Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Right Where I Am: One year, Five months

For the initial jump start for this post, jump over here.
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One year and five months makes it sound like a long time has passed since Lyra died. I suppose it kind of is. I now have Simon here...almost 4 months old. Things have changed. We've moved twice since she's been gone. We have a  house now. We have new neighbors...hell, we have a new town. That in itself changes everything. 


The rawness is gone, but the grief has left an indelible mark on me. I don't cry as often. But the tears are right below the surface some days. I think of her many times throughout my day, and as I discover new things with Simon, I sometimes faze out imagining how she would have been. It may be imaginary interest, but I feel good when Simon gazes at the stars I've put near the changing table or by his crib...or as he giggles at the mobile or pictures we made for her that he now enjoys. It feels like she is a tangible piece of our family and he's interacting with her, even if she can't be here.


But then I step outside the safe boundaries of our home, and re-enter the real world where it looks like we have just one child. And I try to interact with other moms and kids in a semi-normal capacity. Moving back to my hometown means some people know what happened. But even then, she's never really brought up. And those who don't know, ask about her tattooed footprints on my foot and to ease the silence after telling them, I change the subject to some newfound delight about Simon. It's just easier that way, and I'm ok with it. That's just how it will be.


I don't know what I expect from others still. You think I'd have figured that out by now. 


I've found myself falling back into my perfectionism state of mind. It may be the moving, or parenting a live child and fearing failure in that, or just my self critic popping up with a grand zeal again...but whatever the case, I've lost the ability to not care what people think. I feel I've lost a bit of what Lyra brought to me. I do hate that part of moving further away from the rawness of the grief. The raw emotion and grief gave me blinders to the expectations of others...to the fear of falling and failing. I did what felt natural and instinctive, and it felt good to be free. And I've slowly been shackled again. Maybe just because I haven't had time to do as much art. Maybe because I feel looked down upon for staying at home with Simon. So many reasons I could blame it on. But ultimately, I've allowed it to happen.


I feel like I just repeat myself. I have nothing new to offer to the already existing BLM's. The new ones, sure...they are looking for any and all bits of information that prove they can survive this. But I'm not good at interacting with lots of blogs and comments and I'm sure you've all noticed that. I feel like this blog saved my life...that this beautiful blogging community reached out and held me afloat on those hard days. But I don't feel like I'm contributing anything anymore. I'm feeling more disconnected, and alone. I'm not blaming the BLM community for that...but myself. I don't know what to write, and without posting any new art, what do I have? And sometimes what I feel like writing, I don't feel comfortable sharing with the real life readers I know stop by. I've considered closing this blog. But I haven't come to any solid conclusion about that. Maybe it's just run it's course in regards to being an external outlet for my grief. Maybe my grieving is more internal now...in a healthy way. Maybe it's not so healthy. I don't know.


I cringe internally a lot in regards to how grief in general is handled. When bad things happen to other people, and hearing what words are said and how easily it is swept under the rug. I have intentions of creating a FoLFoH group this way. And maybe signing up to help photograph for families...I don't think there's anyone in this neck of the woods who does that. It's heart-wrenching to think a family wouldn't get pictures with their child(ren). Of course I haven't initiated any of that though.


I know I tear up when I read another new story or hear from a friend about a miscarriage/stillbirth/infant death. It often make me flash back to certain moments in those days during and after her death. It doesn't wreck my whole day anymore though.


And because I do wear my heart on my sleeve, and because I believe and hope that maybe it may help another family or BLM feel less awful...I'm still angry and bitter. Mostly at God and religion. I hate to admit that. There are real life people who will be disappointed to read those words. I don't want to be fixed, or have a big, long, drawn out discussion about why I'm wrong. Or what I'm supposed to believe. Or whatever. But I'm not comfortable with the notion that God did this and has some great reason and plan for her death and for my life. And I'm not comfortable abandoning it all either. As I think I would have said before Lyra's death, I'm a life long student, and I'm still learning and figuring stuff out. 


I am "glad" to not feel so bogged down...the weight of it all seems less most days. It's more manageable. Course I'm lucky to have Simon to distract me and keep me busy. I don't know how I would look if I didn't have him here. I wonder how to tell him about her. Or his friends about her. Again, my tattoo is easy to point out, and I wonder how many kids or their parents I'll frighten by telling them babies die.


