People want to hear that i am doing great. That i'm all better.
Or they avoid asking me how i am doing because they don't want to hear how i am really feeling.
Bogus either which way you look at it.
Isolating.
and as time goes on it's becoming more so.
The road trip here to florida was not really the best.
There was a lot of built up anxiety and sadness that once we hit the road poured out, on and off.
we cried, we tried to enjoy ourselves, we had social anxiety, we were frustrated, we talked about Truman.
We usually love being on the road but not so much this time. It was like it was clearly part of the grieving processing. We had to just get through it... and it was not as carefree and enjoyable as it was before we carried this sadness. That innocence and the freedom that comes with it is gone.
instead of Truman's first Christmas, Truman's first time to his grandpa's house, Truman's first road trip.... everything is our first time without Truman and it all fucking sucks.
and no one gets it besides Jeff. and you guys.
I started this blog as a way to have my family and friends to understand what this was like. As time goes on i am starting to realize that they will never, ever really get it no matter how much i type. Who would want to truly get it anyways?
It must get old for them. I can only imagine what it would be like to be on the other side of this.
But i think i am going to start a new blog exclusively for my baby loss community friends so that i can say what i really need to with out hurting people's feelings.
The facts are, i am a survivor but i am a wounded still. I will never heal. and you baby loss friends are the only people who really understand that.
I know that i may sound ungrateful on some level.... which is not the case. I am grateful. But i now have to put up with people expecting me to put in a facade. a happy face. This back and forth of their expectations of my sadness and my actual sadness is another part of this loss.
My sadness brings them down.
they don't understand and they don't understand how lucky they are to not understand. they don't understand that them not understanding my pain and my loss is hard for me. They don't understand that considering everything, i am doing very well.
Our time here in Florida has been great so far. Very comforting to be here.
until yesterday.
Christmas. nothing can comfort this feeling of loss.
We woke up heartbroken.
I'm being honest when i say that i had resentment towards my Dad and his girlfriend who cheerfully carried on through the day with no mention of Truman's existence.
How could they not bring him up? not want to say his name over and over?
How could they not be sad and missing him like we are?
At one point I said something about how i can't wait until this day is over. My Dad asked why. and i responded by saying that it just reminds me of everything that i don't have. He asked me if he thought it was my attitude that was making me feel this way. and i said "how do you think you'd be feeling if i died this year?"
it didn't respond.
isolation.
you can't make someone get it.
and the thing is, is that my Dad and i are very close. He usually always makes me feel better.
He was with me in the hospital when i had pre-eclampsia. He was there for it all, watching, as my father. Truman's grandfather.
I started typing this all last night and spurred an argument between him and I. He questioned why i felt more comfortable typing to a bunch of strangers instead of finding comfort in my family.
Its as simple as this: I want to talk about Truman. He wants to talk about everything but Truman. Therefore i held back tears all day until i emotionally shut down and stopped talking all together. I don't care to talk about the weather or watch the news.
I can't help that yesterday has angered me. I don't have my baby and it isn't fair.
I can't help that on one else wants to say his name.
I can't help that they may think i'm being bitchy. My silence is not bitchy, it's me keeping my grief to myself and not laying it on other people who don't care to grieve with me.
The truth is everything would be different yesterday and today if Truman was alive.
But he isn't.
Ugh. Sounds like a horrible trip... But then there isn't anything that is quite as enjoyable as it would be. I'm sorry about your dad. I realize that it hurts the most when the people we want to get it the most, don't get it. They say stupid things. Hurtful things. Because they just don't understand. To insinuate that you have an attitude problem is insulting and plan untrue. Truman is dead.. That changes everything. I am angry a lot... About a lot. The fallout of friends, the aliveness of everyone else's children, people's ignorance, the never ending waves of missing... There is so much, too much. And we do it all so solitary. Even with some people understanding it is solitary. I thought your trip would be a good one, driving, getting out of your space.. I'm sorry it wasn't, I wish so many things were different for us both. Love to you.
