Saturday, 30 July 2011

At the Kitchen Table - Time (Glow in the Woods)

1. How much time has passed since the death of your child(ren)? Do you mark grief in months, weeks or years? Does it seem to be going fast or slow?

It's nearly three years now and I mark it in years, although it surprises me to be doing that. When I was doing the "Right Where I am" project, it took me a while to work out how many months I needed to append to the two year mark and last month, I actually missed the significance of the fourteenth for the first time ever. Fast or slow is relative really - it's seems like a lifetime since Emma died, as though this has been my life forever but then I look at my living children (especially rainbow Toby) and I seem to have blinked and got from October 14th 2008 to here instantaneously.

2. Do you have an end goal to your grief? How much time do you think that will take? How much time did you think you'd need to get there right after your loss? How much time do you think you need now?

No, I don't. At the very beginning, I believed something good HAD to come out of her death and a sort of unsaid end goal was that my grief would make me a veritable Mother Teresa - calm, compassionate, charitable. I thought a couple of years down the line, I'd be such an amazing person!! Pretty quickly, I realised that it wasn't going to work like that and I'm actually less of those things when the grief is sharpest. Nothing "good" is good enough to justify my baby's death. From then on, I lived very much in the moment. I decided to embrace whatever I was feeling - even if it was horrible or negative. So, no end goal just the ongoing plan to embrace whatever grief hurls at me and deal with it.

3. Rather than a clear end goal, is there a milestone or marker to indicate that you are feeling grief less acutely, i.e. going to a baby shower, listening to a song that made you cry early in grief, driving past the hospital? How long did it take to get there?

My sister-in-law is pregnant (actually all 3 of my SILs are pregnant!) She's the mother of Emma's shadow companion - her daughter was born alive five weeks before Emma was born dead. The baby she's expecting is her third - I don't find thirds easy at the best of times. As much as I love her, I've been having a hard time with her news. Yesterday, they found out they are having a baby boy - I was able to say "congratulations" and genuinely mean it. I didn't need to excuse myself to go and have a little cry somewhere. That was a revelation (and I doubt I'd have managed it, if little one had been a girl but, hey, it's a baby step).

4. How do you view the time you had with your child, either alive (within or outside) or already deceased? Before you all answer "Too short! Not enough!", did you have time to "bond" or develop a future imagination about what this child would be like? Perhaps depending on whether yours was cut short, how do you now feel about the nine-month period of gestation -- too long or not long enough?

I adored my pregnancy with Emma - I love being pregnant, I feel happy and beautiful and utterly bonded with my babies for the 40 or so weeks I carry them. Emma's pregnancy was, if anything, the most special. I was pregnant after a miscarriage and determined to suck the joy out of being pregnant again. I also believed she would be my last baby so I journalled and photographed and belly painted - moments that are beyond precious to me now. The time after her birth/death was so surreal. We only found out she was dead after she was born so we had had no time to think about how to handle the time afterwards. We had to simply go with our instincts and, looking back, I think our instincts were good. What we did was right for us, for our older children and for Emma.

5. One grief book suggested that it took 2-5 years to incorporate your grief into your life. Where are you on this timeline, and you do you find that to be true?

I'm just past the beginning of that "milestone" and I think it is true. I have written here about feeling acceptance and integration. Grief is a sly beastie and I don't stay integrated or accepting but the times when I do are getting longer in duration. I would imagine that over the next 2 or 3 years (although I've not thought about it), that will continue to be true.

6. There's a familiar saying, "Time Heals all wounds." Do you think this is true? Or do you subscribe to Edna St. Vincent Milay: "Time does not bring relief, you all have lied"?

I can't remember if I've used this analogy here before. One of the most useful things that our wonderful bereavement midwife said to us was that our grief is like a heavy, black ball that is handed to us when our babies die. We can't put it down, we can't see round it. Gradually, our arms get stronger and we feel more able to carry the ball and we find things to wrap around the ball, to cover the ugliness. Crucially, the ball never gets smaller, we just get used to its shape and weight. That's how I think of time - it doesn't heal the wounds, it just allows us to build up the stamina to carry the grief and the ability to expand around it.

