I can’t figure out how to begin a blog post talking about something as heartbreaking and defining as the loss of an infant or child but I have been asked to share some thoughts as I went through this 2 years ago and it being National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
I have decided the only way to get what’s on my mind and my heart out to you is to write this as a letter. So, here it goes…
My Dear Friend,
I am so sorry to hear of the heartbreaking loss you have suffered, but I want you to know that you are not alone. This is such a silent and lonely road to travel, but we NEED to talk about it more.
We NEED to express how we feel.
We NEED to be loved so tightly by others around us at this time.
We NEED to be heard when we want to be heard.
We NEED to stand together and be there for each other.
We NEED to not feel as if something is wrong with us or we caused this.
We NEED others to know this happens and there is nothing wrong with them.
>>We are right where we’re supposed to be at this moment. As ugly, painful, tear-filled, question filled, downright terrible, gut-wrenching place that it is.<<
I was in a work meeting a week ago, when I was asked if I would be willing to write a blog post in support of National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
Typically I am totally up for talking about this because it seems the loss of our little ones is so taboo that half the time we don’t even know when a friend or loved one suffers through this.
But this time was different.
It triggered me. It triggered me in a way that was different from all of the range of emotions I felt 2 years ago and put me in a funk for a few days. I was actually frustrated at myself for “allowing” myself to get in a funk, but guess what?
It is okay!
I can still grieve that sweet babe of mine. I can forget about that sweet babe of mine and have happy and fun-filled days. I can think sweetly about that sweet babe for a few moments and then be off with my other kids or “living my life.”
ALL of this is okay! There is no playbook for how we have to act and feel. There is no day to day screenplay we must follow.
Every day is different. Every moment is different. Every person is different. And that is okay.
>>But, now back to you my friend: This is hard!<<
This just plain sucks and I am so sorry. I wish I could reach out and hug you right now (if you are wanting a hug at the moment). There were many moments when I didn’t want a hug because I knew I would burst into tears.
But it was probably in those moments that I just needed someone to grab me tight, against my will, and just let me break completely down and sob those ugly, vulnerable tears and just feel. And in that same moment, feel loved, accepted and okay to be where I was.
But you won’t find many friends or loved ones who will do this. Do you know why? It is because they don’t know what to do for you.
They don’t know what you need. They don’t want to do something wrong. And guess what? They are also probably hurting deep inside as well. If not for the loss of your sweet little one, they are hurting for you.
My friend, again, I wish I could hug you. I wish I could cry with you. I wish I could listen to you. I get it. I hate it.
And yet, at times, it is a cherished moment for me, because I can reach out to someone else who is in that same place I was 2 years ago. I can be the temporary wall that helps hold them up even if for a little while.
I see you. I hear you. I stand arm in arm with you.
>>You are not alone. You don’t have to be silent. It is okay to feel exactly how you feel.<<
I believe I now have my own special angel to watch over me and that brings me comfort.
Find what brings you comfort and that is personal to you.
You can talk about it. You can cry about it. You can sit and not want to think about it. You can forget about it. You can smile. You can laugh. You can continue on. You can scream about it. You can be you, as you are right now.
I stand with you. I am sending you my biggest virtual hug right now on national pregnancy and infant loss awareness day my friend.
You are loved.