She's always here...right in my heart...In our home...In our family. I wonder how my grief will look in another year. And how we will continue to remember her.
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Thankfully Angie has brilliant ideas, and gave me an outlet to perhaps throw out something new here. I hope others will describe where they are at in their grief journey...it's important to see. As Angie stated:"Now, it's your turn. Where are you in your grief? Emotionally. Physically. Psychically. Title your post, "Right Where I Am:(Time since your child's death)". then come back here and link your blog post on the Mr. Linky. Click other participants and read about right where they are. Comment if you can. Just a thank you for telling me about right where you are. If you don't want to write a full post, why not just comment here and tell me the time since your loss(es) and anything else you want to share. Spread the word around the community by linking back to this post, so people can find out what grief is like on all stops on the road."

24 comments:

  1. I'm glad Angie has done this project. I like to hear from people how they are doing and I've been a little slack on reading blogs lately. This seems like the perfect way to catch up. I have finally managed to meet a couple of moms up here and we get together for coffee on a regular basis. It has been amazing! We are even talking about doing our own Oct 15 event. Thinking of you, Lyra, and Simon~

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  2. I like how you have just been open and honest here, it's a good project that was started. I can't imagine that it would easy, especially with readers you know in person that may cause you to sensor your words.

    I for one have been blessed by anything and everything you put here. So don't close your blog because you may think you aren't impacting the readers now. You impact and change me. And I think of Lyra and Simon every time I gaze at Elena. So blessings to you today and always.

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  3. See, I get a lot from new babylost mamas, actually. Like your art came into my life months after you lost Lyra, and it was just a new way to look at my grief, a new language. And then we talked, and it helped me so much, because it helps to talk. This is such a beautiful post because of its honesty and sincerity. Thank you for participating. xo

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  4. Thank you for being so honest and real. I appreciated reading this and will remember Lyra. Much love to you.

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  5. Thanks so much for this. I think I'm in a similar place with god and this is hard on my parents and extended family. And I love how clearly this shows that the way we feel and cope with grief keeps changing, that we keep changing, even after the rawness of it has eased.

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  6. Nodding as I'm reading because I feel I'm in a similar place as you. Glad to have you with me on this road.
    xo

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  7. I just said in a comment on another blog (participating in this project) that I didn't read these posts until I had written my own (and I've only just started working my way through them now). I sort of wish I had read a few more now, as each new one I read reminds me of aspects of my own grief that I didn't address. But my post was long enough as it was, so that's probably a good thing!
    Thank you for your honesty in this post and regardless of how often you visit this community and participate in it, your thoughts and views (not to mention your amazing artwork) are always so appreciated.
    xo

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  8. We moved to my hometown when my surviving daughter was 9 months old. I understand so much of what you're saying about the weird social disconnect. I still have no idea what to say to people I've known my whole life.

    This post is so direct and honest. It really pulls at my heart, I wish you didn't have to go through any of this. Please be gentle and patient with yourself. Forever is an incredibly long time.

    Best to you.

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  9. I wrote my post in this project before reading anyone elses. I am actually comforted to see how many of us share the same feelings. It's nice to know that what I am experiencing is normal. Well, as normal as life can be after your baby dies. Thanks so much for sharing.

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  10. I love your honesty here. I'm another one who is reading through all the posts after writing my own, and I'm comforted by how many thoughts and feelings we all share. This community helps me realise I'm not crazy afterall, others feel the way I do too.

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  11. "And I try to interact with other moms and kids in a semi-normal capacity." For me, this was what the first year of my daughter's life was all about. I'm only now starting to feel comfortable being out with other parents and their kids that I don't know.

    Thank you for sharing (and I love your art too).

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  12. "I feel like I just repeat myself..." That whole paragraph I could have written myself. I am not around as much or as active and sometimes feel as though maybe I too need to end my blog... however... I still read your and others and find it refreshing to see where we all are now, the similarities and the differences, some fill me with such happiness and some so much despair for those who continue to struggle yet with them all I still get a sense of belonging... therefore I continue.

