Right Where I Am 2013: Three years, Five months

I get a text once or twice a week about getting together for a play date. Simon is a few months older than G, and he can say her name now and screams when we drive by their house and don't stop. They get along as well as all toddlers do, and they hold hands occasionally. I try not to fast forward 12 years in my mind, when holding hands is something much more weighty.

G's mom, and I have a blast when we get together, even if it's just trying to tame the chaos that our children are together. We share current town news, upcoming events, and our hard dead baby days. The circumstances aren't similar in any way, until you get to the picking out a baby casket, and how to tend to a grave you no longer can easily go visit because you've moved.

We shared the other day how we watch children the age ours our supposed to be, and try to imagine what ours would look like, or how they'd act. And how it guts us to think on what we're missing. I draw and paint butterflies for her, and she participated in Dia de los Muertos with me back in October.

And I know that if we didn't have each other, the move to this town would be that much harder.
----
When I'm not in charge of a my two year old and the normal responsibilities of running a household, I'm planning my next art project and what my next run will be. I'm surprised to say that running takes up a large chunk of my brain space now. An earlier post described my shame in forgetting a BLM holiday due to my anger in having had to miss a race due to illness. That forgetfulness is unheard of, until this year. I speak about Lyra, and miss her more than ever. But it's not always at the forefront of my thoughts like it used to be. I'm not sure if I can say that's a good thing, or if I feel like I'm losing the hold I had with that grief. I won't ever lose it all the way, if that scenario is accurate.

My running has allowed me breathing space to feel a sense of normalcy again. I'm a part of an online running/athletic community where we encourage, support and ask questions about whatever we're trying to accomplish. There are no politics, no religious questions or thumping, and for the most part, no one divulges much of their personal lives. To everyone there I'm just Rachel, a newbie runner who dabbles in strength training and crossfit. I've lost four toenails, my knee has been injured, and I had to miss my first half marathon due to bronchitis.

And it's kinda nice sometimes to only be known by those things.
---
I'm learning who I am still. Who I am with her gone. And who I am without now feeling I have to tell everyone about her. Who I am as me, and not just me missing her. I suppose the two are synonymous. Just like with live children, you have to figure out who you are, separate from just being "Mom". But it's never questioned that you are still "Mom" and your heart would never love your child(ren) less. So I have to remember the same goes for Lyra, even though I don't have her here with me.

I think it's scary to look back at what we've come through. I don't ever want to go back to that kind of pain and hurt again. I hate thinking of Lyra's death as some catalyst for change that could not have happened otherwise. But the grief and pain and my experience of loving her still caused change. And for the first time in a long time, the hurt is not at the forefront of my thinking.
----
Year One: Right Where I Am: One Year Five months
Year Two: Right Where I Am: Two Years, Five months

Add your "Right Where I Am" here.

Right Where I Am: Two Years, Five months

We had a new couple over. And we never mentioned her name. Or her story. Or that aspect of our lives.

Not because she's not important. But because the last two couples we had over, we did mention her, and they never contacted us again. We run into them in town, but nothing ever happens again outside of polite chit chat.

So, last night we talked about high school, and college, and how we met and the big city. But we never mentioned how our hearts were broken and our world fell apart. Sitting here thinking about it, I guess I didn't feel the need to. Or maybe I was afraid to. I don't know if those are synonymous...or if the lack of need is somehow proportionate to the fear of rejection.

I'm lonely, with no friends in this new place. I've tried, and I seem to scare people away. I invite women and their children to events and playdates, and they don't show or respond. I wonder what's wrong with me, worried there's some great flaw that makes me the town pariah. So I scour for the flaws, seeking out what might catch people's eye.

We have pictures of stars, and me being pregnant with Lyra, and Simon...We have our candle and Lyra constellation with a Jizo set up in our home - easy to see if you visit us. Does this make us crazy? Does this make us unlikeable? Who flaunts their dead baby for others to question and squirm away from? Maybe we divulge our lives too quickly. Maybe we're the over sharers, who try too hard.

I don't have a large population to burn through, like in a big city. I don't have the luxury of saying, "to hell with them" when it doesn't work out. But I also can't pretend to be someone else. So, I hope that we'll have a chance to hang out with the couple from last night again, someday maybe sharing some more of our story with them.

Two years and five months out from her death, I'm scared to mention her now though.

----


Consider joining in with where you are. Read where others are at.

----

One year ago - Right Where I Am: One Year Five months

Wordless Wednesdays

----
And on a not so wordless note:
Did you know that the "Right Where I Am" project had 160 participants? I read that in the wee hours this morning and my jaw dropped (I've obviously fallen behind in my reading of them all). And then I read from Angie's post that Josh at JACKatRANDOM created something that pulled the whole project into one unifying piece. It's amazing. I feel all mushy gushy and I don't really know what else to say, but thank you to Angie, and to Josh, and to all of you who participated and shared your perspective in where you are at.

Random: Lyra's spot

If you haven't already, please consider doing a post to be a part of the "Right Where I Am" project. It's a beautiful and encouraging look at where we as a baby loss community are all at in our different journey's. I'm still working my way through many of the posts, and find the honesty and varying grief experiences just amazing. Not the grief itself, but how others have dealt with it, or viewed it, or cursed at it, or triumphed over it, or tucked it away, or flaunted it, or I could go on and on with all the different ways. It's a project I'm incredibly thankful for, and I hope it will continue in future years so we have a chance to see how our baby loss experience shapes us, as individuals and as a community.

----

Went back to our old stomping grounds this weekend. Saw a few people we hoped to, and missed seeing several others we wanted to. And didn't get to Lyra's plot as intended. Simon is furious in the car seat, so we tried to limit his time in the car. Frustrating, as I really wanted to get there and see her spot and update it. But we'll try again next time. I miss visiting her.