One evening on vacation, while waiting for our order, we sat in a pizza place and I tried to convince my kid she really did want to eat the yogurt and applesauce I’d brought along for her. I’ve found if she’s distracted I can shovel more food in her mouth than when she’s paying attention to what is actually going on so she was playing with her Granny’s key chain.
On the keychain is little silver hearts with everyone’s birthstones. I’m sure you can see where this is going, I however was clueless. As she goes through each charm she tells me who it belongs to, she finally comes to 2 silver charms that don’t have birthstones but are animals instead; a teddy bear and a rabbit. I’m only half way paying attention because it would be really awesome to not get covered in food before my food actually arrives not to mention eat it while it’s still warm so I make a benign comment about how cute they are to which G replies; “Those are for my brothers.”
It was an interesting moment. The room came screeching to a halt for less than a second, and then everything started moving again but now I’m trying my damnedest not to start blubbering in the middle of it all.
So many emotions from those words coming from her mouth. They sounded adorable by the way. The 2 biggest feelings are of course the conflicting ones; pure joy at hearing her say “my brothers” and simultaneously a knife through my heart that she will never ever play with them or know them or argue or share secrets, they will never be anything more than the charms on her Granny’s key chain and the necklace around her mommy’s neck.
I pulled my shit together, got through the evening and allowed a little break down while doing the dishes as Granny gave G a bath.
I spend too much time feeling guilty at the pain I’ve caused others from losing my babies, but at the same time I do my best to push to the outer reaches of my mind that other people still miss them. Of course she has charms on her family keychain, she would never leave them out, she misses them too. I just am so bad about keeping a stiff upper lip that I can’t talk about them to anyone face to face so I don’t know the little ways they are being celebrated. Which isn’t fair to anyone.
G was playing with my necklace the other day, usually she just plays with the charm and asks about it, I tell her it’s a birthstone and we go about our day. But that day she asked what it said on the inside, so I told her; “Your brother’s names.” I don’t know if I’ve said that to her ever before. She didn’t understand Little T’s name, it’s a weird one, and didn’t acknowledge that Little M’s name is the same as half her family, she just said “Oh, ok.” And went on with jingling it.
Everything we do is bittersweet. Every joyous occasion is a glaring reminder of who should be there. I spent the entire vacation wondering how a 14 month old or a 4 month old would fit in the scheme of things. The water, the beach, the walks in the stroller. They’re always right there in front of my mind, I guess I need to start sharing them with everyone else. Easier said than done for me.
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What a beautiful, heartbreaking post. Thank you for sharing it with us.
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks for the email the other day. It was touched my heart in ways I can't express with words. It also restored a faith in why I do this, why I share myself with others and let them share themselves with me. I really needed that reminder, especially the day I got your email, so thank you.
You are absolutely welcome, and thank you.
DeleteFirst of all, you have balls of steel. I cried when I read that. Of course, I'm alone on my computer and not in a room full of people.
ReplyDeleteSecond, balls to that. It starts with you. You're the mama. Then J, then G, then everyone else. They can have their feelings all over the place, except with you. You get to decide when the remembering and celebrating can go public.
Also? ((((hugs))))
Thank you, so often I feel like I'm grieving "wrong" . I think it's because it's just so awful, there's no settling into it. This makes me feel stronger about it.
DeleteOh boy. I'm crying. That is so sweet and sad it aches.
ReplyDeleteOthers are remembering and celebrating and mourning, but you're Mama. You get to be sad first and most and all alone or all over everyone else and, hey, share when it feels healing to *you*.
Haha, all over everyone else made me smile. These are messy fucking feelings. Thank you.
DeleteThere's no reason to feel guilty!! It's not your fault and no one thinks it is. Seriously. Do what you can, when you can. They love you and will accept whatever you choose to do, when you choose to do it.
ReplyDeleteI get that somewhere in there mentally, but the crazy still gets to me sometimes.
DeleteOH, Amelia. That must have seriously caught you off-guard. In so many ways, it's so beautiful. I know it's hard to talk about your boys and those emotions, but if you want to, you deserve to. G obviously knows how loved and important they are to your family-- so much that she owned them. She clearly cares and loves them, too.
ReplyDeleteShe does, and that really helps. But it makes me ugly cry too so there I go. :)
DeleteAnd thank you.
DeleteIt is only now, 2 and half years later, that I can (sometimes) talk about my son with anyone without breaking down. Even then, I think that is only because I'm finally pregnant again and already have another child through adoption. I kind of resent that this is true, because it makes him fell less somehow, but having another child already here (I'm not counting the maybe yet, not that optimistic) has made Aiden's loss easier to bear. I was told by my support group that it takes an average of 3 years to incorporate a loss and start to feel normal again. I think that is very true. And considering that's an average that means for 50% of moms it takes more than 3 years. I'm glad your family is remembering with you, and everyone else is right. There is no "right" way to grieve. You're doing the best you can and it's good enough.
ReplyDelete3 years huh? Something to consider. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteIt is so hard for me to talk about Eliza with my parents because I feel so much guilt and sadness about their grief. But I love that their charms were there, and that G recognized them. I'm so sorry her brothers aren't here.
ReplyDeleteI guess I just can't absorb any more grief.
DeleteShe's so little now that she brings her brothers up without giving it a second thought, which is sweet inits own way. I can remember being like that, which I'm sure must have tugged at my mother's heartstrings. Then, as I got older, I became just like everyone else: caught in the awkwardness of the moment and never sure whether it would be less painful to my mom for me to acknowledge my two other brothers or not to mention them. I know it has to be so terribly hard for you, but I don't really know just how hard.
ReplyDeleteInteresting, I've never heard it from G's potential point of view. It is a conflict, as everything seems to be these days.
DeleteSorrow frames us all at times. Lots of crazy crap can inhibit the healting process, but you will get there. You & G keep one another afloat. While you are soothing your daughter, let her soothe you.
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday to G. ~Mary