Grief is an interesting thing.
Whereas I felt very strong in the days after Baby Zee's birth, I find myself increasingly saddened by the situation as time goes on. Life has basically returned to normal, but at the same time I feel like a ghost of my former self. It seems like I'm slowly treading around a puddle of despair, careful not to fall in, but never steady enough to walk away.
As I've said, I'm at peace with Zee's short life, and don't question the eternal purpose of it all, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that things had gone differently. Most of all, I wish I could have had a few more weeks to carry her, a few more hours to hold her, a few more moments before I found out she wasn't going to survive.
But a few more of anything would never be enough, of course.
Why I'm sharing this all with you - many of whom are strangers - is a mystery to me since I seem to be incapable of sharing my true emotions with anyone face to face except Mr. Dub. Everyone else gets the positive version, the happy voice, the smiling face. And while my expressions are sincere, they aren't totally indicative of how I'm feeling. And, yet, I think people will expect me to be all better shortly because I've led them to believe I'm healed.
But writing only the uplifting stuff isn't going to help anyone who is experiencing anything similar.
So on Mondays - as long as I feel like it - I'm going to tell you like it is.
And this is what it's like to have your baby die.
2.18.2008
Cheaper than therapy
Posted by Mrs. Dub at 7:22 AM
33 comments Leave a witty comment hereLabels: Baby Zee, grief, infant loss, musing, triploidy
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33 comments:
it's weird how writing makes us reveal our true feelings. and scary that our blogs are so accessible. i used to toy with the idea of just having a "venting blog" that nobody knew about, just so I could have the experience of typing out real, raw feelings without anyone ever seeing them. i found a different outlet which is more private, though.
i admire your honesty, i think we all expect this to be a process. grieving always takes much longer than you first think it will.
I love you guys.
I love your girls.
I miss your couch.
I echo leslie's sentiments exactly. The healing process can take much longer than we expect, I know it did for me. Thanks for sharing your feelings with us.{{{hugs}}}
your honesty is inspiring. i love you, mrs. dub.
When we had a death in our family it was strange how I would think I was better, but then I would peal back a layer and it hurt all over again. I think it is best to do whatever comes naturally...even if it means sharing your feelings with a bunch of strangers. Thanks for sharing.
i could not have expressed it any better. a lot of the time i don't tell people how i'm really feeling because i don't want them to feel worse for me. blogging is indeed a very good outlet and maybe i'll start up something like this since i can't afford therapy one bit.
keep pluggin along. love you to pieces!
We will all keep reading through thick and thin. You express everything so beautifully.
Bless your heart. I'm always strengthened by your poignant words and open emotions. I wish there was something, Anything, that I could do. xo.
"It seems like I'm slowly treading around a puddle of despair, careful not to fall in, but never steady enough to walk away."
This is probably the most perfect description of grief that I have ever read.
What you don't realize is that by sharing those tender feelings you hide out in "public"...you strengthen others.
You strengthen me. XOXO
P.S. I really, really, really wish you didn't have to go through this.
My shoulder is here to cry on.
(And thank you again for being so open and honest. I learn something from you every time I read your blog).
i love you if you are happy or sad, tall or small, eating tomatoes or not, get the point? i love you.
I love you and I am proud of you.
In my experience, grief over a loved one never really goes away. It just fades into the background as other things in life become more prominent. But it's always there in some form, and it ends up being one of the things that defines who we are. Thank you for talking about it honestly.
Grief is so confusing. I tend to be tough at first, wanting life to just go on as before. But there is always a moment when I crumble. Sometimes it happens long after everyone else has moved on. It's so important to let ourselves just feel what we're feeling. Sharing your feelings with the world is heroic, and you can be sure you are helping others.
I love what you have to say about this. I think it helps if there is someone to tread around the puddle with us. From losses I have experienced, I felt I always wanted to just go around telling strangers about it, so that they would know and stop and mourn with me, too.
Like so many others have said, I am so, so sorry that you have to go through this and I simply cannot imagine what you're going through. I have to be honest, I'm ten weeks along with baby number four and my first response to baby Zee and your experience was to stop reading your blog. It scares me. But, there is something about you and the way that you share yourself that wouldn't allow me to do that.
Writing has always been a wonderful therapy for me as well. Nights when things were overwhelming or beyond my grasp, I'd stay up and write. The public face is sometimes easier to put on and tell people that everything is okay. Sometimes revealing your true feelings to people face to face is so difficult because you haven't been able to completely face those feelings yourself. Just because you have come to terms with Zee's eternal purpose, doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.
There are bunches of us out here in blog world praying for you, caring for you, and admiring you for your strength, your honesty, and your willingness to let us into your world and share your pain.
