They say hope floats, well not in this boat it doesn't. It actually punctures holes in what life raft I have and helps it to sink! My optimism was good this morning. I'm two months today without William. My optimism is failing me and pesimism is setting in.
I woke up with an erie sense of calm about me. No true grief today. No real acceptance either just blank. Until lunch time, I called to check on work tomorrow and found out that one of my friends who had been pregnant with twins and lost one twin at 14 weeks has now as of yesterday at 22 weeks lost the other. I don't feel my own grief today. I feel grief for her and her family and I am tired of the sinking boat. The more people we put on it the faster it seems to sink. I sent my thoughts to her via others but I cannot right now find it in me to call and check in. I will later in the week.
So, I am looking to my blog buddies for some optimism and some hope. I need it to float today, I really am not ready to sink. I need to catch my breath and I need to feel some peace instead of the nagging feeling that the Titanic we are all on is sinking fast! What I really need is a good laugh and a couple bottles of wine. So, if you can offer HOPE that doesn't puncture holes, optimism that is true, a laugh or a bottle of wine please respond!
(This is me reaching out, instead of in!)
7 comments:
Oh honey, I know this feeling. For a while, you might just feel sort of numb. It happened to me right around this time too. Less grief, but not more hope or happiness.
Either way, it is totally normal.
I am so sorry for your friend's loss as well. Please, whenever you feel up to talking to her, tell her that she is in the thoughts and prayers of lots of loss moms...
What a totally shit club to belong to, huh?
I have been thinking about you. I more or less feel the same way- nothing. It's a weird feeling at this 2 month mark. Have a drink (or two). Whatever makes you feel better. It's called self preservation!
I'm sorry, Amy; sorry that the 2 month mark has made it's appearance. As for your friend, you will be a gift to her, when you get up the courage/nerve/energy to contact her. I cannot tell you how good it feels to talk to my IRL deadbaby friend. Surely, you would never have wished this experience on her, but it's happened; you have so much to offer her.
Thinking of you...
Amy,
Sometimes the only strength I have is knowing that you, and the others, are here. Maybe the boat needs to sink and what we are, together, is the life raft. That one thing that can save you when all else is gone.
Please hang in there, drink a bottle of wine, feel the emotions, but keep going. The pain is devastating but you have to keep going. And, I am so sorry for your friend's loss.
I'm thinking of you and sending you as many uplifting thoughts I can.
Jen
I wish I could offer you some tangible hope but even after 5 months I still struggle. Jennifer is right sometimes the boat just has to sink but we will all be here to pull you in the life raft.
I'm so sorry to read about your friend. My IRL deadbabymom is a real comfort to me. I don't see her that often but when I do it's like coming up for air. When you're ready to make contact you will. It's very difficult to deal with other peoples grief when everything is so raw.
I have a bottle of wine over here with your name on it if your supplies run low.
Amy, I'm so sorry. When I'm desperate for a laugh, I go see comedy and forget about my real life for an hour or two. You'll figure out how to navigate this in a way that works for you. I'm sorry you're forced to, though.
Tonight, I'm on the last glass of a bottle of Kendall Jackson Merlot. I don't even like Merlot. *sigh*
Did you ever read those ubiquitous Harry Potter books. I hated the last one. It was full of a lot of 'love conquers all'.
So I don't know if its the wine or not but tonight I'm starting to find an understanding. Love. God D@mn F*cking Love. Excuse my language please.
Love. Love is what makes it okay. Its just like that Frank Sinatra song You don't live until you've loved and been loved.
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