July 25, 2015

Grieving: 11 weeks in

Photos courtesy of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer Rachel Nygren unless noted otherwise
It has been 11 weeks.
Just 11 weeks since we lost little Graham to heaven.
11 weeks since I got to cuddle his chubby little self.
11 weeks since his heart was beating inside of my own body.
11 weeks since we started missing Graham.
Sort of like before he was born, I'm finding myself in a floating place.  There is no better way to describe it.  For a while I was simply existing, waking multiple times a night to horrific nightmares of baby shaped bullets, watching him die again and again, or losing James and Brad in some freak accident.  I stumbled around in pitch black grief, knowing Brad was somewhere in the darkness too, both of us struggling to keep up with James and life that kept moving further and further out of grasp. And now we're out of the dark and in a...fog?  Sometimes everything is okay, other times I can pretend, and sometimes nothing is okay.
photo taken by me
I've had to take James to the doctor recently, and she asked if he has any siblings.  I wasn't sure how to answer the question.  Yes, he does...or he did.  And if I say Graham, should I include our miscarriage too?  Do I mention neither because they're not living?  But if I say yes she'll want to know more, and will I start crying?  Do I really want to have this conversation today?  And why am I all sweaty?  How long have I been silently staring at her?  In the end I said that yes he did have a brother who passed shortly after birth this last May.  She was shocked into silence for a few moments.  Me too, lady,  me too.
photo taken by Brad
I've read all about the stages of grief AND through the book of Lamentations AND heard others' stories AND been to every infant loss website because that is what I do.  I research the crap out of something from every possible angle and figure it out.  Grief doesn't really work that way.  There isn't a best way or a right way, and it can't be understood.  Its just getting though it.  I read something interesting in all of my searching, and it seems to really apply.  People understand grief to the extent they have experienced it.  Its pretty true.  And then I think about that Beatles song that kept running through my head while in labor...I hate this song.  But it somehow comforts me too.

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