Searching 4 Freedom
Hello
In 2006 I got a little angel tattoo with the word "freedom." At that time it signified acknowledging my father's death and also embracing pain as a necessary part of life, which nevertheless stops eventually as we break free and heal. This year unfortunately it acquires a new meaning, having to say goodbye to our angel baby.
I've started this blog as a way to heal, express my self without feeling like I'm burdening others/repeating myself, trying to find reason and solace, but also hoping that if anyone ever comes across it they can perhaps find some useful reflections and maybe feel better after a blog post or two.
This year I will be stronger, braver and kinder - not to others but to myself. This year I'll be unstoppable.
Having experienced such pain - in my soul and body, has made me stronger and I am grateful to our little angel baby for everything it has taught us.
Why?
I think once the initial shock subdues you sometimes catch yourself questioning "why?"
There is no definite answer. "Unfortunately these things happen." "Life can be so unfair." People will try to offer words of wisdom, sweet words to make you feel better and always remind you "This is not your fault."
I remember reading so many blog posts and information websites about how frequent miscarriages can be during the first trimester. You never think you'll be part of the statistics and then it happens.
It's a feeling of being slapped in the face, thrown to the ground and having something valuable taken from you. All you can do is endure, pray and cherish the time you had.
I'm finding the "why" a bit easier to cope with. It's the everyday cues and reminders that hurt the most. Waking up and feeling this sense of emptiness. A void. Holding your tummy and feeling different, incomplete. Reliving different moments.
I'm establishing new routines. New tunes, new colours and new plans. I keep on reminding myself this is a lesson about becoming a good parent. Perhaps a test.
"Why", "How", "When" - none of these matter in the end.
I will take my time in dealing with this. Although I have a feeling the pain will soon get better and that it will be sooner than I think.
"This is not your fault"
One of the things I heard a lot when I first told people was that "this was not my fault."
I know that, they are right. I could not have done anything to prevent this. Believe me if I could, I would have done so.
Instead, I started thinking whether there is something wrong with me. Questions like "Will this happen again?" or "Is there an underlying cause?"still wander in my mind. I try to shut them down one by one but sometimes they sneak in and catch me off guard.
I think this will be the biggest challenge for me and as my loved star-sister reminds me it is a natural response when experiencing such loss. However, there is no point in focusing on the guilt.
What I need to focus on now is how to learn to be kinder to myself. Learn how to allow myself to experience pain, accept the sense of loss, the anger and the fear without guilt. But not forever. This is not the end, this is an experience. An in between journey that will lead to something brighter.
A wise loved one told me to focus on the "positive bad". On the good moments that will arrive after the pain and I believe her. I need to prepare myself so when that bright moment arrives I'll be ready and open to embrace life once again.
3 important lessons
Painful experiences often tend to reveal something about ourselves or about life in general. Through this experience we've learned three important lessons.
1) We are lucky to have so many people who genuinely and deeply love us. Over the past few days we've been enveloped by such love and warmth by our families and friends. Their love and ongoing support continues to move us on a daily basis.
2) We've realised how precious our love and relationship is. I'm amazed by the fact that something so so very painful has brought us even closer. It's us against the world, forever.
3) How much we want to start a family as a celebration and extension of our love. Whenever and however this happens, we will be ready to give everything.
Fly on
I guess everyone processes loss differently.
For me, this is not goodbye. Instead of losing, I'm choosing freeing.
I have an image of this little bright soul traveling free. Free, but not alone. I am still it's mum and I will always be.
You will always be our first baby. An angel baby that we did not have enough time with, but nonetheless we were privileged to welcome even for a little while.
You've shared your light and love with us. We've offered you our love and dreams. Thank you.
We miss you.
Let it go
Yesterday marked one week since our sudden goodbye.
I am surprised by how much last week's sense of overwhelming pain has calmed down already.
I've also booked my tickets to fly home. I am secretly excited. Sometimes you just need some time with your mum. Some time to cry, hide in her hug and feel like you don't always need to put on a brave face and 'act your age.'
I've decided that I need to spend time with people that I love, do something crazy with my hair and try to have fun. It is not about running away but instead realising that I deserve to be sympathetic to myself.
My partner compared my fiery hair idea to the image of a phoenix that is being reborn through the ashes. I love this metaphor. In a sense we did see our hopes of a particular version of reality crash and burn, nevertheless through these ashes there is life. There is continuity and there is the possibility of something even more wonderful and glorious.
I'm dreaming of the sea today. Water to wash away some thoughts and pebbles to throw away this sense of weight, one by one.
Hello (str)anger
Stage 3 of the grieving process: Anger
Anger about what happened but equally, anger about trying to once again cover up my pain and succumb to the 'superhero image' I've masterfully constructed over the years.
It's been almost six weeks since we've had to say goodbye. Six weeks today. For the past week I've been experiencing a new emotion and a rather unfamiliar one for me, anger.
I feel as if a cry of "why" is locked inside my throat. I can only describe this feeling of explosive outburst as water escaping through a wall's cracks. Initially it slides timidly and as it gradually erodes the hard surface, the water takes over with an inexorable force that cannot be contained.
The initial shock and familiar response of 'elegantly' dealing with this has passed and the raw natural force of pain is taking over. I feel angry that I've cared so much about what others will think or say about me. I'm mostly angry as I told myself this experience should be an opportunity to make some changes. Stop worrying about others and focus on what I think/feel/need. What do I feel?
I feel betrayed. I feel tricked. I feel hopeful but I am also terrified. I feel impatient. I feel angry. I feel I have the right to feel angry (for now) and that for me, is a win.
I think it's time to demolish my tower of pebbles; one does not necessarily need to go on top of the other. We grow up with this notion of life paths, step by step, milestone after milestone, but sometimes a big wave might wash over and erase your life's design giving you the option to change, adapt and revise.
My mom always tells me about how God laughs when we make plans. Perhaps it is not about not planning per se. We need dreams to guide us, intentions and projections to lead us. Perhaps it is about accepting that everything in life will happen the way it has to happen. Just because that's how life is. There's no point in asking 'why' as no one can offer an adequate explanation. We learn to integrate experiences in our life-story and this way they acquire meaning.
I catch myself trying to guess the next stage or trying to plan when that might happen. I think that for me the big lesson will be to stop preparing and instead focus on the now. Be mindful, be present, be vulnerable and give over this false sense of control. I'm terrified. I feel however that this is the only way forward.
Embrace uncertainty.