So I am reading the book Still by Stephanie Cole. Its amazing. It pinpoints exactly what I went/am going through. I wish everyone who knows me who is not a BLM would read it. One day I would love to turn this blog into a book for other BLM to read...one day...
Anyway I wanted to share some of the excerpts from the book...
"People will tell you that time heals. Those people are liars. The Pain doesnt go away, you just build up your tolerance to it. It is like lifting weights. If you try to lift 500 pounds, it is going to crush you. But if you lift it every day of your life, it is going to get easier and easier to do, and eventually you are going to lift it without breaking a sweat..."
"Some people say they've looked death in the eye. I've cradled it in my arms, in my body. Given birth to it. Its not scary when its that close."
"The Stephanie who was pregnant and excited to start her new life as a mommy is gone. She died with her daughter. I'm a different person. My life has changed forever and so have I."
The last quote from her book I feel is a good ending to this post and the way I know all of us feel.
"I dont think most people truly understand how much is lost when a baby dies. You dont just lose a baby, you also lose the 1 and 2 and 10 and 16 year old she would have become. You lose christmas mornings and loose teeth and first days of school. You just lose it all"
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Dealing with the reality of changing relationships after your child dies.
Written by Kristi Sagrillo
A wise gardener once told me that if you want a beautiful garden to grow you must weed it from time to time. Weeding for any gardener, whether it’s a small flower pot on the front porch or a gorgeous flower garden in the backyard is an assumed task and occasionally just has to be done. However, if you neglect to prune the weeds they will eventually begin to overcrowd or, worse yet, become invasive and try and take over your entire garden.
After the death of my son, I began to apply this same logic to my own life.
On November 7, 2005 my son Alex was stillborn; I was 37 weeks pregnant with him. He was perfect and healthy, except for the twisted umbilical cord that cut off his oxygen supply. Alex was a beautiful 8 pound 21 inch baby boy. Up until this point in time, my “life garden”, as I will affectionately refer to it, was perfect. Or, so it seemed. But on that date, and from that time forward, everything was different. My life garden had been devastated. There were no more blooming flowers; they had all been drowned by the tears that showered down upon them. Those first few weeks after Alex’s death were very surreal. Nothing mattered any longer. Life had continued to go on around me and I felt like I was helplessly watching a horrible movie unfold before my eyes and I couldn’t find the door to escape.
Soon the weeks turned into months and I had noticed that my life garden had a small number of flowers that had weathered the storm. Of course, the black cloud was ever-present and it still rained sporadically, but it was not raining quite as hard or as long as it did those first few months. My husband and living children were still there, they had always been there I just couldn’t see them until the rain had subsided. And new flowers began to sprout up - flowers that I had never planted or maybe never noticed before. These new friends and past acquaintances were now offering me their genuine love and support and would become the flower border surrounding my life garden. The support they gave me and continue to give me is cherished, now and forever.
As my garden began to slowly grow back, so did the weeds. At first I didn’t have the energy or the strength to pick them so I just ignored them. But eventually they were beginning to suck the life right out of me. I was struggling with how to cope after the death of my son as well as what it meant to me and how his death would define me forever. There were family members and numerous friends (too many to count) that could not or would not grant me the space or the respect to figure this out. I did not understand why they could not offer me their support, after all they were there for me in the past, right? They had been there before when I needed them, what was so different this time?
It was the death of my child that was different. I had changed overnight but they had not. I was not that same person any longer and they wanted the “old” me back. They wanted everything to go back to “normal”. But this was the new me and my life had taken a different path and this was a journey they did not want to take with me. My grief had suddenly shifted from grief for my son to anger towards them and I was going down a very dangerous road. I had veered off my path of grief and was headed down the winding road of hate and rage. My world was spinning out of control and I needed to reclaim it. I realized that my focus needed to be on my son if I was going to move through this grief process in a healthy way. It would have been very easy to shut out everyone. But what I needed to do was to remove any outside forces that were preventing me from my journey.
So began the weeding process. There were the co-workers who would avoid me if they saw me coming their way as if they could “catch” my bad luck like the common cold. On the outside they looked like flowers, but it quickly became apparent that they were indeed weeds. They would be easily plucked from my garden because their roots did not go very deep. It was the weeds that I had ignored for too long that took more energy to pull. Their roots were deep and in some cases were connected to other noxious weeds. Pulling one meant pulling two or more along with it. Those were the seemingly close friends that never called, never offered their support; it was like they disappeared from our life after the memorial service.
