Gratitude Project Post #6

Just for Today

Just for today I will try to live through the next 24 hours

and not expect to get over my child's death,

but instead learn to live with it, just one day at a time.

Just for today I will remember my child's life,
not just her death,

and bask in the comfort of all those treasured days and moments we shared.

Just for today I will forgive all the family and friends
who didn't help or comfort me the way I needed them to.

They truly did not know how.

Just for today I will smile no matter how much I hurt on the inside,

for maybe if I smile a little, my heart will soften and I will begin to heal.

Just for today I will reach out to comfort a relative or friend of my child,

for they are hurting too, and perhaps we can help each other.

Just for today I will free myself from my self-inflicted burden of guilt,

for deep in my heart I know if there was anything in this world I could have done to save my child from death,

I would have done it.

Just for today I will offer my hand in friendship to another bereaved parent,

for I do know how they feel.

Just for today when my heart feels like breaking,

I will stop and remember that grief is the price we pay for loving, and the only reason I hurt is because

I had the privilege of loving so much

Just for today I will not compare myself with others.

I am fortunate to be who I am, and have had my child for as long as I did.

Just for today I will allow myself to be happy,

for I know that I am not deserting her by living on.

Just for today I will accept that I did not die when my child did, my life did go on,

and I am the only one who can make that life worthwhile once more.

~Vicki Tushingham

I've come across many poems, songs, and quotes about loss over the past few months, some of which spoke to me more than others. The one below resonates with me on several levels. It's become a prayer of sorts that I read on a regular basis, and often find myself reciting parts of in my head.  The bolded section is one that's been on my mind a lot lately, as I crawl out of the deep, dark hole that is early grief.  Moving on with life is bittersweet.  I've read about how baby loss moms struggle with moving past the intial, deep grief, toward a higher level of functioning.  I can see why.  We don't have those concrete memories of time spent together that most people have when they lose a loved one.  Sure, we have those months with that baby growing in our bellies, but we were just getting to know that little life when it was so quickly ripped away.  The grief, no matter how lonely and sad, is all we have.  Returning to a state of higher functioning feels like beytrayal, like moving away from the only connection we have left.  Sure, we eventually smile and laugh and enjoy life again.  But with the return of those happy feelings comes guilt.  Those conflicting thoughts and emotions are confusing.  Just like so many other parts of this experience, I don't have the answers.  I can't sort out my feelings (or actions even) in any way that makes any logical sense.  The emotions just are. 

Today I am grateful for the return of certain parts of myself that I feared had gone missing forever.  I've found myself doing lots of exploring with my new, fancy camera lately (the camera we orignally bought in June for the purpose of documenting Virginia's babyhood and childhood).  I've always enjoyed photography (I think it runs in the family).  A few weeks ago, I went to a park in East Sacramento with a friend to walk and talk and enjoy some fresh air.  I brought my camera along and was able to take some pictures of the rose garden in the park, as well as my friend Julie's adorable dog, Sadie.  I left that day with a smile on my face.  It feels good to have a part of me back, even if only for an afternoon. 

Gratitude Project Post #5

I've come to realize over the last few months that successes can be small.  Tiny.  Minuscule, even.  I guess I'd call this Thanksgiving a success.  I made it through the day.  And it was not nearly as bad as I had anticipated.  It was even tolerable, thanks to the support of friends and family.  But there was something huge missing.  There was supposed to be 3 month-old in my arms.  She was supposed to be meeting her great grandparents for the first time.  She was supposed to be taking her first trip to Montana.  We were supposed to be thankful for this miraculous bundle of joy.  The holidays will forever feel empty without her.  Sure, we will celebrate and enjoy holidays with our future children, but there will also always be something missing.

This is where I am today.  Thanksgiving has come and passed.  And just as we have over the last 15 weeks, somehow, we survived.  That's something to be thankful for, right? 

Grandma Ginny and I.  Thanksgiving 2012

Gratitude Project Post #4

I'm kind of a music junkie.  If it wasn't evident from my previous post in October about all of the songs that remind me of Virginia, I'll say it again.  I am constantly amazed by how certain songs seem to be able to portray exactly how I'm feeling at different points in my life, through both the struggles and triumphs.  So what I'm grateful for today is the power of music.  One of my oldest girlfriends sent me this song, and I wanted to pass it along to you all.  Enjoy. 

Gratitude Project Post #3

Over the last few days, I've been battling an internal struggle.  How is it possible that we could have anything in our lives to be grateful for after losing our daughter?  This just goes to show how up and down the grieving process can be.  I am often able to look at our experience and appreciate the ways our lives have changed for the better because of what we've been through.  But that's not where I'm at right now.  In fact, it's been almost a week since I last felt like that. 

Our lives have done a 180 over the last 13 weeks.  Everything in our lives has changed.  Every single thing.  Work feels eerily similar, yet completely different at the same time.  Our marriage has changed.  We have lost friends.  We have gained friends.  Even our house has a different feel to it.  It's so unfair that, not only do we have to mourn the loss of our daughter, but we also have to deal with all of the changes that accompany loss.  It's like someone takes your life and flips it completely on its head, and then, as the dust settles, you realize that nothing will ever been the same.  There is no way to pick up all of the pieces and put them together exactly as they were before.  Maybe you can come close, but now there are things that just don't quite "fit".  We may look the same from the outside, our lives look the same from the outside, yet we are totally different people now.  We will never go back to being who we were before.  In some ways, this is terribly sad.  But at the same time, we have a unique perspective now.  We are able to let the insignificant, petty aspects of our lives fall away.  We realize how short and fleeting life is, and how little time there is for things that don't bring us peace or joy or fulfillment.  We have a daughter who is always watching us, who we want to our live for.  We feel compelled to live our lives to the fullest, in honor of our daughter who will never have a chance to.  We appreciate the little things, like quiet time spent alone, a long walk with the dog, the beauty of nature. 

