So December has started out glorious around here. After about 28 of 30 days in November being pouring rain…the cold crisp sunshiney days are a balm to the soul.
As the Christmas songs fill the air, the spirits lift and the holiday spirit seeps in filling in the spaces left between all the other day to day stuff that we all deal with.
Here, that is work, school and no-sleep babies!
Oh yeah, and that BLOGGING stuff too!
But for me now..well, for us, there is a shadow edging always in at that glorious sunshine…the subject too uncomfortable for us to broach…this weekend marks two years since that horrid horrid day I learned that we had lost our baby.
Grief haunts this family. Death always feels closer than it really should. My husband still grieves terribly for his mom and dad. The pain of their absence, of things said and not said, of experiences not shared, is with him every day.
Losing little Scott after his mom was almost too much for him to bear.
For me it was a new grief…my own indescribable screaming scorching pain. I was awash in my agony of loss. For him, it must have been another wave, another assault, another attack on his soul.
It is times like those that even us unbelievers rage at unseen forces. Forces that must surely be to blame for such cruelty.
‘Why Me’ is shouted from the rooftops.
You really begin to wonder either what the hell you did in another life, or what you are doing so wrong with this life to deserve the constant teeth kicking.
But we have Tara.
She is not a replacement for Scott.
It hurts my brain to think that she would not even exist though if little Scott had survived.
So weird feelings of guilt tend to nag sometimes around the edges. Am I projecting some sort of survivor guilt on her?
It doesn’t help that the kids tend to tell the world about Scott.
The other day Adam introduced Tara to a school mate. ‘We had a brother, he says, ‘but he died.’ It is like a slap in the face everytime he does this.
But I am reluctant to talk to him about it. How do I tell him to not talk about him? How do I tell him to just talk about him with us? Scott isn’t a secret….but death and the death of unborn babies is a bit of a taboo and touchy thing…especially to poor unsuspecting strangers.
So this weekend, while we enjoy Christmas lights at Capilano Suspension Bridge, and I meet more fab blogging ladies, and laugh and do all those things that we do on weekends….part of me will be trying to keep that door shut to where the horror of those two days lies. But I know at night..when the moonlight is shining down at me as I lay awake with Tara….I can’t help BUT think about it all..to analyze it all, to think about the things I SHOULD have maybe done before. The blood tests, the check ups, the FEELINGS I should have had about something being terribly wrong…..that is what will keep me company for a while during this festive season just a little bit.
I’m sorry for your lost little one. I’ve been lucky not to have been through that pain but I (sadly) know a few women who’ve gone through that and I am familiar with their pain. I hope you have some peace even through your sadness.
I’m so sorry that you have to deal with this at this time of year…it’s always hardest trying to deal with grief when you are supposed to be happy and enjoying the festive season. I can’t imagine what it must be like having to deal with the death of a baby.
Perhaps the best thing to do is take a page out of your kids book and openly speak about it with people outside the family group. It’s probably the most difficult thing to do but it can only get easier in time.
Perhaps beautiful little Tara will bring you some joy (maybe she will sleep for you!)
I am so sorry for all you are going through. Your words are so vivid, so real, so powerful.
Kids just have no filter. My daughter likes to tell everyone that my dad died. Then people offer their condolences, assuming it was a recent occurrence. It wasn’t – he passed in 1993. I don’t know what to tell her, either, I don’t think that there really is much that you can say. It’s good that your kids remember Scott, and as they get older they will get a better handle on the appropriate social graces on their own.
I am thinking of you guys this weekend. And you, lying awake at night. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.
wow. that is gut wrenching. I am sorry you lost your child; it must be devastating. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I’m sure there are lots of families out there who shared this painful experience and are grateful to connect with others who understand what it’s like.