I enter my baby's second year (april 6th) that she is not screaming "Mine" about her little sister. Even though I had fantasies that they would be fine and best friends immediately, I also anticipated the fights...I hate that mine is about distinctly Mommy things. abrazos y besos, Angie
I'm in a similar good day, bad day pattern right now. I'm trying to be easy on myself and not expect too much, but it's so difficult. Sometimes I feel guilty having good days.
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