My love affair with sunsets continues.  Today, even as I struggle to find the positive in this heap of crap in which we've landed, I am grateful for the beautiful skyscapes.  On those days, like today, the deep ache in my stomach hurts so bad I can barely eat, and my arms feel both heavy and incredibly empty at the same time.  But when I look up at the sky and see something so wonderfully beautiful, I know that is a gift from my little girl, her way of saying, "Mommy, don't be sad.  I'm here with you every day."

Gratitude Project Post #2

I've been pondering this post for the last few days, going round and round about where to start.  There's no eloquent way to say this, but today I'm reflecting on how grateful I am that other women have been through this before me.  Allow me to explain. 

I hate the fact that there are so many women in this world who have had to walk this path that I now find myself on.  It's not fair that so many others have felt this deep, searing pain of losing a baby that they barely had a chance to know.  Nobody should ever have to say hello and goodbye to their baby in the span of hours.  Or go to the hospital intending to hear a healthy heartbeat, only to leave with nothing but empty arms, a broken heart, and a box full of stuff.  But I am grateful that others have walked this road before me, and can serve as sources of hope and inspiration. In some of my darkest times, when I have been reduced to a weeping puddle of nothing, the only thing that's been able to pull me out of that abyss is the comforting words of another baby loss mom.  Some I communicate with via email, telephone, or the internet.  Some I've never actually communicated with directly (I've only read their blog).  In fact, I've spent many sleepless nights reading the blogs of women who have been so brave as to write deeply personal, touching posts about their own grief journeys.  These women have no idea how profound their words are to me.  I wish I could write individual thank-you notes to each and every one of them. 

It's not that any of these women have the magic combination of words that can suddenly make everything better.  Sometimes the best words to hear are, "I know it hurts right now.  You will always miss your baby, but it won't always hurt this bad."  For now, I have to have faith that they are speaking the truth.  I have to have hope for the future, that there will be better and brighter days ahead.  And in the meantime, I will count my blessings and be thankful that, although I find myself living in every parent's worst nightmare, at least I'm in good company. 

If you are one of those women who has cried with me over the loss of our babies, and has held my hand (either physically or virtually) and offered words of encouragement throughout my grief process, THANK YOU.  Sincerely. 

The Gratitude Project

I've seen several blog writers participating in a projects which revolve around giving thanks during the month of November.  After having spent the last month discussing nothing but grief and sadness, I feel like it would be good to switch gears for the month of November, and do some posts on the many blessings in our lives that we have to be thankful for.  I don't know if I have the stamina to post every single day, but I'm going to try to create some posts that discuss the many things that we have to be thankful for (some of which have arisen out of losing our daughter). 

So here we go, post #1 of the Gratitude Project. 

Today, I am thankful for the newfound simplicity in my life.  Over the last few weeks, I've done a lot of emotional "housecleaning", taking stock of what I have in my life that's just not working for me anymore.  I have enough in my life that brings me down.  I have enough heartache, sadness, and grief.   I have no more mental space for anything that no longer brings me happiness or joy.  I've learned so much about myself throughout my grief process.  I've learned that it's okay to be selfish.  I've learned to be gentle and let myself off the hook.  I've learned that I can let others off the hook as well, because not everyone in my life is going to be able to give me what I need right now, and that's ok.  I've learned to not take things so personally.  And you know what?  I feel good.  I feel like I'm living again, rather than just existing.  The grief is still there, waiting in the shadows to sneak up on me when I'm least expecting it.  But I have more good days than bad lately, and I think a large part of that has to do with letting go of the excess and simplifying, getting rid of the BS.  And I truthfully don't think I would have been brought to this point if we hadn't lost Virginia.  So I have her to thank for showing me what's really important.  I am so grateful for that. 

Day 31: Sunset

Day 31: Sunset

Capture Your Grief Project

The Capture Your Grief project concludes with a sunset picture.  October 31st was a cloudy, overcast, yucky day here, and I was not really in the mood to be out of the house at that time of day, being that 10/31 is also Halloween.  So I decided to post the above picture instead, of Pat and I in Ventura Beach a few years ago.  I look back on older pictures now and wonder how we could've been so naive.  What if we had known the pain and hardship that we would face down the road?   Would we have done anything differently?  Some days I start spinning, thinking about all of the what-if's.  Maybe if I had done one small thing differently, my life would have taken a different trajectory and Virginia would be here with us.  Maybe if I had waited to get pregnant...  Maybe if I didn't eat so much sugar while I was pregnant...  Maybe if I hadn't exercised as much...  Maybe if I had gotten a 4-d ultrasound... 

But then I think about what my therapist said during our first appointment with her: we trick ourselves into thinking that we have control over every aspect of our lives.  We are so mistaken.  The most important things in life are those that we have absolutely no control over.  We can control so much: our education, our jobs, our finances, our relationships, the accumulation of all the material crap that we deem as important.  But we can't control life and death.  Realizing that is both liberating and terrifying. 

I'm not sure how I got off on such a tangent, or what any of this has to do with sunsets.  So kudos to you if you were able to stay with me for this entire post.  I'm so grateful I participated in this project and was able to share some of our grief journey with you all.  And to those of you who have commented on enjoying reading the blog, thank you.  Thank you for continuing to think about us and pray for us.  Thank you for being respectful of this place, this tiny corner of the internet that I've used to share some of my most personal thoughts and feelings.  Your support has meant so much to both of us. 

Coming soon, a new project for the month of November.  Stay tuned.