It's been ten and a half weeks since we lost Thatcher. I can't really say where I'm at on this grief journey, because I never read any books about the grief process. I avoided them because I was scared of what they would say, but also hopeful that this would not be our story. But...it is...and has been.
Most days I'm fine. My definition of "fine" is based on what I have read from others' experiences. I do cry at least once a day, but I'm able to get out of bed and do the day-to-day things (mostly without incident). I'm also able to talk about Thatcher, now, without crying every time. I owe a lot to my children that don't give me the luxury of having down time, but mostly, I owe my Lord for sustaining me the last 10 weeks.
I was proud that I was doing so well, despite the ugly hand we had been dealt. Then, I began to second guess myself. I felt as though I wasn't fully dealing with the death of our son. I haven't even been to visit his grave in several weeks.
It has become apparent the last couple of weeks that I'm not as okay as I thought. Even though my brain is telling me that I'm okay, my body is telling me that I'm not. Physiological symptoms started to appear: insomnia, loss of appetite, heart palpitations, and an infection. I've also experienced a few panic attacks when I've been around newborns. I've spoken with doctors and started medicine for my sleep loss and infection (I avoid medicines when at all possible). My NP I saw today kindly handed me some recommendations for grief counseling and told me all that I am experiencing is a likely a bi-product of my grief. To be honest, I almost feel defeated. Like the facade I had created has crumbled and my true wounds are exposed. Not that I've kept what my family has been through a secret, but that I was withholding the full truth from myself. Perhaps it's a self-preservation tactic to keep those that have experienced painful loss from cratering.
I'm dealing with this as best as I know how. Thankfully, I have a whole host of patient people around me that are showing me lots of grace...especially my husband. I'm going to start being fully honest with myself. My new truth: I'm not okay....but that's okay.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
My Weary Heart
Thatcher has been gone for six and a half weeks, but I feel like I have been grieving for so much longer. Most of the time, I feel like I'm walking around in a haze. My ability to focus and complete the most basic tasks has diminished to zero. I had a hard time finishing things before...but this takes the cake.
Today, however, has been one of the hard ones. I can never tell when they will come. My day will be going smoothly, and without warning, I will get blindsided by something: a phone call, a keepsake, a comment, my milk letting down around other babies, all small reminders that my arms don't have a tiny baby to hold. Today, I was busy avoiding all the other things I needed to do and started cleaning out and reorganizing our garage while simultaneously helping the AC repair man and keeping the kids from killing each other. I was managing my day just fine, then, my phone rang. It was the funeral home informing me that Thatcher's death certificate was ready to be picked up. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I hid my face and cried for a moment before talking to the repairman again...I hope he doesn't think I'm crazy.
It's days like today that make it so hard to not be bitter or to have a woe-is-me attitude. Life just doesn't seem to let up. I have two small kids that demand lots of attention, fights that need mediating, a house that needs tending, laundry that needs cleaning, and the list goes on. All this without the grief can make the most energetic person feel worn, but mix it all up with grief and it can feel like you're drowning. On these hard days, I find it so hard to talk to God. I feel like I can't go to Him with this bitter, weary heart. The truth is, that is exactly what He wants...attitude and all. I may have to force myself to take a moment (or many) and just sit silently in my closet (yes, I hide from the kids and chaos) and weep with Him. When I am done, I feel like the weight has been lifted momentarily and God gives me the strength and peace to make it until the next wave comes.
Today, however, has been one of the hard ones. I can never tell when they will come. My day will be going smoothly, and without warning, I will get blindsided by something: a phone call, a keepsake, a comment, my milk letting down around other babies, all small reminders that my arms don't have a tiny baby to hold. Today, I was busy avoiding all the other things I needed to do and started cleaning out and reorganizing our garage while simultaneously helping the AC repair man and keeping the kids from killing each other. I was managing my day just fine, then, my phone rang. It was the funeral home informing me that Thatcher's death certificate was ready to be picked up. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I hid my face and cried for a moment before talking to the repairman again...I hope he doesn't think I'm crazy.
It's days like today that make it so hard to not be bitter or to have a woe-is-me attitude. Life just doesn't seem to let up. I have two small kids that demand lots of attention, fights that need mediating, a house that needs tending, laundry that needs cleaning, and the list goes on. All this without the grief can make the most energetic person feel worn, but mix it all up with grief and it can feel like you're drowning. On these hard days, I find it so hard to talk to God. I feel like I can't go to Him with this bitter, weary heart. The truth is, that is exactly what He wants...attitude and all. I may have to force myself to take a moment (or many) and just sit silently in my closet (yes, I hide from the kids and chaos) and weep with Him. When I am done, I feel like the weight has been lifted momentarily and God gives me the strength and peace to make it until the next wave comes.
But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isaiah 43:1-3a)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)