Things have been getting better. There are still ups and downs, but the ups are increasing. But, is it weird that the realization that things are getting better is hard? I feel like I am getting better, but I am still so far away from feeling whole. Feeling like I did before this happened. I thought and analyzed that. I guess that it just had to sink in again that I won't ever be the person I was before. How could I go back to who I was before? I have to find what therapists call a 'new normal'. I'm trying to find the new me. Parts of her I like and there are parts of her I don't like.
The bad news is, there are going to be hard times, lots of them. The good news is, I'm learning to deal with them and hopefully become a better person along the way. I think Teagan would want that. I think she understands my sorrow. However, I think she would want her impact on me to be a positive one, not a negative one. I want to show her that her short, precious, wonderful life was a good thing. I want to show her that even though her death is unbearably hard, her life is an eternal blessing to me.
I found this, and related to it and wanted to post it. It describes it better than I can.
MY NEW “NORMAL”
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family’s life.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby’s age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
Normal is telling the story of your child’s death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone’s eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my “normal”.
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child’s memory and his birthday and survive these days.
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special that my baby would have loved, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you – it doesn’t compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have three children or two, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have two children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.
And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become “normal” for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are “normal”.
-Author Unknown
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby’s age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
Normal is telling the story of your child’s death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone’s eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my “normal”.
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child’s memory and his birthday and survive these days.
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special that my baby would have loved, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you – it doesn’t compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have three children or two, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have two children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.
And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become “normal” for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are “normal”.
-Author Unknown
6 comments:
Oh the normal thing is SO true! And I hate all of them! HA It is hard to accept the new normal. I so don't want to. I hate being sad and I hate not being sad. It is a double edge sword. :(
Um, ditto?
To all of it?
It's been over a year for us and while it is getting easier and some of these new normals don't happen on a daily basis, it's still true that someone is missing and that it's not fair.
We've finally started telling people (once we knew we were having a boy) that this is our first baby. Even though it's not. And I still feel that little sting, like the list of "new normals" says. Like I'm forgetting about her. But I'm not. Instead, I'm holding her sacred. It's also hard to talk casually about my previous pregnancy and c-section, and subsequently her delivery and loss. I want to be able to talk about it with people without them feeling horrible or thinking I don't feel sad about it anymore because I can talk about it without crying. If that makes any sense.
I echo what Alesha said.
Om gosh, I have never read that and LOVED it, I might steal it from you :)
I am glad that you are doing better with finding your new self. I didn't want to find my new normal and i think I let the hurt, suffering go on longer than it really should have. But I think everyone needs to get to a point where they stand up, dust themselves off...and figure out what or how they are going to do with the rest of their brokenhearted life. I also had a hard time with the new normal because it felt like I had to forget Beckett and everything that happened...once i worked through those feelings things were much easier to work on. ((Hugs))
I love that so much I'm totally going to steal it and put in on my blog so that it will be in my blog book next year. What a wonderful way to explain to those who don't understand a little of how our lives are and will always be. I have to say all of those "normal things" truly are my normal life. Thank you so very much for sharing.
I love this! Oh how it rings true for me. You are doing so well and so early on. You are a great example to me!! Thank you for this insight I needed it today. I may just have to steal this for my blog. Hugs mama!
I needed this poem today! I have never heard it!
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