Tony and I were reflecting about Alfy's birthday this past week. We were talking about how different our interactions were with the people who came to the balloon release and came to our house afterwards. We had both realized that we just didn't interact the same with those we used, those we thought would be there to support us fully in our time of need, but weren't. It was interesting. Tony made a good point that is was almost an ego boost for him, and I recognized it too. Having those people there was like an opportunity to show everyone, look what we did, look what we did without you. We wish you were there for us, but you weren't, so we did what we needed to do anyway.
At times you could almost feel the guilt coming from some, almost as if they were asking you to say that their absence was okay, that we understood. But neither of us did that. It's not okay and I will never tell you it is. I am learning to accept it, but that doesn't mean it's okay. I am trying to forgive it (although that has proven to be a greater challenge than I expected), but that doesn't mean it's okay.
This lead to some new thoughts for me, almost a new perspective, not one I like but one I have now.
My new perspective was triggered the other night by, of all things, Facebook. Now, I have unfollowed an enormous amount of people over the last year, most of whom have new families that they want to share with the world, not realizing not everyone can so easily share in the joy of their world. Tony continues to follow people that I can't. He says it make him appreciate where we are now more and what we've accomplished, the positive side coming out in him:) Anyways, I was looking over his shoulder the other night and I saw a post of a wife of one of Tony's friends. Their second child is on the way and the post identified the upcoming child as a boy. They were at the balloon release and Tony had even seen them since, but now word on their child. I saw another picture of a child I have yet to meet that was born in September. And today, I was dropping off Tony at his parents' house and twins were there that were born shortly before Alfy but I haven't seen since before he was born.
These instances always take me by surprise, cause me to clam up and nearly have a breakdown, cause my anxiety levels to skyrocket. In thinking about them, I've started to wonder if they are grateful that they weren't there for us, grateful that they were able to avoid all of the hard, sad experiences Tony and I have had, grateful that it's us and not them, grateful that we aren't around to remind them of how things can go so terribly wrong. I suspect the answer is yes and it makes me sad.
I'm not sure what to do with this perspective and these thoughts, but I needed to put them out there. I suppose I'll just sit with it for now.
(Contrary to last night's post, apparently I'm finding my words again...)
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Trying to Find Words
I haven't been blogging as much as I once did and I've been trying to figure out why. I've come up with a combination of reasons my word seem to be escaping me these days.
1. I'm empty and hollow. Since celebrating Alfy's birthday there has been an emptiness in my heart and soul. It's not just missing Alfy and wishing he was here with me. I don't know how to explain it. There was lots of build up leading to Alfy's first year in Heaven, it gave me something to focus on my energy for him on. Now it's on to year two and I'm not sure how to do. I'm not sure how to go through all these milestones all over again, so I don't think about it.
2. Kiddo #2. This one has left me without words. I feel detached from Alfy, from grief and from the child growing in me. I can't delve into any of it too deep for fear of not being to come back out. I know I can, but it's a struggle I just don't have the energy for right now. I don't know how to balance the past year with the upcoming year and the overlap that has occurred. I miss Alfy so much and this has been a place I could express that longing. Now my mind is invaded with what this year might have in store, kiddo #2, the good or bad. A guilt start to seeps in when I focus too much attention on this round. I have no idea how to balance these.
3. I'm out of touch with my grief. Like I mentioned above, I haven't been able to go to thick, overwhelming grief in a while. I just don't have the energy to wrestle myself out of it, even it's just an hour of good sobbing. I get anxious when I start to go there and I know the anxiety is not good for me, or anyone else, and that makes it worse. So I avoid it all together. The last time I really felt in touch with my grief was January 11, an hour or so before I figured out there was kiddo #2.
Basically I just feel like I'm a shell of myself walking around, not quite prepared to commit myself to anyone thing, numb to the world around me and the world inside my own body.
At least that's how I feel today.
1. I'm empty and hollow. Since celebrating Alfy's birthday there has been an emptiness in my heart and soul. It's not just missing Alfy and wishing he was here with me. I don't know how to explain it. There was lots of build up leading to Alfy's first year in Heaven, it gave me something to focus on my energy for him on. Now it's on to year two and I'm not sure how to do. I'm not sure how to go through all these milestones all over again, so I don't think about it.
2. Kiddo #2. This one has left me without words. I feel detached from Alfy, from grief and from the child growing in me. I can't delve into any of it too deep for fear of not being to come back out. I know I can, but it's a struggle I just don't have the energy for right now. I don't know how to balance the past year with the upcoming year and the overlap that has occurred. I miss Alfy so much and this has been a place I could express that longing. Now my mind is invaded with what this year might have in store, kiddo #2, the good or bad. A guilt start to seeps in when I focus too much attention on this round. I have no idea how to balance these.
3. I'm out of touch with my grief. Like I mentioned above, I haven't been able to go to thick, overwhelming grief in a while. I just don't have the energy to wrestle myself out of it, even it's just an hour of good sobbing. I get anxious when I start to go there and I know the anxiety is not good for me, or anyone else, and that makes it worse. So I avoid it all together. The last time I really felt in touch with my grief was January 11, an hour or so before I figured out there was kiddo #2.