7. Has your relationship with the future (immediate and far) changed since the death of your child(ren)? How about your relationship with the past?

I feel nostalgic for the past - I miss the person I was back then. Of course, there's an element of rose tinting because the person I was back then had some undoubtedly annoying quirks but I liked her, you know? Her confidence and naivety. I'm still not sure I like the "new" me.

The future - I struggle hugely with anxiety and I have major trust issues. I find it best not to look too far ahead, it makes me nervous to try especially with regards to my living children.

8. How long did it take to answer these questions?

 About 40 minutes but I was watching TV at the same time!!

12 comments:

Jeanette said...

I'm not sure I like the new me either.
It's comforting to read these posts and know others feel similarly to how I feel. Then I know I'm not so alone, y'know?

Maddie said...

My sister in law is pregnant with her first and I'm struggling with it. I love them and they've been nothing but supportive of us but I'm finding it hard and terrified they're going to have a girl.

Catherine W said...

I'm glad you had such a wonderful pregnancy with Emma and that you have happy memories of the time that you and your girl spent together.

And I also seem to struggle more with girls. With boys, yes, my congratulations would be more genuine but girls always cause a little stab of pain.

I like the analogy of the black, ugly ball and how we gradually build up our stamina. That makes a lot of sense to me. xo

Hope's Mama said...

Lots and lots in here I could relate to, Jill. But that's not surprising given we joined this club just months apart and both lost girls in similar, tragic circumstances.
I too can't believe how quickly I got to this point, when time seemed to drag for so long.
I too don't always like the new me.
I too loved my pregnancy with Hope and basked in all the joys of it and how easy I found it.
I love the time analogy.
I too struggle with anxiety and trust and I also find it hard to plan ahead.
Glad you participated in this project. Not sure I'm in a great place for it now.
xo

Tess said...

I do relate to the 'black, ugly ball analogy (first hearing it as the giant, heavy rock), as Catherine said, it does make so much sense.

I too have this certain rose tinted vision of my past, with the naivety and innocence all gone.
Thank you for sharing Jill

Clare said...

Shadow companion, that's exactly the phrase I was searching for when I was just blogging. My friend who I've known since I was 7 and had a daughter a trimerster before me is now pregnant again. She's having another daughter aswell. As if 1 daughter wasn't enough.

Do you know I don't like some parts of the new me. I think the hate and envy aren't the nicest parts.

Anonymous said...

The black ball analogy is just what I needed tonight. I think of the lines from Rabbit Hole about the brick.
It is so good to read your beautiful words about where you are a few years down this path. You give me hope, and at the same time your words reassure me that no matter where we are on this path, many of us are feeling quite the same about each twist and turn.

Addi's mom said...

I love the analogy you used about the black ball. That seems the best way to describe it!

Merry said...

The black ball thing is very true. My counsellor described it as a huge circle inside us (I hesitate to say hole, as that isn't quite it) that we gradually learn to live with and in some respects we just grow bigger to accept it. It doesn't shrink, but it does become manageable.

I am finding moving on, relentless thing which is happening to me, very hard indeed.

Josh Jackson said...

Three years out. It's hard to even wrap my mind around the fact that you and so many others are years out from your loss. I can see it here in your perspective; your insight and contentment with the black ball of grief. Thanks for tagging onto the Glow post.

Liz said...

wow, you have ouched on so much of my own feelings. especially "unsaid end goal was that my grief would make me a veritable Mother Teresa - calm, compassionate, charitable. I thought a couple of years down the line, I'd be such an amazing person!! "
yeah that. i also was a bit thrown on my ass when my grief turned not so pretty. i am not sure i like the new me either.

Holly said...

I really like the analogy of the black ball. I haven't heard it said like that and I think it is very accurate! So thanks for sharing that!!

How wonderful you chronicled Emma's pregnancy so well and now those things are treasures.