ReplyDeleteThank you Renel. <3
ReplyDeleteThere have been parts that have been healing. The weather is helping a lot. and we still have a lot of the trip left so hopefully it just gets better and easier from here! Sending you lots of love and thinking about your sweet Camille. xo
I'm so sorry you feel this way, but it is how we feel and it just plain sucks. Not one family member or friend I was in contact with yesterday made one mention of Wilhelm all day. The only people who speak or write his name are my other babyloss friends. I just so hoped I'd get one card that had his name written in it. Why is this so hard? Shannon and I ate dinner alone last night and we toasted to Wilhelm and had a candle lit all day in his memory. In a way I'm glad we decided to stay home on our first Christmas without him. I am not so sure any of our family understands why we chose this, but you are right they will never get it. I too should be in Florida right now with my family, but I just couldn't bear to be around all that "happiness" for an entire week. There were lots of tears shed over the last few days that is for sure. I also get what you say about only being able to share how you really feel on your blog. I even find that hard sometimes as well. As always, holding you and Truman close to my heart and thinking of you. HUGS!!!
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry you had such a crappy time. It's so hard and you're right, you can't make people get it, which sucks. It's not that I'd wish this on anyone, but I do often wish that people just could understand how we're feeling and what this feels like. Then maybe they wouldn't be so stupid.
ReplyDeleteI spent Christmas and Christmas Eve alone (again) this year because my hubby feels guilty not going to family things. So, I ate bagel bites and watched tv by myself last night.
I'd like to tell you that next year will be better, and part of it will be, because at least you'll know what to expect... but, let me warn you now, it will still suck. It's our second Christmas without Drew, so I think people just expect me to be back to "normal" and want to be with them, see their kids, participate in holidays, etc. and I don't know that I will ever feel that way again.
I'm sending you a big hug and hoping that today is better than yesterday :)
Oh Laura. I'm so, so sorry. You aren't being bitchy. You are actually being incredibly considerate and gentle with other people. I wasn't anywhere near as kind, I just kept harping on about her, regardless of whether the person i was talking to wanted to listen.
ReplyDeleteAnd I know that I've found it so, so painful when people who were THERE don't get it. People in my own family don't get it. Don't want to talk about them. But, as you say, who would want to truly get it?
Thinking of you, Jeff and Truman at this difficult time. I wish your son were here, to celebrate Christmas with you xo
The only people who get it know what it is to lose a baby, I'm realizing this more and more as time goes on. Nobody brings up my son anymore, but I continue to do so, it's my job to keep his memory alive.
ReplyDeleteIt was our first Christmas without Liam and it fucking sucked. I stayed in bed until dinnertime. All I wanted to do was honor my son on Christmas day, eat some turkey, drink some wine and call it a night, which is exactly what I did.
I hope your trip gets better as you miss your Truman.
words from my own heart... I wish Truman were here in your arms.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you. xo
"you can't make someone get it" - isn't that the truth? Some people aren't imaginative enough, some aren't brave enough...
ReplyDeleteHoping there are more gentle parts of the trip/holidays in store for you.
Oh Laura, I so get it. You are brave to be around people at this time of year. John and I opted out of everything celebratory this Christmas... I just knew it would be a day of paper hats, champagne, festive decorations, and the inevitable no mention of Seamus - and I just couldn't do it. I can't plaster a smile over my broken heart for everyone else's sake. I've been doing it for months now, and it's too tiring. We needed to look out for ourselves. So we lit a few a candles, had a relatively normal day - ate lasagne, and talked about Seamus as much as we liked - guilt free. It was still a tough day, but at least we didn't have the added layer of having to fake happiness on top of it all.
ReplyDeleteI thought a lot about all the parents I've gotten to know in this community. I thought about how much Christmas can bring so much loneliness and pain... I thought about myself this time last year, and how different everything should have been - for so many of us.
And I thought about your Truman. Poor little love. And his Mummy and Daddy - I hope you guys can take care of each other and that life goes nice and gently on you for a while. xx
I dont understand that parents that have children wether young old could not comprehend how this feels but they just dont. What I saddly learned from this is that most people are very shallow. xo
ReplyDeleteI can honestly say... I've been that person on the other side.
ReplyDeleteMy nephew died when he was 20, in a car accident back in 2005. After a while, we all started to get concerned about my sister-in-law. We felt that she was obsessed and wasn't allowing herself to move on. Even though I never said anything like that to her, I apologized to her after I lost Nathan. I realize now... what she is going through. Yes, there is an age difference and we are grieving two different lives and things but the end result is the same: we both lost a son. She is missing all the things she had with him. I am missing all the things I will never have with mine.
I had another friend who lost her baby at 30 weeks gestation, this past March. I had no clue what to say or how to act towards her. I apologized to her also because it breaks my heart to know, now, that I wasn't there for her like I should have been. I just didn't understand... until I experienced it myself.
