Most of the time, I don't argue about it anymore. I don't take the time to try and convince. I just let them think what they want: That I should be over it, that time will make it go away, that it's ok because I had another baby, that it doesn't really matter because Max was only nine months. Somehow, they can understand the great joy of having a baby - but they can't understand the great grief of losing one.
As time has worn on, I find that I have shut off more and more. I don't care what anyone thinks about me anymore and I try not to share my story as much as I would like. I don't want anyone to fix me. I don't want anyone to point out the bright side. I just don't even want to talk about it most of the time. It's all mine. This love, this grief, this strange life - belongs to me.
I am sitting here and I can't stop crying because it's all bottled up inside me and I have nowhere but here (this blog) to let it out. I am expected to keep it to myself - so I mostly do. Wouldn't it be nice if we someday lived in a world where grievers could come out of the closet? Where their experience was as legitimate as the experiences of happy people? I've met a LOT of people in pain over these two and half years and I believe that we deserve a voice. I hope that I see a day when we have one that can be heard by "regular folk".
In the meantime, I've learned my lesson the hard way. I shut up and smile, crack occasional jokes, tell stories about pleasant stuff. I'm hardening to the outside world. I'm not letting them in. I am not sure that they deserve to be in here anyway.
6 comments
I am living your words..
Tara - I am so so sorry for the loss of your two boys. How cruel and horrific. I'm sure there are very few people willing to "go there". How painful that must be - as if the loss wasn't painful enough. I'm just so terribly sorry.
I m waiting for the day. Maybe we can fight for our "Grief Day" these days there is a day for everything. And I'm crying along with you.
It's amazing how people can understand the great joy of having a baby but can't understand the great grief of losing one. Truer words have never been spoken.
Dear Abby.
I hope and pray that in time you know peace. I don't know when that will be or what that will look like. I believe it will happen though. Not that you will forget Maxie. Not that the pain will ever go away. Just that you will have peace and know it won't always hurt so damn badly!
On April 12th of this year my mommy will be 46 years out from the death of her son. I promise you it will get better. My family knows joy and happiness and it has lived hand and hand with the grief over my brother's death,
Don't bottle it up. Maxie's short little life had value and his story deserves to be told. I am so sorry you hurt so badly!
Love you and what you share! Whenever I come and check in, I am always grateful for what you are willing to share with the world. I wish people would just take a minute to just listen-up because you have a lot of good to say that can help us all be better human beings. Death touches us all, I just don't understand how/why some people seem to feel that they are exempt from this inevitable part of our human experience. I'd think they'd at least try to understand your loss, and cherish the bits of information you are willing to offer about how profound, personal loss really looks on a day to day, month to month, year to year basis. Your voice is so valuable! Thank you for persevering despite continued disappointment and heartache.
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