I have been re-reading my posts from the beginning of my journey, I am quite surprised at how far I’ve come in my grief, almost full circle, I no longer feel the intensity of the pain that was. I am not consumed and although that does not mean she is not or forever a part of me, that her death has not changed me forever, it is just a different journey now.
I read this post by Franchesca Cox and it really helped me understand my feelings, my need to want to be happy and be okay with being happy, my need to want to let go of my grief, to love and live and appreciate what is in front of me.
Here is a bit….
” I just didn’t want to lose her anymore than I already had, if that makes any sense at all. I’ve done a lot of different things since losing her to keep her memory alive. Most of those things I’ve shared at one time or another on this blog, and on facebook. I think it became an obsession. But it was the kind of obsession that was born from fear. I became so afraid of losing her memory, that I felt like I needed to keep doing something. But it has never been enough. Not once. At the end of the day, she’s still dead. She is still the one I had to say goodbye to, and no matter how many journals I donated, or how many memory boxes were sent out, or how many candles I burned, God never changed his mind and let this all become one really cruel nightmare. It’s always our reality that we lost our first child. It never stops being real, or true, or infinitely devastating.”…..
“There is something about having a rainbow baby, and then there is something about having the same gender rainbow baby. Maybe not to all, but to some, yes. To me… most definitely. When Evelyn was born I hardly ever talked about it, and if I did I glazed over it because it was too painful to admit but I fell into depression. I fought for four months with what a lot of doctors might write off as postpartum depression but to me, I knew it went much, much deeper (not to undermine postpartum, because I realize that that can be a very real, and serious matter). Mine went three years back, into that room where I held my first daughter as she took her last breathe… and none of it was peaceful. It was all horrific. Death was as real as the buttons my fingertips are pounding on that day. And he stole her from me. Every time I held Evelyn, my heart was this impossible mix, like oil and water, of the purest joy and rawest grief. I had been here before, but never with a living girl. Something was different with Evelyn. And I hate myself that I could not separate grief and joy those months of her life.”…
“I kept wondering when it would be enough. When would I stop letting death steal more of my life?”
“One night I can still remember the tears flowing… the breakthrough. I can’t even put it into words, but I knew that we’d be okay – her and I. That love that I was so afraid of giving her poured over her one night as I breastfed her, in months and months of held back tears. I watched her falling asleep, both of us soaked with tears, and love. All this bundle of joy. So much richness. So much sadness. So much possibility. But the change in my heart that took place that night, it’s led me here.”
To read the whole post follow the link below…
Having a Girl After Losing A Girl
So this is my goodbye, Four years after losing my beautiful little girl, I need to focus on living right now. My future posts will be about helping to deal with grief still but not about my personal journey.
Thank you for reading and walking with me.