I love you and little do you know how much I learn from you (even while co-raising you and Hilari) My dear girl, you make me want to be a better person...XOXOXO and so sorry.
i can't imagine haing to deal with this. i'm soy you hav . i lov you!
mrs. dub,
anyone who really knows you, knows that you will always give the most positive version of the story face to face (or ear to ear, in our case) even though we all know the hurt is there. i personally think you do this because you don't want others to worry. that's your compassion always shining through. you are always looking out for your family and friends in this way. which i so admire about you.
but, this is different.
quite frankly, i would think that something was wrong if you were all healed and all better this quickly. i am glad to hear that you are really processing these emotions in stead of "walking away." i think there is a reason why it's called a grief process and why there are steps in this process.
i love that you are willing to write about it, as it is one of your most special talents. you never know all the lives you will touch--mine has.
i love you!
mrs. r
Again, thanks for your honesty. All I know is that you have the right to feel ANY way you want to!!! Nobody should tell you what to feel -- and I appreciate your sharing your feelings with "us". Hang in there.
I'm glad you'll tell us like it is, that's exactly how I want to hear it. I've been thinking so much about you, reading along through this emotional journey, words have just failed me when I go to leave a comment. Anyway...I care, and hope you're healing in every way. Love.
I love you sis!
Mrs Dub,
Thank you for your words, your honesty. You have strength beyond your years. I know that you are watched from on high. I am strengthened by you. I had emergency surgery with an ectopic pregnancy last week. I am currently recovering with the worst migraine headaches which I've never experienced until now. I feel like my little adventure (which was so unexpected and painful) is only a glimps of what you have endured. I know you personally and have cherished your tender love and effervescent personality. I say express all that you desire, it only comforts me more and keeps me close to you despite my move away. I know I'll always have you Mrs. Dubs _ AED
like so many have said, thank you for honestly sharing your feelings with all of us - your blog friends. i'm so grateful for this association w/ you - in blogland - and for your example, courage, and honesty. i'm so sorry you didn't get to keep your baby. i know that in the eternal scheme of things you'll have your baby with you again, and i'm grateful for that knowledge. but i imagine that nothing can take away the pain of missing your child NOW. you have the hope of eternity, but it's still hard today. you are in so many prayers, and i hope that you feel the love and concern and comfort we all wish for you.
Thank you for sharing with us. I know your words will bless someone going through the same situation. You are inspiring.
I wonder why it is so much easier to express our feelings in writing. I think we can trick or mask our weakness by writing with the strength of our words, and with the invisibility of the tears. It's one of the reasons I think internet dating can sometimes be so successful, it is easier to get down to the nitty gritty. (a good htt, internet dating!) Thanks for touching my heart with your story, it is equally as therapeutic for me.
The modern U.S. expectation that we should be unrelentingly happy, that happiness means fun (as compared to joy) and the total absence of effort, pain, discomfort, or responsibility, and that any unhappiness can and should be quickly and immediately counseled or medicated away by third party intervention ultimately robs life of its richness and our character of growth and depth.
As a man I can't possibly fathom what you've gone through physically or emotionally during your complicated pregnancy, diagnosis, delivery crisis, surgery, and loss of little Zee. As your Dad, I'm glad I can't. But I have to think that as the adrenalin and physical response and healing taper off, and the intense support of family and others wanes, the grieving process over loss on so many levels is going to set in and go through cycles that may be predictable and normal from a distance but poignant, painful, and unpredictable up close.
I am so sorry you have to experience that. On one level, I would do anything to take it away, but on another I know it will further temper your amazing strength and resiliency which has already been forged by many prior trials. Why? I have no idea. But I do have supreme confidence that there is a plan, and that there are reasons, and that, short and long term, there are and will be compensations. I love you, I cry for and with you, I am so proud of you. I debated whether to post this, but if you can be brave and open enough to post your feelings, I can, too.
i love you, pdaddy!
I think you'd be cheating yourself, and Baby Zee, if you didn't allow yourself to grieve.
My cousin & his wife lost a baby girl two years ago at 31 weeks due to the growth of a non-cancerous tumor. They joined a support group for people who'd lost babies and it really helped them come to terms with what happened and their feelings about it. They now have a beautiful 9 month old daughter and as hard as it was to lose their first daughter, they wouldn't have their baby girl now if she'd made it.
It's a process, it's your process and you shouldn't deny yourself that. You lost something beautiful and that's not something to get over quickly & easily.
no rush. feel sad! we all would. (in fact, we all DO, just hearing about this.) aside from what our stupid crazy too-fast world tells us: remember that it really is ok to cry. it's ok to write about it... just continue to FEEL and be honest & remind yourself "IT'S OK TO FEEL _____." *hugs*
Dub family,
We will keep you in our prayers.
The Rogers
i wasn't going to post anything, because frankly it's difficult to know what to say... but then i read your dad's comment, and any semblance of emotional control i may have had as i read your post and all the comments that followed flew out the window and i just had to say... aren't dad's great?
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