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.