Letting It All Out... Bear With Me

I'm just so tired of it. So damn tired of missing you. Tired of noticing you aren't here. Tired of wishing for a different reality. Too tired. Tired of feeling helpless about you. Tired of not getting to spend any time with you. Tired of imagining what it would be like if you were here. Tired to tears. Tired of tired.

You are always with me. Maybe people think that sounds romantic and they probably feel happy for me that I see things that way, but it's not romantic at all. It's burdensome. This heavy heart I carry daily, is slowly sinking me.  And it's exhausting to keep your memory constantly turning in my mind just so I don't lose it altogether.

And what kind of memories with you, are we left with anyways?!?!?  Just a few hours of you sleeping lifelessly in our arms. A tiny little darling trapped in a failed body, covered in death. These memories, as precious as they are to me, are only preserved with a smile because they are all I have. "At least", I tell myself, "you were in our arms at all".  At least I saw your tiny (not so tiny) feet and that they were just like your daddy's. That you had long legs like your mommy. That your hair was growing fast. That your little rosebud ears were so pefectly kissable. Your slender fingers begged for my touch, but they did not grip me back when I gently pressed against your palm. Your poor little face... oh, baby, your poor little face. Your eyes would not close all the way and they were so black and empty. I wish I had pictures to share. I wish we didn't have to ask for a picture with you that didn't actually show the death that was all over you. BUT, you are beautiful in my memories. More beautiful by the day.

I haven't cried for you in a little while, and I hoped I had kicked that habit. But tonight, I'm just a shell of my usual self, drowning in tears, and more broken than ever. It feels like the end of me.

My baby is dead. There is no hope in that. She always will be, and it will never change. As awful as that is to write, it's even harder to live. My family is forever minus one in the most unnatural of ways.

My thoughts are all jumbled up. I can't think straight no matter how hard I try. I can't remember shit from day-to-day. I can't put a decent paragraph together without forgetting what I was talking about in the first place. I'm stuck in a time warp, bouncing back and forth between then and now.

How is the rest of my life supposed to be? Please let it get better. Please don't leave me here like this. Please let something wonderful happen to take my mind off how miserable this part has been. Even if just for a little while. I can only hold on bravely for so long, and I'm afraid the sun won't come back out and shine before I'm completely broken in half.

Did I tell you how tired I am of missing you?

-Mom

I Just Have To Say...

When it comes to Carly, there are some words that I just can't seem to speak. It is almost physcially impossible to force them through my lips. The thought is just too deep, too sacred, and it hurts too much, and they do not go away. Consequently, thoughts can rattle around in my head for a long time until I work up the courage to say them. That's a part of why I keep this blog. It gets some of those thoughts out and I can move on.

Does wanyone else know what I mean, here?

Anyways, it's been about a week, and I can't stop saying the same thing over and over in my mind. "I just want my baby". Sometimes I say I want our baby, and sometimes I feel like I just want any baby... but it's Carly I miss and Carly that I want. I just want Carly.

There. I said it.

Sometimes it's enough to unleash these thoughts in cyberworld. Sometimes it's not enough and I still wrestle with them until I give in and mumble something to whoever is within earshot at the moment. That's where my wonderful husband, friends, and family (especially my mother) pick up the slack. Sometimes they have no idea how helpful they are in listening to me talk about her, and my grief. It's not like I just open up the discussion directly with what's on my mind. It takes a good while of beating around the bush until I can finally get there and say what I NEED to say. Anyways, they are a blessing to me for hanging in there and listening. I especially adore my friend that periodically mentions Carly without me having to bring it up... I just love her for doing that!

A New Look At Old Words

Dare I say I'm starting to get a grip on this grief thing? With wobbly knees, and holding my breath, I jump off the ledge and head straight for my new normal. Remind me to blink when you see me next time!

Click here for A New Look At Old Words.
-Tiffany

What is it?

What is grief anyways? Does what I'm feeling really fit that description? In fact, how can such a large range of emotions, at randomly varied depths, be effectively conveyed in such a tiny little word? 

Let me explain what it's like to lose our baby and not know why. It's not just a sadness, it's more like the feeling that your soul has left your body and you are now as empty as a glove without a hand in it. It's not just pain, it's the emotional equivalant of a heart attack while you're having a root canal with no novacaine. It's not just anger, it's a madness that is so far beyond your own comprehension that while you feel compelled to throw, and hopefully destroy, everything in your immediate surroundings, you do nothing.

These emotions have you hijacked.You are taken to the end of the road and left stranded. If you keep looking in the same direction, there is only more nothingness to behold. You turn and look towards the direction you surely must have come from, and realize that you have to find your own way back. If you're lucky, you have someone there with you, at the same end of the road, and trying to get back to the same place you are. There's a 20% chance you will both make it, which, means an 80% chance only one of you will ever arrive.  You see other travellers on a similar journey, but they are too distant to call out to, and their destination is not the same. They cannot help you except that their presence gives you reassurance that you are not the first to have to do this, and it can be done.

You ask yourself, and each other, "Where are we?" to which neither really knows the answer. You only know the vehicle that brought you there. Where are we supposed to be and where to we want to be? Which way do we go to get there? How far is it, and what time should we expect to arrive? More questions means more ignorance revealed. You are already tired from the journey that led you here in the first place... and now you're supposed to have enough energy to get back? And where is "back" anyway? Do I even want to go there? Do I have to, or can I stay here? How long can I stay here? You see, this is the last place where our lives were intertwined with Carly's, and moving from this spot is almost an umanageable task. 

This is the grief that is losing your child. It is a journey. Probably a never-ending journey. A journey that will never take you back to the place you were before. You may be able to choose the path to some degree, but you do not get to pick the obstacles, and so you're path may be ever-changing. You can work together, or you can go it alone. You can try to pass the time while you travel with a few jokes and smiles, or you can just keep reminding yourself of how miserable this journey is in the first place. Maybe it's ok to do a little of both.