Warning: This post is mostly venting and little substance.
Not posting for over a month has nothing to do with not having anything to say. I've had plenty to say, but no time to say it (or type it).
I again had the opportunity to go to a support group this week, only to find myself the only parent there. Despite that, the facilitator was kind enough to sit and talk with me. It was also nice that it wasn't just a one-way conversation; she asked me to share some of my experience in order to help other moms. It's so refreshing to actually be asked about Abigail and Bethany's short time with us instead of avoiding the reality that they ever existed.
Almost 2 months after their birthday, there are people very close to us that have still not taken the time to check in on us. I wonder if these people honestly think that they would be upsetting us by bringing up our girls or their birthday. Nothing could upset us as much as losing two of our children; our only daughters. And I can think of no greater insult than for our loss to be ignored. We are continually overwhelmed by the physical and emotional toll that grief takes over us, and I have no energy left to reach out.
Is it really our (mine and my husband's) jobs to tell others that they should be asking us (genuinely) how we are? Or if we need anything? Instead, we are avoided like lepers, or (possibly worse) engaged in superficial conversations about topics or people that have little to do with our lives (or our pain!). I actually have had certain individuals tell me how "blessed" I am or how "lucky" I am. Really? Like the good in our lives could somehow outweigh the loss? One cannot be measured against the other, because there is nothing fair or just about it. It is heartbreaking that anyone could possibly be so uncomfortable with another person's grief that they would insist on focusing on the positives in their lives instead of just letting a grieving parent work through their grief. There are some things in this world that I am certain of, and one of those things is that grief does not go away by ignoring the loss or focusing on what you still have. Grief is ugly, long, and slow, but must be worked through to be able to "move on".
We were given a copy of a beautiful book by the bereavement staff at Children's Hospital, entitled "Tear Soup". It addressed grief in a simple but honest way, and the main idea was that you must deal with your grief head-on; admit it, embrace it, and cry all your tears. My take on it is that tears not cried will be left inside and get moldy, bitter, and rotten, and then you'll have to get rid of moldy bitter rotten tears later on, which could be a pretty bad experience. The last time I experienced that, I went through a bout of depression that lasted several years and caused me great struggle. Having experienced that once before, I've been much more open and honest with my grief, and have embraced it. I'm quite sure that I'm the one that is normal, and people who think I need to just focus on the good in my life and move on from the pain are the ones who just don't get it.
We must be the scariest people alive. Friends who seem afraid to talk to us or see us, and family who seem afraid to have a real conversation with us. But we are not scary, mean, or angry people. We are simply broken and hurting.
In memory of my precious daughters, Abigail and Bethany