But it was the family members that hurt the most. The ones you would expect to be there for you. The verbal attacks and insensitive comments like, “When are you going to move on?”, “Shouldn’t she be over this, it’s been 3 months?”, “She should be grateful she has two living children” (Like one can be swapped out for another!) The last straw for me was when family members questioned my parenting abilities towards my two living children, this only 4 months after Alex’s death. Evidently, I had allowed my children to make faces at the adults and this caused them great pain and disrespect towards them. Hmm…sounds like a great reason to attack my parenting skills.
Initially, the shock of finally removing them from my life stung, but if my garden was going to continue to grow it simply had to be done. I gave myself permission to do this and coupled with that permission was the power I needed to gain control over my life once again.
I continue to weed my garden but it isn’t needed as frequently anymore. I am stronger now and more attentive and am able to pluck any weeds before they even have a chance to touch the soil. I am planting new flowers everyday and watering the ones I have. Every now and again the thunderstorms roll in but I have realized that my garden needs the rain and the sun in order to continue flourishing.
Written by Kristi Sagrillo
A wise gardener once told me that if you want a beautiful garden to grow you must weed it from time to time. Weeding for any gardener, whether it’s a small flower pot on the front porch or a gorgeous flower garden in the backyard is an assumed task and occasionally just has to be done. However, if you neglect to prune the weeds they will eventually begin to overcrowd or, worse yet, become invasive and try and take over your entire garden.
After the death of my son, I began to apply this same logic to my own life.
On November 7, 2005 my son Alex was stillborn; I was 37 weeks pregnant with him. He was perfect and healthy, except for the twisted umbilical cord that cut off his oxygen supply. Alex was a beautiful 8 pound 21 inch baby boy. Up until this point in time, my “life garden”, as I will affectionately refer to it, was perfect. Or, so it seemed. But on that date, and from that time forward, everything was different. My life garden had been devastated. There were no more blooming flowers; they had all been drowned by the tears that showered down upon them. Those first few weeks after Alex’s death were very surreal. Nothing mattered any longer. Life had continued to go on around me and I felt like I was helplessly watching a horrible movie unfold before my eyes and I couldn’t find the door to escape.
Soon the weeks turned into months and I had noticed that my life garden had a small number of flowers that had weathered the storm. Of course, the black cloud was ever-present and it still rained sporadically, but it was not raining quite as hard or as long as it did those first few months. My husband and living children were still there, they had always been there I just couldn’t see them until the rain had subsided. And new flowers began to sprout up - flowers that I had never planted or maybe never noticed before. These new friends and past acquaintances were now offering me their genuine love and support and would become the flower border surrounding my life garden. The support they gave me and continue to give me is cherished, now and forever.
As my garden began to slowly grow back, so did the weeds. At first I didn’t have the energy or the strength to pick them so I just ignored them. But eventually they were beginning to suck the life right out of me. I was struggling with how to cope after the death of my son as well as what it meant to me and how his death would define me forever. There were family members and numerous friends (too many to count) that could not or would not grant me the space or the respect to figure this out. I did not understand why they could not offer me their support, after all they were there for me in the past, right? They had been there before when I needed them, what was so different this time?
It was the death of my child that was different. I had changed overnight but they had not. I was not that same person any longer and they wanted the “old” me back. They wanted everything to go back to “normal”. But this was the new me and my life had taken a different path and this was a journey they did not want to take with me. My grief had suddenly shifted from grief for my son to anger towards them and I was going down a very dangerous road. I had veered off my path of grief and was headed down the winding road of hate and rage. My world was spinning out of control and I needed to reclaim it. I realized that my focus needed to be on my son if I was going to move through this grief process in a healthy way. It would have been very easy to shut out everyone. But what I needed to do was to remove any outside forces that were preventing me from my journey.
So began the weeding process. There were the co-workers who would avoid me if they saw me coming their way as if they could “catch” my bad luck like the common cold. On the outside they looked like flowers, but it quickly became apparent that they were indeed weeds. They would be easily plucked from my garden because their roots did not go very deep. It was the weeds that I had ignored for too long that took more energy to pull. Their roots were deep and in some cases were connected to other noxious weeds. Pulling one meant pulling two or more along with it. Those were the seemingly close friends that never called, never offered their support; it was like they disappeared from our life after the memorial service.