Basically I just feel like I'm a shell of myself walking around, not quite prepared to commit myself to anyone thing, numb to the world around me and the world inside my own body.
At least that's how I feel today.
Monday, April 8, 2013
365 + 2
It's been 365 days plus 2 since I gave birth to my precious Alfy. Last week was not exactly a pleasant week for me. I had a lot of anxiety about the impending anniversary/birthday of my son's death and birth. It's strange to think that his death came before his birth. It's not the natural order of life, but it was his life. Anyways, last week was rough. Lots of anxiety, lots of anger, lots of feeling of uneasiness.
Tony and I planned a balloon release for Saturday, April 6. It was at 2pm at the cemetery. Initially I think we sent out about 60 invitations, we had a total of about 80 people RSVP. What an overwhelming feeling. At time, I thought what the hell am I doing? I'm no good with people and small talk any more and here I was surrounding myself with tons of people. Part of me felt like it was a disaster waiting to happen. But it didn't turn out that way. The balloon release was beautiful. I think we let almost 100 balloons go at once. There were all kinds of people there, family, friends, my grief counselor, my nurse that I had at the end of my last day in the hospital. At Alfy's grave, I created a poster with his handprints and footprints so others could see just how tiny they were. We also put out a picture of Tony and I holding him. I think it made our loss more real for others, the picture of our family. For others, I assume it's easy not to actually think about the physical picture of us with our son, to think about the actual physical presence of Alfy, to think about the fact that I gave birth to this beautiful little boy who was already gone. I hope the picture showed them what it is that we are going through, that we buried our first born child, that we lost our son.
Anyways, after the balloon release we invited everyone over to our house before Mass at our church. It was dedicated to Alfy. It was beautiful. Even my OB showed up at the Mass. I was truly touched by the outpouring from everyone. Normally, those to whom the Mass is dedicated are only mentioned by name. Our priest mentioned Alfy by his name Alfy, and told the parish that he should have been celebrating his 1st birthday with us, but was instead celebrating with Jesus. It was very personable and meant so much to Tony and I.
Now it's Monday, I felt like I've needed to document the weekend somehow, but it was almost too hard earlier. I feel so far removed from my initial intense grief that it's hard to go back to it. But I want to, I miss it. I felt closer to Alfy with the intense grief. Now I feel farther from him, in my grief, in time, physically, in my memories. I miss it. I miss him, so very much. The missing still makes my heart hurt, makes a lump catch in my throat, brings me to my knees.
Alfy, I miss you so much. I hope you know how much I love and how much you've changed my life. I read an article over and over again called, "I Would Still Choose You..." and it describes how I feel about you perfectly. Someday, when you're a bit older, I'll bring it out to share with you. Until then, just know how much your mom and dad love you and wish we could hold you in our arms again, even if for a brief moment.
I love you,
Mom
Tony and I planned a balloon release for Saturday, April 6. It was at 2pm at the cemetery. Initially I think we sent out about 60 invitations, we had a total of about 80 people RSVP. What an overwhelming feeling. At time, I thought what the hell am I doing? I'm no good with people and small talk any more and here I was surrounding myself with tons of people. Part of me felt like it was a disaster waiting to happen. But it didn't turn out that way. The balloon release was beautiful. I think we let almost 100 balloons go at once. There were all kinds of people there, family, friends, my grief counselor, my nurse that I had at the end of my last day in the hospital. At Alfy's grave, I created a poster with his handprints and footprints so others could see just how tiny they were. We also put out a picture of Tony and I holding him. I think it made our loss more real for others, the picture of our family. For others, I assume it's easy not to actually think about the physical picture of us with our son, to think about the actual physical presence of Alfy, to think about the fact that I gave birth to this beautiful little boy who was already gone. I hope the picture showed them what it is that we are going through, that we buried our first born child, that we lost our son.
Anyways, after the balloon release we invited everyone over to our house before Mass at our church. It was dedicated to Alfy. It was beautiful. Even my OB showed up at the Mass. I was truly touched by the outpouring from everyone. Normally, those to whom the Mass is dedicated are only mentioned by name. Our priest mentioned Alfy by his name Alfy, and told the parish that he should have been celebrating his 1st birthday with us, but was instead celebrating with Jesus. It was very personable and meant so much to Tony and I.
Now it's Monday, I felt like I've needed to document the weekend somehow, but it was almost too hard earlier. I feel so far removed from my initial intense grief that it's hard to go back to it. But I want to, I miss it. I felt closer to Alfy with the intense grief. Now I feel farther from him, in my grief, in time, physically, in my memories. I miss it. I miss him, so very much. The missing still makes my heart hurt, makes a lump catch in my throat, brings me to my knees.
Alfy, I miss you so much. I hope you know how much I love and how much you've changed my life. I read an article over and over again called, "I Would Still Choose You..." and it describes how I feel about you perfectly. Someday, when you're a bit older, I'll bring it out to share with you. Until then, just know how much your mom and dad love you and wish we could hold you in our arms again, even if for a brief moment.
I love you,
Mom
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