Cycles

It's very well known among the literature on grief that the emotions that come with grieving are cyclical.  There are phases of immense sadness and despair, feeling hopeless and helpless and unsure of how to carry on.  I've been there.  Believe me, I've spent many, MANY hours lost in sadness in those early days and months.  There are also periods of acceptance and peace, not that the loss suddenly feels "ok", more that there's a sense of peace with this new reality and some of the silver linings and blessings that can come from having loved and lost become more apparent.  But between those two emotions, there's a lot of gray area.  A lot.  I've spent a lot of time in that gray area over the last several months.  And that's a good thing.  In the gray area, there is a little balance.  The gray area is manageable.  But like I talked about in one of my last posts, I'm easily set off these days, and before I know it, the grief feels as raw as it did in those early weeks, and I find myself escaping to my old standby--curled in a ball in the shower, sobbing uncontrollably.  All because the cat puked on the carpet, or I can't get Cami to quit fussing long enough to go down for a nap.  I'd like to say I've done all kinds of soul searching, working through emotions and trying to catch myself before I spiral.  But I'm not doing a very good job at taking some private time for myself these days.  Cami has become a busy, high-maintenance baby, and it's really sinking in now that my time is not my own anymore.  I don't mean to sound ungrateful, please don't get me wrong.  I'm just realizing that now more than ever, I need to work on myself, and make time to deal with my grief before it deals with me.  I'm not really comfortable going into more detail on here about what that will look like for me, but I wanted to put this all out there for any other loss moms who may be reading this, and/or for families or friends of loss moms.  The battle is never-ending.  It's been almost 19 months since Virginia was born, and the grief is still very fresh some days.  I have to say, I didn't imagine 18 months ago that at this point, I would still have these times that are so difficult.  And while I know this is pretty normal, I also know I don't want to reach my breaking point.  I owe it to Cami and Pat to do what's necessary to keep myself as physically and emotionally healthy as possible.  So I may be taking a break from the blog for awhile, to gather my thoughts, process some of my emotions, and regroup.

I'll be back, I promise.  I always come back.  :)

Love you all,

It All Comes Back to Grief

I had an annual visit with my primary care doctor yesterday, which was spent reminiscing on the events that had transpired since the last time I had seen her (which was a few months after losing Virginia).  I didn't realize until we spent several minutes talking, just how much my life has changed and how many lessons I've learned since Virginia left us.

Lately, one of those lessons is how something so wonderful can also be simultaneously frustrating.  I'm talking about parenthood.  Taking care of an infant is TOUGH.  I've commented to a few of my friends and family members lately that it seems as if some of the best days are immediately followed by some of the worst.  I can have a day where I feel like I'm on top of the world; Cami is sleeping and eating well, she's happy and playful and rarely cries.  On those days, I have time to workout, get some chores done around the house, catch up with friends on the phone through email, cook dinner, even blow dry my hair and put makeup on.  My self-confidence soars, and I feel like I've got this mommy thing down.  Then the nighttime rolls around, and she wakes up screaming every 45 minutes and is overtired.  Then I get hit with illness from one night of poor sleep (my immune system sucks), I have to cancel my workout because doing so in a zombie like state would be unsafe at best, we have no food in the pantry, phone calls and emails go unreturned, and I'm lucky if I'm able to get my teeth brushed and maybe sneak in a shower--forget actually getting dressed and doing anything besides throwing a ponytail in my hair.  I've spent many of those days and nights sobbing, feeling frustrated and defeated and like I have no idea what I'm doing.  My self-confidence plummets, and I wonder if I'm really cut out to be a stay-at-home mom.  

Coincidentally (or maybe not-so-coincidentally), those are the days when I miss Virginia the most.  Those are the days when the grief rolls back in and brings me to my knees.  I spend those days crying not only because of the frustrations of the day, but because when one thing goes wrong, it all comes back to grief.  It  becomes easy to catastrophize and focus on everything that's ever been unfair or difficult in my life.  It all comes back to missing V.  