But it was the family members that hurt the most. The ones you would expect to be there for you. The verbal attacks and insensitive comments like, “When are you going to move on?”, “Shouldn’t she be over this, it’s been 3 months?”, “She should be grateful she has two living children” (Like one can be swapped out for another!) The last straw for me was when family members questioned my parenting abilities towards my two living children, this only 4 months after Alex’s death. Evidently, I had allowed my children to make faces at the adults and this caused them great pain and disrespect towards them. Hmm…sounds like a great reason to attack my parenting skills.
Initially, the shock of finally removing them from my life stung, but if my garden was going to continue to grow it simply had to be done. I gave myself permission to do this and coupled with that permission was the power I needed to gain control over my life once again.
I continue to weed my garden but it isn’t needed as frequently anymore. I am stronger now and more attentive and am able to pluck any weeds before they even have a chance to touch the soil. I am planting new flowers everyday and watering the ones I have. Every now and again the thunderstorms roll in but I have realized that my garden needs the rain and the sun in order to continue flourishing.
Kooper Welch
Im so sorry I did not update sooner on Baby Kooper. As most of you know Amy gave birth to Kalli at 27 weeks almost a year ago due to Preeclampsia. Sadly Kalli came and left too soon. Amy just gave birth to Kooper at 28 weeks due to Preeclampsia again. Amy is recovering well and baby Kooper is doing good! Please visit him. He is adorable!
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/kooperwelch/photos
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/kooperwelch/photos
Lately
Lately im crabby...irritated...annoyed...aggravated...sensitive...I think it all boils down to my first month of TTC. It was way more emotional than I would have ever imagined it to be. I know it was only the first time...Im know im young...I know I have time....blah blah blah...but it still does not make me feel any better about having a BFN! Me being young, and having lots of time has nothing to do with the fact that she is gone. (Abbriviating lingo... BFP: Big fat positive, BFN: Big fat negative, TTC, trying to conceive, BLM: Baby loss mom)
Lately I have let little things get to me and let things bug me that typically never do. I feel like some may feel im "better". I dont know how many times I can say I will never be "better" or back to my old self. This is my new self. You dont like it...sounds like a personal problem. I have also have some people tell me that I handle things very well. I like to hear that, but I dont think thats really the case. I believe that I just handle things differently. I think that im just realistic. I know that I can't bring her back and nothing will ever change what happened. SOOOOO I just need to accept it and try to move forward. If you look the name Cara up in the dictionary I can reassure you that my name is underneath. She defines me. She makes me smile, and she is the reason why I want to move on...for her...she would want that. No ones child in heaven wants to look down on their mother crying every single day.
Lately im getting a little nervous as I get closer and closer to the year mark...I know im not that close yet...but im already past 7 months...(crazy I know.) Im nervous because I dont want anyone to forget. To forget her, or what happened to her...or what I went through, or what I go through every day.
Lately I am missing Charlie. Reason? One week after I lost my daughter not even a week out of being released from the hospital, Charlie had emergency back surgery. When Charlie came home, I took care of him. He was 100% paralyzed from the mid back down. I had to take him outside, change his bed, wipe him down when he lost control of his bowels. I was focused on him. Thank god. Really...otherwise I would have sat there and stared at the wall for 6 weeks. I held Charlie all day long. When I think of him I think of her. When I came home from the hospital, without her, on 3 different medications, My husband and mom had off with me so I did not have to be alone. When everyone went back to work is when Charlie needed his emergency surgery, so I was not alone, because I was so occupied and focused on his survival.I just lost her, I cant loose him... I spent over 6 thousand dollars of desperate measures of saving him. I had three months with him after his surgery, before the end. I just miss him terribly. I never thought I could be so attached to an animal...I guess you would have had to known him.
Here is how I am resolving this. I am not going to be talking about my TTC anymore. (except with possibly one or two people) Its does nothing but get my hopes up or make me anxious...that I do not need. I wont even be blogging about it. I wont be testing until a few days prior, and I will not be announcing right away, I will wait until I hear a first heartbeat.
Right now I need to focus on what makes me happy. That is my dogs, my husband, my family, and my job. Thats it. So I will be redirecting my focus once again, and stop focusing on little things that do not matter.
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