Friday, December 30, 2011
So even though I'm kind of in a place of nonsharing, I must share this. Staying busy HELPS me with my grief. It DISTRACTS me. It gets me OUT OF MY HEAD, out of my nasty thoughts and emotions, out of my pity party. You know what I've come to notice over the past year? If I want to do something with friends, 90% it is up to ME to get things going, invite people to do something, etc. I have always been THAT person - one who likes to get people together for parties big and little, one who likes to catch up with a friend over lunch. After our loss, I just want to say, WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL OF MY FRIENDS? I feel comfortable saying that here because by and large my "friends" do not know about this blog. But seriously, WTF. Do I have "dead baby plague"? Further, I want to say, on behalf of myself and everyone else who is facing isolation from friends who put little to no effort into the relationship, do people REALLY expect grieving parents to be the ones to put effort into maintaining relationships?!?!? I am not saying that losing a child means you get to just throw your hands up and let everyone else do the work in maintaining a friendship, but seriously, you can NOT expect much from people who are facing the most horrible thing imaginable in their lives. I, us, ALL of us out here, deserve to have friends who step up to the plate and make things happen. We shouldn't have to lose our friends on top of our babies, unless we are being complete jerks and ignoring everyone's calls for months on end and unable to emerge from our hermit-like state. Today I had a coffee date with a friend, one who actually puts effort into seeing me and having a real conversation with me, which was nice. I have a few friends like this, thankfully. But seriously. People know I teach, and they know I am on break for two weeks, and yet I can count on one hand how many people have actually contacted me to make concrete plans to get together. Two coffee dates, one lunch date, and one NYE party invitation. I am grateful for those four people and the effort they put forth. I really am. But there is WAY too much down time around here. (It doesn't help that my husband could care less about having a social life and puts NO effort into inviting people over or getting out of the house.) What really burns my butt is that I have had friends completely disregard my twins' birthday and subsequent party. And I mean, completely. As in they didn't RSVP no (it was regrets only) so we expected them, then they didn't show up, and then they never told me why after the fact. (Please tell me if you think I'm over-reacting!) I find that a really hard pill to swallow, considering anyone who knows me knows how difficult and complicated their birthday would be for me and how much I NEED the support of my friends and family. I know that the world doesn't revolve around me (clearly, and thankfully), and that everyone has their own personal struggles and even tragedies, but that is just ONE TIME the entire year that I think really defines for me who is a friend and who isn't. Even people who weren't included in their birthday party gave me cards, little gifts in memory of Elias, or just a kind word or hug letting me know they're thinking of me during this complicated time of joy and sorrow. I am left feeling a little abandoned and much confused about those who didn't. You know what's messed up? I'm kinda happy about this post, because it's the first time since my son dying that I've been able to get kinda fired up about something like this. That's progress in a way, right? I mean this is progress compared to, "I don't care what anyone does ever. Nothing matters. My son is dead, end of story." I am actually capable of getting fired up about people being assbags. I know people have their own lives, and I'm happy for that, but if they made little to no effort to be of any support to me this year or ever get me out of this house or out of my head for a while??? Well, let's just say I'm hearing what they are saying loud and clear without their having said a word. Which is pretty much the whole point. Silence speaks volumes, doesn't it?
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
I don’t know why but right now it’s just becoming more and more difficult to share anything here. I know that not many people “in real life” even know about my blog, but it IS public. I don’t want to go private at this point. But some days it just hits me that this is where I share some extremely personal thoughts, and I just don’t know if that’s okay or not. Grief is a private thing, right? So why did I even create this blog? I’m asking myself these questions and not coming up with answers. I feel selfish in that I write more here about myself than I write here about my son. It makes me sad that I don’t know more about him. It leaves me feeling so heartbroken and empty that I don’t know what he would have been like or who he would have turned out to be. (And while I'm thinking of it, if you'll allow this tangent, let me just say this. I can’t stand it when people say, “Oh it must be SO difficult to look at your daughter and think about how your son would be doing the exact same thing had he lived.”…and yes, this is actually something I have heard literally and several variations of it…How freaking idiotic can people be? I don’t think there’s a set of twins out there who do the exact same thing 24/7; in fact, I’m pretty sure that would be impossible…And just because they were born on the same day doesn’t mean they would have hit the same milestones at the same time…They were over a pound apart weight-wise at birth, just as one example…OH and they were also different genders! And we can’t forget the tiny little fact that they were two completely separate individual human beings, different DNA and all that, can we? Apparently, some people DO forget. Two.separate.eggs.two.separate.sperm. I think I should start busting out diagrams for people when they piss me off.) So back to my question, which is by writing here am I really honoring my son’s memory? It sure doesn’t feel like it. I don’t feel like I am ever doing right by him, just as I rarely ever feel I am doing right by my daughter. A friend and coworker the other day described me as living life with “an impossible situation”. It’s an understatement, sure, but Truth. Nothing I ever do feels right. Grieving while I have a beautiful daughter snoozing in her crib upstairs seems horrible. Enjoying life while I have a son who never got to breathe a breath seems horrible. Maybe I should just try to be numb all the time and not feel anything so I can stop feeling so freaking guilty about whatever I’m feeling. But that would require drugs, and I’m not all about those. So that’s it. I’m in a place of nonsharing, and it really sucks. I feel I am betraying Elias by not writing here enough. More guilt. *sigh* I'm also dealing with not knowing where I stand with almost everyone in my life. I see why the statistics are not in favor of couples staying married after a loss. I see why Those Who Have Lost Before speak of losing friends and family after a loss. Early out, I thought NO way, that won't happen to me. Well, a year out, it's happening, some of it at least. I just don't know who I can trust or lean on anymore. I feel VERY judged to still be so sad and be over a year out, like there's an expiration date on my grief, and we're past the point where it's acceptable. Like at some point you are seen as "the crazy lady with the dead baby" instead of a human being with a right to grieve, a person who has been thrust into an impossible situation every minute of every day for the rest of her life.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Soon I will update you on what ONE YEAR post-loss feels like. That was yesterday for us. Today we are preparing for our daughter's birthday bash for tomorrow. I will say this - I'm feeling pulled apart by the seams - grieving my son who I wish had turned one year old yesterday while celebrating my daughter who DID turn a year old. I put together a Facebook event and was overwhelmed by the support of both people in AND out of the loss community. It helps, in my opinion, to allow them to have their own separate days (as much as possible). Grieving and partying at the same time don't really jive, do they? *sigh* I will write a "one year" post soon.