I wondered, when I wrote the post entitled "Acceptance?", whether I was just setting myself up for a fall, hence the question mark. The question mark was supposed to show I wasn't taking it for granted at all, that I wasn't trying to push my luck.
I don't think I ever "did" denial - I sort of skipped over that little bit of the grief cycle. Emma's death was unexpected - I laboured, I birthed her, we rejoiced and then we were handed our dead baby. I don't suppose labouring, knowing is any easier. I doubt it. But, even in the absence of any time to process what this was going to mean for us, we held her and I think we both realised that denial wasn't an option. We both felt that we needed to face the grief, the hardship, the horror face on. I was definitely numb for the first couple of months but I never sunk into any sort of denial. I have told people that I have four children - and omitted to mention that one is dead but I don't omit that information because I can't face it or because I forget or because I try to fool myself. Usually I omit that information for the benefit of the other person or simply for privacy for me.
And yet, since Toby, I have struggled to hold onto her. Immediately after his birth, I lived in the land of gratitude and joy. I had a baby WHO LIVED. I cried a lot more often for Emma, I felt so close to her all over again because I could see her in him. And then, I hit a bit of a slump. Tiredness, hormones resetting ... who knows. But recently, I've found myself resenting the fact that I'm a mother whose child died. I'm tired of grieving and I just want to pretend that I'm not. I've never needed to visit Emma's grave with regularity but it's close and it's a very beautiful and peaceful place. I've never found it hard to go and just be still there - until now. Recently, I've felt like I ought to go and I've been unable to. Something in me has resisted. And I feel so guilty - as though Emma is drifting away from me - and I'm pushing her away. I still love her so much but I haven't quite worked out how to parent my living children the way I want to, how to be the sort of mother I want to be and not deny my precious, precious third child in the process.
7 comments:
I'm totally with you on the grave thing. I always feel like a dud babyloss mama as I hardly ever go, despite the fact it is just up the road, is a beautiful spot and I am generally ok when I am there. Maybe that is denial for me. I too am resenting this. I hate it. I feel shame about it.
I just miss her.
And I miss Emma with you.
xo
Oh boy... I feel that I could've written much of this post myself.. In my last blog entry, I wrote about how I was having a hard time visiting Freja too since the birth of her brother. Well I finally went yesterday, and have to admit that I was absolutely fearful of the emotions that seeing her grave might evoke, but once I got there, surprisingly, I felt alot more peaceful (well, as peaceful as one can feel with their child in the ground.) But I felt good knowing that I was there, cleaning up the long grass around her grave, mothering her in whatever way I can. And I feel slightly lighter today knowing that I crossed a hurdle and once again, survived. It makes me wonder why I was able to loyally visit her grave only months after her death, but have such a hard time now. This journey is ever changing. Just as one thing might get easier, something else becomes difficult. Wishing you peace, mama. (((hugs)))
I read a very beautiful idea the other week, of a grove where lost babies play until it is time for their parents to collect them. Not really a religious idea, not heaven, just a place where they are together until we don't have to be without them anymore.
Maybe she isn't slipping away from you. maybe she's dancing away. Maybe when she comes back, you'll find she has a settled place in your heart.
"I've found myself resenting the fact that I'm a mother whose child died."
This line just stopped me in my tracks. What a profound statement that sums up so much of what I'm feeling these days....and I never even realized it.
big hugs
As I play tug of war with emotions of "should we try again" "Should we never try again" One of the thoughts that comes to mind is "WHY would we try again..." I know I can't have them back...Simon and Alexander...the babies I long for. I know I LOOOOOOVE all my babies. But as a mother of five living sons...is it SANE to try again, to try to heal? To bring another beautiful child...if I'm lucky...into the world....alive...would it help my heart to heal? or would my love for my new child be vibrant and whole and the longing...or distance...for Simon and Alexander deepen. You post makes me think...that I need to remember that even if I say YES to the hope of another baby, that it won't take away pain, and may even create new kinds of pain. That being said, I'd rather know this pain than to have never carried my twins within me. I'd rather be broken with a part of them in my heart than to never have experienced the joy of what they were to me. to my family. I wish they were running around...keeping me too busy to write. But they aren't. And I have to live with that no matter which side of the tug of war wins. Thanks for your words.
I think I understand the resentment that you describe and the tension between being the mother I want to be, the mother J deserves, and not denying her sister and my own grief. But I do so long to be 'normal' again, just for an hour or two. Sometimes I just feel so tired of the situation, not knowing what to say or how to act.
Perhaps Emma's grave has simply ceased to be a place you feel close to her? Although G does not have a grave for me to visit, I find that I do not open her memory box anywhere near as frequently as I once did. And perhaps part of that is denial. Because I can't bear to see the contents any more?
I don't think you are pushing Emma away from you. As Jenni said recently (hope you don't me quoting you Jenni) 'I'm starting to let her spirit be separate from my own . .' I can't describe the feeling that I get from the end of this post better than that. Just a separateness rather than a pushing away or a drifting off perhaps?
Oh Jill. This exactly. Yes. I've stopped correcting people when they call Moe our 'second'. I'd just rather pretend, sometimes.
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