The many sides of grief

June 4, 2010 · Personal, Personal

I am not quite sure this is the right venue for this, but this seems to be the only place I can get it out. As much as I would love to keep a written journal (I have many super cute journals with only two or three entries in them) I find this easier. Maybe it is because I am used to typing. Anyway, here goes…

I’ve been told that I should take it for all it is. Grief is painful, ugly, infuriating and confusing. For me, has been especially ugly the past few days. However, I am starting to realize that in grief there is also beauty – a tiny ray of light in immense darkness. To simply say that it is all things bad would dismiss the things that I have become thankful for. I realize, now, that I didn’t have a choice as to whether or not my Emma would survive on this Earth with us, to share her life with her daddy, sissy and mummy…it was predetermined by some “higher power” (nature, God, fate, Allah, Jehovah, whatever you choose to call it), it is simply something more powerful than I.

There are things which I regret. People tell me not to because it will drive me crazy and that the guilt is unwarranted. But it is still there. I regret not taking more pictures of her the week that I had her at home, like when she went to see Daddy play soccer and snuggling with us in the mornings. Of not writing down every single moment with her. Not holding her more. Not singing to her more. Not being able to be with her every moment while she was in the hospital.  I thought I had a lifetime with her. I feel like many things have been stripped away from me, taken away before I even had the chance to fully understand & appreciate them, and it feels easier to look at my new self and life with utter bitterness and hate. Or, I could allow myself to see the wonderful things she left behind for me to find. Snippets of Emma – gifts I know are “From Emma” and she sends them to me every single day and will treasure them always.

I now know what it is like to go through something that rattles your soul. Experienced a pain so incredibly deep and raw that it leaves you in a haze.  I’ve seen a newborn fight for their life harder than anyone and did it with astonishing grace. She was a super princess. Because of her I am more patient and persistent, with others and myself. I see beauty in the little things…things I overlooked many many times in my life before her. I need less and desire less. I am stronger spiritually. I love differently now – it is brighter, stronger, hardier and even more cherished. I treasure all of the moments that make up each and every day with Claire.

Although I am grateful for this experience it does not mean that I miss my baby any less. It doesn’t mean that I would not trade it all if it meant that it would bring her back to us – to be a family of four.  I still have days that thick clouds of sorrow and despair refuse to burn off. All the pain is still there and the void is no smaller. Even amidst the fog of pain, I know I am so very very lucky for the gifts she has given to me and to have had her, albeit briefly. I dream that one day my memories of the life I shared with Emma and the gifts she continues to give me are suffice. I hope that the regrets fade and that great things will have happened because of her. I hope that she continues to make me a better person.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. i love you immensely and will be forever missing.

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