There are things you can guarantee when it comes to the grieving process. There will be some good days and some that are bad. There will be days that you feel like, despite the heartache, your life will be okay–that you’re doing fine considering the circumstances. Than there will be others where you can barely stand up and when not living may sound like a good alternative to life as you know it today–even if deep down you know that you don’t want to die. I would guess that the lowest moments are simply (or not-so-simply) fueled by the want to be with our children. The need to be parents. The want to hold our children close to our heart like all of the people around us who can cradle their babies in real life. We feel that staying here to endure the unspeakable pain of losing our children is much worse than leaving this Earth to be with our babies immediately. I know that my husband and I have both traveled across this spectrum of grief. If you’ve stumbled onto my blog (and are still reading) I’m sure that you know what I’m talking about. One of the things I’ve learned from this experience is that we all have life lines that accompany us on this uncertain journey. I believe that everyone has at least one thing or one person that motivates them to keep going. It may be your husband or wife–maybe that you know how much their survival depends on you being here. It may be the love you have for your parents–that they would be devastated if they lost their child–something we can understand all too well. Maybe it’s your little angel baby–that as much as you want to be with them, you also want people here to know how much you loved them–how much you still do even though they’re gone. Maybe you want to do something to honor them. I believe that’s a big one–considering how many blogs I’ve seen and the number of parents who are compelled to tell their own stories. I want to task you to take note of what you consider to be your life line(s). Don’t lose sight of them because they will be your guiding light through this terrible thing that has happened to you. And, that it is possible over time for that one thing, or one person to become two, maybe three, or more. A snowball effect, but in a good way.
My life line has, most importantly, been my husband. I don’t think I’d be here today if he hadn’t been by my side from the beginning. I live to make him happy, to see him smile. I want to make it through this experience with him–to witness our relationship become stronger and to become better people–happier people. To become more satisfied with the life we lead–as individuals and together. Our parents are definitely up there on the list. I know that the thought of losing them is scary and can only imagine how they would feel losing us. To some it might be silly, but our dogs are big for me. I love them and feel a motherly responsibility to take care of them. Rylan is, of course, a big motivator. He is the reason that I sit here typing–telling his story. Our story. My story. With hopes of helping other people enduring the same loss. The people who read this are also on my list, then. See what I mean about a snowball effect? My list grows well beyond the above as my days move on. I admit that when things are darkest it’s hard to see beyond the sadness. I guess I’m asking you to hold onto your life line(s) when things get hard. I can’t promise that you’ll be absolved of your pain. I’m certainly not there and don’t really feel like there will ever be a time that I feel 100% okay. But I’m still here. I’m making it through. And, so will you. If you’ve read previous posts you may already know that many times I write when I’m feeling pretty low. I guess that’s why I wanted to write today. Today is a good day for me. I wanted you to see that for every couple crappy days you experience you will also have good ones. You will have days to reflect on the obstacles you’ve overcome. Even small ones are important. Don’t lose sight of how far you’ve come (even if it’s only been 1 week).
Thank you for reading and for giving me another reason to go on.
4 thoughts on “Reflection”
Hi Megan – I found your site through your mom (she was one of my daughter’s teachers when she was in day care). Just over a month ago, on July 24, I too lost my son Lincoln. He was stillborn at 24 weeks. I don’t need to tell you that every minute since has been awful… just wanted to let you know I enjoy reading your blog because you’ve perfectly captured all the feelings/thoughts I have been having in the minutes, days, weeks since our loss. Keeping you and your family in my thoughts.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my blog, and for letting me know that it is helping you in some way. If putting my story and feelings out there help at least one person–even in the smallest way–it goes a long way in helping me, too. It sheds a positive light during the darkest and most difficult time of my life. I’d like to recommend two other blogs to you that I read often: littlelightluke.wordpress.com and rememberingdoria.com. They may give you some additional perspective. Sometimes it’s just nice to know that someone else is or has gone through something similar. Especially when most days you can be surrounded by people who don’t know what you’re going through. I’m glad that my mom reached out to you and please know if you ever need anything just let her know…she knows where I live (lol).
This is really good. Thanks for a unique look at hope!
Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts. Especially since you must be a little busier now (lol). Best wishes to you and your family. Thank you for giving us hope for the future. 🙂