A peek into the ebbs and flows of child loss

Monday - March 2, 2015: 5:30pm

I think it's going to be a tough month.  I'm feeling tired, though I blame Remicade.  It seems this time, the fatigue didn't hit me until Sunday as opposed to the night of my infusion which was Wednesday.  I'm feeling emotional.  I've shed some tears already this month.  What triggered it? Simple memories.  Reminders of what should be and what isn't.

I've been warned that for some, the second year is tougher. I am less than two weeks away from that horrible day which took my son away.  My emotions feel volatile.  I feel awfully vulnerable.  Right now, I want to crawl under a rock and just stay there for a month.

Fortunately for my conscience and for my heart, I have a support group meeting tonight.  I hope that the experience, wisdom and understanding of others who have lived through this milestone will guide me through it.  A milestone I never asked for, and never wanted.

I feel like I've been on a constant healing wave for months now.  The holidays were hard, but they were overall better than I expected.  Preston's birthday... while gut-wretchedly bittersweet, was really a wonderful day.  I saw the outpouring of love and happiness his life created for others.  I was so happy in my own sadness that day.  I was so proud of my son.  I'm proud of him every day really, but it's so hard to quantify because I can't compare it with the normal achievements a little boy should be accomplishing.

Today, it feels like I just got hit by a tidal wave, and it shoved me onto the shore of a deserted isle.  Do I feel alone? No.  I see so many others who are part of the community no one ever wants to be a part of - the community of bereaved parents.  The sea of anniversaries, be it that of a birthday, a due date or an angelversary, is taking me over the edge.  So many others like me, out there, suffering.  Suffering through the unimaginable.  Agonizing over the why. Oh the why... I could write for days about "why".


Monday - March 2, 10:00pm

Interestingly enough the "subject" of our meeting tonight was about grief and the acceptance of grief.  Intellectual acceptance versus emotional acceptance.  The journey of a bereaved parent is filled with power struggles.  The most predominant one, at least for me, the mind versus the heart.

My mind knows what the heart won't accept.  My heart feels what my mind doesn't understand.  It's enough to drive a person crazy.  Acceptance can have several connotations.  To some it can mean moving forward, while to others it means forgetting.  Acceptance can mean peace.

Tonight I talked about how I struggle with "acceptance".  After my miscarriage and learning how sick I was in 2012, I made peace with losing my baby.  With Preston, I can't see myself ever being there.  I'm not delusional.  I know my son is no longer on Earth.  My mind understands.  It doesn't mean my mind accepts it.  Perhaps it's the only place where my mind and my heart aren't struggling over who's "right".

These past couple days have shown me that the ebbs and flows of grief are still ever so present.  Even though my mind tells me that I've been through tough days before, you'll get through tough days again, my heart tells me that it doesn't want to right now.

As I was driving home tonight, lyrics from different songs stuck with me.

"I don't wanna waste another day, keeping it inside, it's killing me.  Cause all I ever wanted comes right down to you.  I wish that I could find the words to say (...)  I'm inconsolable."

"I don't wanna wait another minute to hear something that I already know."

"The pain is all I want to feel."

I'm not trying to say that I often keep my feelings inside.  I truly don't.  I mean, I write about the way I feel almost daily.  But these lyrics speak the truth to me.  Everything I ever wanted, always comes right back to Preston.  I think about him every day and my heart has a hole in it.  That hole, with time, will slowly fill up, but it will never be whole again.

Waking up every day, my mind knows that my little boy is no longer here.  Yet, every day, I wake up and feel like I'm learning it all over again.  It's a constant smack in the face.  I know... but because my heart aches for my son, it's something I continually have to be "told".  There are days, where I just wish I didn't know... or wish I already knew, even though I already know.  Sounds like a line out of friends: "They don't know that we know that they know".  My brain is like Monica and Chandler, while my heart is like Rachel and Phoebe.. or vice-versa.

What I felt more intensely though was "the pain is all I want to feel".  During the month of February, I read a countless number of quotes.  I want to say I remember reading something along these lines: "Grief is the price we pay for love".  The pain I feel in my heart, is a testament of my love for Preston.  And sometimes, I need to feel that painful agony that is deep rooted grief.  Much like sometimes, I need to feel true happiness when remembering special moments we had.

What will the next days bring? I do not know that answer.  Deep grief? Comfort?  Smiles?  Tears?  More than likely, it will be a combination of it all, much like today was.  And there you have it, a sneak peek into my mind... from tragically upset to peaceful understanding in the span of hours.