    And about the tattoo, I am so happy to have finally put Claire's mark on my body and am proud of it yet at the same time I feel as though I shy away from speaking with grand hand gestures for fear that someone may ask about it... not that I don't want to share, just that I am afraid of what their response or blank stare or lack of feedback because of the "subject matter" may be. That being said, it's for me and I love it. I love her.

    I could go on and on... I won't. Maybe I need to get back to my blog and let it all pour out there! I guess there is more going on in my head than I thought!

    I wish you a great weekend!
    x <3 o

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  13. Thank you for this beautifully honest post.

    xxx

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  14. Reading and nodding. Just nodding over and over. This is exactly where I was at 1 year, 5 months out. Sending love x

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  15. Rachel ... I agree with Angie. While I do not not actively seek the stories and blogs of new BLM's I do often connect if those new BLM's reach out to me. It was that way with you. You reached out, we connected through our art and here we are. I treasure your creative flare and love each thing you have sent to me. I hope one day you will find a way to create again and inspire us with your talent and artistic expression.

    Tell your inner critic I said to "hush"!

    (((hugs)))

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  16. There is so much in this post. I can't imagine having moved twice, that in itself must change everything. Particularly moving back to your home town, where some people will know about Lyra. That situation must bring its own specific difficulties.

    I'm still trying to interact with other moms and kids in a semi-normal capacity myself, I tried with J and am now bracing myself to try again with R. It isn't always easy.

    I love your description of Simon's interactions with Lyra, that she is still a tangible presence in your family and in his life.

    And I agree with Amy, tell that inner critic to keep the noise down. x

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  17. I'm over from Angie's project - thank you for your frank and honest view from where you are now; further along your journey than I. I have found it inspiring to read the range of timelines from others, thank you for sharing. Thinking of Lyra with you

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  18. Death to the real life people. Who needs them, they just mess with your head and want you to be something your not. ef em. online people get it and thats what I want round me now.

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  19. hey girl, thanks for sharing. kinda validates some of my thoughts these days, although I have been on the "internal grief" road for several months now. This past week some old friends were all catching up on emails, everyone was attaching updated pics of their kiddos & growing families. I probably stuffed the excitement and fun-ness of "catching up" by replying and attaching a photo of Leah's grave site full of flowers. As well as sharing about another baby's funeral we had just attended. Oh well, that's my life.
    And, I also still struggle to understand where God's plan comes to play in all of this. You are not alone in those unanswered questions.
    And who the heck is giving you crap about staying home with Simon? That's Craziness, not to mention none-of-their-business!
    Also, I think you STILL have a LOT to offer. Even though you don't have art to share with us these days. That's ok.
    "grief has left an incredible mark on me." Yeah, I feel the same. I feel like it's posted on my forehead some days. Yet other days it's a bit deeper, not visible to most.
    Randomness.
    Loved your post, & as always, your honesty. Love ya girly!

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  20. I feel like I repeat myself constantly in what I write. I have a couple of themes I run through in my head and those seem to be the only things I can write about. I don't know how much use writing is for me anymore either.
    I anticipate some of the same things that you are going through now when -and if- this baby I am carrying now makes it living into my arms. So much of grief is about learning to function again in a completely new reality.
    Thank you for sharing where you are right now.

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  21. I'm another one surprised about how much of this I recognise. This is a great idea to share all this stuff xx

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  22. Thank you for participating in this, Rachel. Especially at a time when you are feeling lost as what to write and what you can offer. I know that you have helped me tremendously...and continue to do so with every post. I never want you to feel alone...always know that people from this community will support and love you in anything you do. Sending major hugs your way...and to your little Lyra and handsome Simon. :)

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  23. I'm here via the linky on Angie's blog, slowly reading my way through all the posts there and feeling very ... nourished, encouraged and relieved by everything I'm reading. There is such a lot of what you wrote here that I recognised completely. Two plus years, I still don't know what I expect from people and I'm just (literally, these last couple of weeks) coming to some conclusions about my faith and my relationship with God (and I reserve the right to change my mind, if I want to!). I forgot to include my struggles with religion in my post so thank you for reminding me of that aspect of this tough journey.

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  24. one year 5 months is still so fresh, so new. I'm so glad I'm not there anymore. I had another baby a year out also. It was painful but healing for me. I hope that you continue to heal and find peace.

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