Honestly, unless people have experienced the loss of a child... they will never get it and they will never understand. Especially the people who love you the most. They can't fix this and that hurts them! They can't do anything to make it better for you so they say things to try and compensate... not realizing that it is hurtful.
I had a co-worker tell me one day, about two months after I lost Nathan, that she understood (when I was telling her that as far as we knew, his cause of death was a cord accident). She said her oldest son's cord was wrapped and he came out blue. She said it scared her to death. It kinda floored me because I was like "Really? How the hell can you compare that experience and say you understand? You actually left the hospital with a LIVING, BREATHING baby!!!" I know her intention wasn't to upset me or belittle my feelings but still...
I hope that the new year will be gentle to you. Lots of hugs!! We are all here missing Truman and our babies... right along beside you. You just keep writing and keep exploring your feelings. We'll be here for you!
i'm sorry your day was so sad.
ReplyDeletekeep holding truman close to your heart and screw anyone else who doesn't think you have that right. that's just ridiculous. you're entitled to feel however you want. both good days and bad. and you shouldn't have to explain yourself to anyone. xo.
At one point I said something about how i can't wait until this day is over. My Dad asked why. and i responded by saying that it just reminds me of everything that i don't have. He asked me if he thought it was my attitude that was making me feel this way. and i said "how do you think you'd be feeling if i died this year?"
ReplyDeleteit didn't respond.
isolation.
you can't make someone get it.
*************************
Truman, do you know what I wish? That on top of the utter Hell of your death, your mother didn't have to bear being misunderstood, misjudged, misheard, mistaken, and yes, mistreated. Even if they don't mean to do it.
My husband says, "Not everyone who cares has the ability to show it."
I can swallow that in the calmer times. But when it's raw, no. And it's mostly raw.
Being so misunderstood in the midst of everything is just so: insurmountable.
It makes you want to run. In my experience, it makes you want to run to "strangers" on the internet...
because you can tell by their words and their hearts and their stories and their fears and their agonies
that you are not going to have to translate for them.
They get it.
Your Dad loves you and I know you love him. I also get exactly why this hurt so much and why you gave him the best possible answer anyone could have. If you had died this year...
Yes.
Oh, Laura Beck. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Truman, your name deserves to be mentioned forever.
Cathy in Missouri
Please, if you leave to write somewhere else, can I come with you?
ReplyDeleteCathy in Missouri
I'm so sorry Laura. It is horrible that on top of everything you have gone through.. that you now have to deal with being hurt by the actions (and non-actions) of others. I want you to know that every time I ask how you are doing.. I truly want to know how you are doing.. really doing!! I know I can't relate to what you are going through but I do really care!
ReplyDeleteI identify with every word of this and am having a terrible time pulling myself out of the slump that was Christmas without my daughter. I would love to just tell people I am "not fine" every time they ask, but that's not what they want to hear.
ReplyDeleteOh Laura, I am so damn sorry.
ReplyDeleteTRUE, TRUE, TRUE to everything you have stated here. You have a beautiful way of expressing how all of us feel. You are not alone.
This was perfectly stated: "They don't understand that considering everything, i am doing very well." YES. I think this is what hurts the most when it comes to the people around us who don't understand. Like if they actually knew the kind of intense pain we are going through, they would be marveled at our ability to even smile. But, of course, like you said, they are lucky to not be able to understand.
I'm so sorry your Father wasn't what you had hoped he would be. I'm glad you at least were able to talk about it a little...I have hope that these kind of conversations will help him help you. I know with some of my family and friends, it takes time to figure out what we need.
Anyway, I'm here, reading every single post, thinking about Truman and hoping you gentleness each day.
Josh
In one way you want people to "get it" but to "get it" means you have a membership to the dead baby club. I'd like to give my membership back...have it revoked and be on the ignorant side of judgement.
ReplyDeleteI think it's even harder when it's a close family member...like a parent...can't they see the hurt in your eyes? As their child you would think they do and I think for the most part they just don't want to cause you any further pain and as always the biggest misconception is that it's even more painful when they are forgotten.
Sorry for the ramble...thinking of you and Truman
I've been reading and rereading this post for almost two weeks, and have been thinking of words that might make you feel better.
ReplyDeleteI still don't have any, except maybe that I totally get it. I really do. When O was born 10 months after Calla died, on the 9th, my mom said to me, "Oh, your birthday is a 9th and now O's--it's a lucky day!"
Yes, except for that time when my baby died on it. And was her due date.
I get it, and I'm sorry Christmas and everything else sucked. Wish I could be there to give you a huge hug.
xo