Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Two Years' Raw


A’s second birthday was last week. The pain and rage were as raw and intense as they were two years ago. The agony was so overwhelming that the thought of killing myself crossed my mind (as it did those wretched first weeks). Not as a serious plan, but because there is no other way to escape such oppressive anguish. Be assured I am not going to harm myself, I couldn’t cause E or Dragon any more heartache.

Last year, I sent out birth-announcement-style cards for his first birthday asking our family and friends to perform acts of kindness in his honor. That, coupled with it being his first birthday, elicited much response. This year I did not send anything nor planned a get together of any sorts. We received a handful of texts and calls plus a few cards in the mail. A mere fraction of last year’s showing. It was pitiful.

I have never felt so alone in my grief.

If A was alive to celebrate his second birthday I am certain he would have been inundated with cards, calls, messages and gifts. I know many of our loved ones were thinking of him on his birthday so why the silence?

With his birthday came a heavy depression. I am apathetic towards work and daily responsibilities. It is a chore to drag myself out of bed each morning, yet I toss and turn trying to fall asleep at night. I’m moody and short-tempered. I’m emotional and distracted. I am utterly overwhelmed by the life obligations facing me. I want to hide beneath the bed covers for days. How I wish the world would give me permission to grieve like two years ago; afford me another bereavement period. Weeks of moping around the house ignoring phone calls, bills and responsibilities. No reason to leave the safety of my home.

But life doesn’t stop. And neither does this adventurous 9½-month-old dragon who crawls, clambers, climbs and explores every waking second. So I must tend to my living child. I must fulfill my scheduled work hours. I must keep up the house and feed the family. Because of my depression and grief, I cannot engage in life. However, I cannot fully commit to grieving and depression either, which leaves me in an uncomfortable, unresolved purgatory state.

8 comments:

  1. We just celebrated Eva's third birthday in heaven...and I totally get this post. It has been 2 years 2 months for me. But it still hits like a fucking ton of bricks.

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    1. Thank you Em. It's so validating to hear that because so many people in my world don't get it, especially with a living, vivacious baby around.

      I am struggling to endure each day, to take care of my family, to fulfill my work obligations. I cannot imagine how you do it with your full house and an entire brood depending on you.

      Missing Eva and her presence right smack dab in the middle of your busy home.

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  2. Sending love your way. I hope things feel a little lighter soon. xoxo

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    1. Thank you. Today I called in sick to take a mental health day. Dragon is at daycare so I have lots of alone time. I'd like to think one restful, mourn-filled day would help me feel better but I doubt it. I ponder taking an antidepressant but then think, of course I'm depressed, my son is dead. *sigh* I'm assuming this is just a rough patch.

      Congratulations on Bode's first birthday. I wish his older brother were here to join in the cake eating and present opening.

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  3. Missing A with you. Grieving while caring for living children is a tough, tough road to travel at times; there is no hiding away and there is always someone who needs you, and who needs you not to be so bloody sad all the time, when all you can be at times is so bloody sad. Really, an impossible situation. Sending love and hugs to help you through.

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    1. It is an impossible situation. Our lives are impossible situations. And you know it too well, having endured the loss of so many babies over a terribly long span of time, all the while being a mommy to your precocious E.

      Knowing there isn't any reprieve, that this is my reality, feels hopeless. I look to women like you who have survived longer than I nurturing a living child and ceaselessly mourning a dead child.

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  4. The kids get easier as they, hopefully, get bigger. Dragon will too. I'd love to see a picture of her. Em

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    1. Em - Shoot me an email so I have your email address and I can share some photos of our little Dragon. Griefland [dot] Greetings [at] Gmail [dot] com

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