The Week We Eat Cake

It is that time of the month. It is the week we eat chocolate cake. Feeling the dates creep up on us, it usually starts on the 21st, we go to our local grocery store for a specific cake: same one my mom bought seven months ago tomorrow for Amelia's birthday. We eat it every month. This is one of the little things we do to cope with the crushing pain in our hearts. Same way as we drink beer or wine, cry, etc.

Some people, upon hearing that we eat chocolate cake every month without any concern for our figures and diets, have expressed feelings of jealousy and called us lucky. I am always shocked to hear such a response. Does it really take a death of our own child to let us eat cake without guilt? Maybe for me it did. But I wouldn't call myself lucky for that. I'd rather have Amelia in my arms, and leave the cake at the grocery store for someone else to eat. But I can't, so instead I drown my sorrow with chocolate. So I wonder, don't these people realize it? Do they really think we are lucky because we let ourselves eat cake?  I'm really trying to get my head around the way our life events shape our perceptions. I mean, would you really want to be me? Even if that means you can eat as much cake as you want? I doubt it. So why get jealous?

Just saw this on failblog.org. How perfect is this!

Argh! Time for me to get another slice :)

Kids do grow up fast...

Here it is. Five months since you passed away. I still don't know what to call it: died, became and angel, or a cloud? You should be learning to sit and stand, instead I wonder how close to going back to the Earth are you? I don't think it's morbid, just a fact of life. The "present" reality. Makes me kind of scared of the future. But since we are, I believe, programmed by evolution to hope and carry on, so shall I.


I don't understand how my grief can be getting better and harder as time goes on. Every emotion has its own wavelength, different feelings come at different times. Moments of intense grief are now alternated with good, even beautiful emotions. When I feel good, I see the tiniest changes in shades of colour, the harmony of sounds around me. The wind touches my shoulders and I think of Amelia, what if it's her little hand, gently caressing my shoulder. I smile as I love my daughter more and more...

But on moments like right now, like today, all I feel is shattered dreams on the edges of what should have been. I can't look back, it feels like I'm in a triangle, where looking back and looking forward still gets me nowhere. Sadly, being "in the moment" really sucks.

Since I'm a fighter, I'm looking for a way to relieve stress that works. None of my former methods of exercising or meditating work. Argh!!! Any advice? Please :)

Can I take a shortcut?

About two weeks ago I decided to see what what happens if I am withdrawn from the world of bereaved parenthood, so I tried going along with what used to be "normal" life. These two weeks felt very long, painfully low. I realised that there is no way of going around the pain. Instead of letting feelings out throughout the day, in waves of highs and lows, I gathered them all up into one big lump of pain for my brain to sort through during the night.

I haven't slept well since I stopped going on MISS Foundation, a wonderful support forum for bereaved parents. I have been feeling lost in my thoughts since I stopped writing here. I became confused, to the point of sometimes "snapping out of it" to realise all over again that Amelia died. It stopped me in my tracks, sending me into cold shivers.

The feeling of isolation was asso overwhelming. While I have lots of great and supportive people around me, there are only a few who really know what it's like to be here. I actually think it would be a good idea to have a meetup group for bereaved moms and dads, just like they have pregnancy and new mommy groups. It helped me so much during my pregnancy when I got together with women pretty much walking in my shoes, that I can only imagine how helpful it would be to have a group like that. Can you imagine registering a DBMs (dead baby mamas :) group on meetup!? Oh, the new found morbid sense of humour :)

Seriously though, this is what it feels like sometimes. When we joke about taking Amelia out to give her a big hug, is when we realise how horrid the event is.



I guess it's time to paint Amelia's room a pretty green colour. Somehow I know that green and lilac would have been her thing...

Lots of love.


Here is a link to MISS Foundation:

http://www.missfoundation.org/

Sequence of Events

Yesterday, the 23rd, was three months since Amelia was alive. Today, the 24th, is three months since she died. Tomorrow, the 25th, will be three months since she was born.

I am struggling with acceptance of the sequence of these events. How can my child be dead before she is born? How can I bury my newborn?

Nothing makes sense anymore, life and everything in it is up for an evaluation, a scrutinizing one. What mattered before, has no meaning, what had no meaning before is now the way of life.


What remains a constant is missing my girl.

Meeting at the Lawn

I bought some beautiful Irises for Amelia and I to share. A bunch of blue and and yellow ones, so bright and pretty. Keeping half of them at home, so that I can look at them and smile, I took the other half to the Lawn this morning.

There I met a very interesting and inspiring father, just in time for Father's day. His son, Tony, died 33 years ago. What a long time... In between our childrens' graves, he told me a heart-wrenching story of his life, as well as a story of his inner strength.

My new friend's words of wisdom are going to stay with me for the rest of my life. You see, there are two kinds of strength, physical and inner. Grief and stress are very physical, you would be surprised. Once your outer shell is broken, your core is all you have to stand on. It's the inner strength that holds us up when life gets rough.

So, how do you build up your inner strength? Well, Tony's dad told me how loosing his son lifted his insecurities and helped him become a better person. I know it sounds very cliche :) Still, it was very inspiring to hear how he believed in himself, and found the strength to grow from his experience. He and his wife have been married for over 33 years, they have grown stronger and tighter together. They have a long-awaited and much loved daughter. It was good to know there is hope...

But for those of you who say: "See, everything will be good!" Here is what I have to say:

Tony's father also talked about the fire of grief. That's where I am right now, right in the pit. There is no other way out of it, but through the thick of the flame. You can't avoid, pretend, or bargain with grief. You will have to face it, sooner or later. It is better to face it and deal with it right away, than try to hide it and have to deal with it later on, which is, according to Tony's dad, tougher.

As I walk on my new path, I am starting to meet Earth Angels. These are people who I believe are sent to us for encouragement, strength, a shoulder to cry on. The ones who help us take the next step. For that, I am grateful.


So the thought of the day is: never do tomorrow, what you can do today.


(As a reminder: nothing here is personal. I am only sharing my deep feelings to help myself and others understand the process of stillbirth grief a bit better. This is somewhat of a journal for research purposes. Of course, all copyright laws apply).