You know how you feel when someone punches you in the stomach and you lose your breath for a few minutes? That is how I’ve felt about writing lately. As in for over six months. Traumatic experiences tend to mark you in some way and can take the wind out of your sails. Well, it has left me literally speechless.
I’ve been writing for this blog for two years now. I love that moms from all backgrounds can share their stories and experiences, even sometimes regarding the same topic. There’s always something interesting and relatable. But lately, I’ve only been able to produce the monthly event guides, which are just the facts and don’t tell you anything about me at all.
Last September, I was able to muster up a blog post summarizing how we lost our baby #3 halfway through pregnancy due to preterm labor. But even after that, it was still hard to write about anything else. After getting pregnant again very quickly, we found out in March that baby #4, another boy, had no heartbeat at 15 weeks. I’ve managed to continue along fairly well in all areas of my life, except for the area of writing. I haven’t been able to move past it. It’s as if nothing else has been that important in comparison with what I had just experienced, and maybe that’s true. Maybe I don’t want to move past them; maybe I feel like I can’t write about anything “fun” anymore. Maybe I haven’t wanted to get too personal and needed to hide for a bit. I think all of those reactions are fine and part of the grief process, but I don’t want to stay there. Even though it has changed me, I am made of more than just those experiences, and I want you to know that. I’m telling myself that too.
Mixed into this daily routine of life are sporadic moments when the grief is overwhelming, and I suppose that will never quite go away. So there will be more posts about that, but I need to be able to write about my child’s humorous potty-training stories or our journey to Pre-K also. I’m giving myself permission to keep going, to keep writing. I have to. Life around me is happening past the loss, and my perspective will forever be affected; I want to be willing to share that part as well. I’ve always heard that there are people on the other side of our pain. Those who need to hear they can survive it. Now that I know that I can, I hope you find that you can too.
Thank you for sharing. I too lost my sweet twin girls at 16 weeks in Feb. of 2017. We got pregnant again in June 2017 and welcomed a sweet baby boy this pas Feb (ironically only a few days after the anniversary of when we lost the girls). While I love my son to pieces and wouldn’t trade him for the world, the grief doesn’t stop. I feel conflicted all of the time when I find myself wondering what my life would be like with my twin girls and their older brother (I would have had 3 kids under the age of two for several months)…and then I think if I hadn’t had lost them I wouldn’t have my other son. I don’t want to say its a guilty feeling but just a constant conflict of what “what could have/should have been” with what is. I think its totally normal and healthy to mourn and grieve the what should have/could have been, they were really children, they were part of us, we had hopes and dreams for them like we do our other kids, but we can’t stay there because the “what is” with our other kids and our families need us to be present with them and live for the “now” with them. Lots of hugs and love from a fellow grieving mom.
Thanks for the love, Karen. I’m sorry for your loss as well.