Approximately 24 hours out from losing our precious girl, I got myself on the computer and ordered up a stash of grief literature. It's what I do. Need to know something? Find a book. So I did - and I read them cover to cover in the days that followed. But I really didn't read them as though they had any relevance to me: I had a sort of anthropological detachment as I read the stories of other grieving parents. "Oh. Those poor parents. How sad. How horrible. How do they cope?" It wasn't "forgetting" exactly, more a complicated form of denial that I was and am one of those parents now. I read about the grief cycle and how anger can be a BIG part of it. "Not for me", I thought breezily. I'm from a cold, damp region of the world and my constitution is, at best, described as phlegmatic. My idea of a blazing row with D. is to sulk for several hours until he asks what's wrong. I'm just not an angry person really.
Correction - I WASN'T an angry person. It was around Christmas time when I was surprised by the blazing rage that took hold of me - around 2 months out. It really, really scared me. Rage is such an out-of-control emotion and I don't like to be out of control. But, as it persisted over the next few months, I got used to it and I (almost) grew comfortable with feeling so close to boiling point all the time. It felt like an "active" emotion. Feeling angry at my daughter's death made me feel like I was actually parenting her in some way. It felt like expressing my disgust at whoever thought they could take her away from me, at the universe, at randomness, at God, at whatever it was that caused this foul chain of events that ended in my daughter's heart stopping, was productive. Maybe it was. I decided from the outset that whatever I felt was what I needed to feel, even if the emotion was downright ugly. I certainly think it's been healthier for me to feel these emotions than to repress them.
All the same, I was relieved when the anger just naturally dissipated over the summer. Nothing in particular happened to move me along. It was just a gentle summer with lots of fun things happening and it was healing for us all in lots of ways. There were days when I actually didn't mind the version of normal that I have now - it was okay. I learned how to laugh and not feel guilty. I discovered that I could be pregnant and scared but also excited and hopeful.
Since Emma's birthday, the anger is back - but it's mutated. This is cold. It's not passionate or helpful, it's my version of a pity party. I try not to think "Why me?", because really, what's the point? It was me and that's not going to change. But it's the refrain that underlies everything I do at the moment. Some of it is fear - the end of this pregnancy feels close and yet so far. I have started to have very vivid dreams about stillborn babies which I try to shake off but which linger in the shadows through my days.
It's more diffuse now too. I have spent a year in this little corner of the internet now and I have "met" some amazing women (and men). Whenever I read about another stillborn child, another baby born too soon; whenever I read about mothers who are grieving for their precious children and yet also face battles to conceive again or who lose again I feel SO angry. I want to stamp my feet and scream about the unfairness of it. Not just "why me?" but "why us?"
13 comments:
Big hugs Jill.. I know what you mean. i don't remember being in the anger stage for long.. but since his birthday, i think its come back a little too - maybe it's b/c we're in their season again?
I know what you mean. I found anger extremely difficult (as you probably remember). I love you, sweetheart.
I've certainly seen that anger side in myself. It's not pretty. It's not who I used to be. I hope it goes away permanently one day.
I've had some moments of anger but mostly still staggering between numb and anguished. It's awful, isn't it? Such strong emotions. Today is bleak. (((Hugs)))
I'm waiting for the anger. I've had brief moments,but no real anger yet. I'm convinced it'll never come, maybe it will take me by surprise.
I'm still so very surprised by just how many of us there are out there.x
I think anger is not necessarily distructive although it can become so. I think it is a natural stage you go through.
I have at times been very angry with people for stupid things they said or did. Still, a lot of anger is just at the circumstances and that is hard to know what to do with
Take care
Before G died, I was not a very angry person. If I did get angry, it was a fierce, brief anger which flared up and then died down rapidly.
But now I think I feel that cold, cold anger that you describe. xo
I understand, Jill. My anger can still be fierce, if I chose to poke at it. And I read those books the same way as you did - in a pit of denial. Those poor parents, I thought. Couldn't really believe that was me.....
Thank you for letting me know I am not alone. I used to be a sweet and rarely angry person, and now, these phases of grief make me question who I am a lot. Apparently I am going thru the anger phase right now, says the shrink. Big hugs oxxo Nan
You described the conflict involved with that emotion of anger to the T. I wish I never knew that painful anger, but I do. I am so glad it has mutated for you, I think that is healing taking place - on some level. I hope you continue to find some healing and remain hopeful for this pregnancy!
stomping my feet and asking "why us" with you...
I never asked why me. It just wasn't in me to do wonder why. I always just felt 'why not me'. Doesn't mean I wasn't pissed as hell and shaking my fist and holding my special finger up at the universe for raining the shitstorm down into my life because I was but at the same time I felt resigned to the fact that shit happens and this time it happened to me.
sighs.
I know what you mean. First, the grief literature: some of it made sense to me, lots of it didn't. A lot didn't really make sense until I went back and re-read it a year or so later, like reading a movie review after I've seen the flick. I just needed more time to process my own feelings. For me, it was a sense of helplessness that took over more than anger, like everything was out of control. I felt like really tiny and vulnerable.
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