Sometimes I Just Miss Her

Hi dear reader.  I wonder where this blog post finds you today?  I’d say I hope you’re doing well, and sincerely I do, AND, if you’re not doing well – I welcome any and all emotional states!  When you’ve lost your baby, whether it’s through miscarriage, termination, stillbirth and/or newborn loss, you are entitled to feel however you are feeling – in this moment!

The other day I found myself driving home from an appointment.  And it hit me.  Sometimes I just miss her – my firstborn daughter, Acacia.  Really miss her.  And I miss so many things.  One of the first and foremost issues is that I never *knew* her.  She was never really real.  Yet in so many ways she was.  Of course she was real, I know this!  I gave birth to her, she lived for 2 1/2 days.  I drank her in.  Sat with her, held her, rocked her.  Observed my family and two close friends with her.  She was so real.  So alive, even in her trisomy 18 body, and there was so much LOVE in that little NICU room.  She weighed just under 4 pounds, and I have yet to meet anyone with as big as presence as her (okay, I got to hear the Dalai Lama speak in India once, that was pretty amazing too, but it still wasn’t this).  And while I am grateful for my short time with her, of course it will never be enough.  When I think of her, and miss her, it’s the plan I had for a lifetime with a healthy child that I’m mourning.  Who she “should have been” is who I miss.

So I miss her.  And I’ve done a lot of “work” around my grief.  I saw my individual therapist from a few weeks after Acacia died up until the day I gave my birth to my second daughter.  Literally, I saw my therapist on the day I went into labor as I felt some early contractions that morning that progressed into full on labor that evening.  So lots of therapy.  I don’t know how I would have gotten through that time without my nearly weekly sessions that provided a safe place to land.  My place to cry without judgment or fear.  No need to take care of anyone else or worry about scaring someone with my grief.  As I felt messy, crazy, and broken – all parts of me were safe there.  Then over the years I’ve met with some different energy healers, did some intuitive work, was trained as a Hospice volunteer, read a lot of books and websites and blogs about grief and babyloss…  And ya know what??  Sometimes I just miss her.  This gaping hole in our family.  Two kids.  One living.  My point being, no matter how hard we “work” with our grief; whether or not we let it come and go; at the end of the day, we miss our child(ren).

I attended a butterfly release years ago for baby loss after Acacia died.  As the founder of the nonprofit spoke to the group, she shared this Zen story with us:

A rich man asked a Zen master to write something down that could encourage the prosperity of his family for years to come. It would be something that the family could cherish for generations. On a large piece of paper, the master wrote, “Father dies, son dies, grandson dies.”

The rich man became angry when he saw the master’s work. “I asked you to write something down that could bring happiness and prosperity to my family. Why do you give me something depressing like this?”

“If your son should die before you,” the master answered, “this would bring unbearable grief to your family. If your grandson should die before your son, this also would bring great sorrow. If your family, generation after generation, disappears in the order I have described, it will be the natural course of life. This is true happiness and prosperity.”

If you are a babyloss parent reading this, you know full well the unbearable grief and great sorrow this story speaks to.  Know that I hold space for each and every one of our babies.  There are so many.  And know that it’s okay to miss your child.  Anytime, anywhere.  Sometimes it just creeps up on us.  And of course other times we’re knocked down by a tidal wave.

With much love,

Shelly

baby loss, miscarriage, termination, stillbirth, newborn loss, pregnancy loss, grief, miss my baby

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s