For those who know me well, it's obvious I'm obsessed with quotes. And often times I find quotes that can say exactly what I am feeling, especially since it is hard to put it into words myself at times. As I scroll through quotes with the topic listed as "grief," I often find myself having difficulty relating wholeheartedly to those that talk about grief in a completely down or negative way. I can't really explain it, and while I have empathy for people who focus on the pain, depression, helplessness or true despair, I can't help but think that is not the whole story for me. Through the pain and sadness, I always somehow find my way back to appreciation, gratefulness and relief. Sometimes not quickly; but eventually, I get there. Maybe through avoidance; often through tears and reflection.
I've tried to understand this part of myself for awhile now; reflecting on how my brain and heart do this. Don't get me wrong, I am so extremely thankful that my soul is able to work this way, because being depressed, nonfunctional or lethargic is just not my style. I'm a cup half full type of person; I need something to keep me going. I need to move forward. And because of this, it is most crucial for me to intentionally stop and reflect on my journey. But as I grieve and support those that are stuck in this "fog" of grief, I often wonder why I was so lucky to bypass this place. Then I worry that maybe I haven't reached that part yet.
Whatever the case may be, it is what it is, and I'm trying to embrace it; just like every other chapter of this journey. I always tend to find the positive in things, or at least I search endlessly for something to hold onto. Positivity could be a defense mechanism, or a strategy that has simply worked for me. Maybe it has been a way for me to avoid getting stuck; avoid feeling lost. If I convince myself there is a positive, it eventually and magically appears. This part of my personality never been more challenged than the past few years, and more specifically, the past few months. How is there anything positive about knowing your child will be born chronically ill? What is positive about your child dying? Or any loved one dying? And is that so incredibly horrible for me to say there is positive in death? Should I hide my relief so others don't judge me? Sometimes I wonder if others think I am a horrible person because I am not hiding away in bed, crying myself to sleep all the time.
There have been many times throughout our journey with Conley, from the very beginning when he was in my belly, that I have heard others make comments about how I am too naive simply by misinterpreting my positivity; that I don't really understand the magnitude of his sickness, or that I am not ready to face what is to come. For example, when I was in the hospital for SEVEN WEEKS before Conley was born (it was only supposed to be three weeks), I had an ultrasound every day to make sure his heart was still beating. Everyday I woke up wondering if his heart was still beating - and yet, all I could think was that I was so thankful I was not on bed-rest. I could still walk downstairs to meet friends and family, or go outside to enjoy the sun. That seven works was so incredibly difficult, but feeling pity for myself would not make it better. So, I chose to be positive - and it is like I was judged for being too happy, or too able to cope. Instead of supporting and embracing a person that chooses not to dwell on negativity, I have been judged and had others question my sanity. People who have never been in my situation or had numerous talks about your child dying inside your stomach or in your arms felt it would be best to question how I managed the situation. It's ironic to think now that this was exactly how it happened - my child took his last breath in my arms. I felt his heartbeat fade away and yet all I could think in that moment is that he was finally free.
I often scroll through my Facebook feed and see others feeling overwhelmed with their children or worrying about certain unknown circumstances. It has been told to me that the biggest challenge for a mother who has lost a child is to not let my situation cloud my ability to see others' difficulties as real; completely and fully real to them. To not judge them for making comments about challenges with their children. Because while it may be "nothing" to me, it is a HUGE thing to them; completely real and scary. People have even suggested I avoid Facebook or groups that may bring up this feeling - and then I think, if you avoid it, how will you ever cope with it? For example, during a grief group, it was said that parents who lose a child often have a hard time empathizing with others who have lost a loved one because they feel like there is nothing worse than losing a child. While I can understand that completely, I am not fully accepting. I still find myself connecting with a range of people who have lost a loved one because we all experience the same themes, such as family strains, explosive emotion and sudden intense crying spells. Regardless of the loss, these are all a part of the recovery. We all have our own ways of dealing with life and it would be unfair for me to judge someone else's grieving just because the relationship of the deceased is different from mine. And seeing others overwhelmed and in pain breaks my heart all over again, because I know the struggle deep down. I know the despair and anguish; the wondering if it will ever end, or if there will ever be peace again. I understand the constant visual of death.
Sometimes I feel like I am immune to the grieving process explained by these quotes I read because so much of my time was spent witnessing and being forced to endure the unbearable and indescribable suffering of my child. I was depressed then. I lost hope, felt weak, cried uncontrollably. I didn't want anyone around me and I was good at faking it. My therapist called this "being a good sport." I'm pretty amazing at "being a good sport." But, truthfully, I was angry and resentful. I wanted to hide away and sink into a hole because I couldn't make the pain stop. I couldn't heal him or make his medical issues disappear. I could not control anything - the only thing I could control was to fully surrender to the idea that control is nonexistent in situations like these, and the harder I fought this reality, the more unhappy life became. So, honestly, what could be worse than that? As parents, we cringe at the thought of our baby getting a cold, or virus; falling down and hitting his head. I cringed at the idea of waiting another few months for a kidney transplant or getting an infection, and now I wish I was in that position again, instead of having to decide cremation or funeral. Lesson learned! I was so far past those simple ailments that I had become desensitized to tragedy. You spend your time trying to control the small things that you forget all about the potential for big things! I felt resentment and anger coupled with fear and sadness. And that shit is hard. For my child, there was no getting "better;" no 7 - 10 days of antibiotics and you'll be fine; no light at the end of the tunnel. There was no temporary condition or fix. This was and would have been his life.
Fast forward months later, and I have found a way to laugh again, to smile, and have hope in knowing that my son is more alive now than he was for so long. He is free of pain because of me. He can now live because he has died. So, I will stay naive in my positivity. Because it's working, as it has almost always worked. Sometimes, it's annoying, I know. It is interesting to me that I was judged for my positivity when my son was alive, for being naive, and now I have been praised and admired for my positivity. The ironic thing is most of the time I cannot turn it off. This is who I am! Which probably makes it more annoying :) For months, I had so little to be positive about, hope for, or find peace in, but now, in this grieving process, I am learning another gift I was given. A chance to use different lenses on the world and revisit a life that I can make worth every second. Spending time complaining about what should have been or what should be means I have ignored the opportunity in front of me; the opportunity to be grateful for what I do have. And for me, that means I have another child who needs me to be his mother; to be his role model for resiliency as well as surrender. Don't get me wrong, shit happens and I can bitch like the best. My child throws tantrums and rarely sleeps through the night, but somehow I find the positive or humor in the situation. Complaining gets me no where; a few steps temporarily. Positivity moves me forward, with great strides. And if I'm not moving forward, I am stuck, trapped and depressed. Where do you want to spend your time? Moving forward and trapped in resentment? The choice seems easy to me.
