Someday I'll be able to read other mom's blogs without crying all over my keyboard. Someday maybe I'll be able to read that book that sits on my nightstand about the mom who lost her baby and not cry when I'm a few pages into it. Someday maybe I'll feel healed enough. But I think I'll always cry. I think that losing Shannon left a door open in my heart that only other loss moms know about. A door that lets us cross over into each other's pain and let's us share our burdens with each other so that each of us can bear our pain, and help others bear theirs.
I think we do that because there are so many others who shut themselves off from us when we had our losses, so they wouldn't have to feel our pain, or "catch" our bad luck.
But even if that someday happens for me, I'll never believe that everything happens for a reason. And I'll never stop missing Shannon.
A week or so ago, we went to dinner with one of the "someone's" who disappeared when Shannon died. They likely disappeared because they were, at the time, pregnant with a girl and were likely freaked out by my Shannon's death. When I saw them, I was cordial, friendly even a little, but I was surprised to admit to myself that I was still kinda mad, in my heart, that they had ditched when the shit hit the fan for us. And that is ok.
2 comments:
I had three stillborn babies many years ago becasue of the RH factor. They only let me see one of them, and my husband and I got to hold him. This moment never fades. Going home from the hospital without a baby never fades. I had a healthy girl some years later and now she is having her second baby. The first time I lost a baby, I went to see a 'friend' and she said something and I said that happened when I was in the hospital which was my way of saying I was still in shock when that happened. She said, "You act like you were in the hospital forever." I never visited with her again. I cannot stand it when people think you need to just get over this and move on. God bless you.
I don't strongly believe in much, but I do believe you will see your daughter again. I admire your strength.
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