I don't really know what the point of this post is, except to say that this is something that has been on my mind quite often over the last 5 months.  I don't think it's possible to compartmentalize my grief--to say that the negative emotions should all exist separately in a vacuum.  But I do hope that at some point in the future, I'll be able to deal with the frustrations of daily life without letting them be a catalyst for the reappearance of that soul-crushing, mental-state destroying grief (does that make sense?  It does in my head, but I'm not sure I'm articulating very well).  I don't know how to get to that point.  Is it something I should consciously focus on?  Or is it a skill I will acquire over time, as the pulsing of grief dulls a bit?  I don't know.  

A Not-So-Triumphant Return

First of all, thank you to those of you who have still been religiously checking the blog, and who have reached out to make sure we're ok.  We are ok, I promise.  But life with a baby has made for some really busy days, and long, sleepless nights.  And anything that isn't absolutely necessary (i.e. showering, vacuuming my carpet, walking the dog) has gone by the wayside, and unfortunately, that includes the blog.  We started a photo stream on my iPhone for family and friends to share photos of Cami as she grows, so that's temporarily taken the place of any other form of social media (which reminds me, if you know me in real life and haven't been invited to view the photo stream, shoot me an email and I'll make sure to include you).  Anyway, all this to say, I apologize for my absence on here.

Being busy isn't the only culprit for my lack of blog posts.  Having no free time is a huge hurdle, as anyone who has ever had a newborn knows.  But I'm also stuck in this weird place of trying to reconcile what it's like to parent this beautiful, healthy, and happy baby, while also trying to keep the memory of Virginia alive.  And some days, I feel like my attempts at reminding everyone that I have another daughter are futile.  The holidays were particularly difficult.  We told all our family and friends that we wanted to have a quiet holiday here in California, just the 3 of us.  And the truth is, my hope in doing that was to seclude myself from anyone else's expectations of me this holiday season.  It's so wonderful that we were able to celebrate Cami's first Christmas, and we had a fun time participating in all the holiday traditions (going to get a tree, cooking a nice Christmas Eve dinner, etc).  I don't want anything to take away from how grateful we were to have a live child to celebrate Christmas with this year.  But the holidays were, and will always be, a sad reminder of the fact that our family will forever be incomplete.  Anytime occasion that allows the family to spend time together will always have a sad undertone for us.  I anticipate that will become easier to deal with as the years pass.  But this year was hard.  I bounced between overwhelming feelings of happiness for this wonderful blessing we have in our lives, and complete and utter sadness because I know now how amazing it is to parent a living child; I know now what I was missing before.  My heart still aches to experience all of that with Virginia.  I don't know how to accept that I never will.

So much of the focus lately is on Cami.  She is such a wanted, prayed for, and amazing little person.  She has so much personality and is a perfect mix of her father and I.  But she is not her sister, and she can't replace her sister.  And every month when the 13th passes with fewer and fewer acknowledgements of Virginia's short life, I go through brief periods of depression.  I don't know what to do with that.  It's not anyone's fault, I realize it's both easier, simpler, and less awkward to focus on the baby that's here.  But it's not that simple for me.  So I've stayed away from the blog because my emotions have been so up and down lately, and I have wanted to avoid dealing with anyone else's expectations or judgement.  Truth be told, I am still sad.  Every single day I miss her.  The empty hole in my heart is still very much present.  One of my loss mom girlfriends said it best when she said that Cami's presence makes Virginia's absence that much more difficult.  

What I've realized lately is that I'm not doing a great job at keeping all this bottled up.  My avoidance of blogging for the purpose of not dealing with other's expectations is not serving me.  So I hope you all don't mind if I continue using this blog as an outlet for my grief.  I need an outlet, possibly now more than ever.  I need a means for expressing the complexities of parenting after a loss.  I need a medium for keeping Virginia's memory alive.  I need my little quiet, peaceful corner of the internet where I can continue to remember my first child without any judgement.  

Thank you all for allowing me that.  And in return, here are a few pictures of Cami with Virginia's sock monkey that I've taken every month on the 13th.  :)

 11/13 Cami 1 month old, 15 months since Virginia's birthday

12/13 Cami 2 months old, 16 months since Virginia's birthday

 1/13 Cami 3 months old, 17 months since Virginia's birthday