It's been 7 weeks, 2 days, 22 hours and 10 minutes since we lost our child. We are having a hard time moving on, but the world continues as always. How strange it is to watch people go shopping for Christmas or laugh in a group of people. These are things that are just normal, everyday activities, but they seem so strange and out of place. When I'm walking through a store, I feel like I'm screaming in my head for people to ask me how many children I have. At the same time, I'm terrified someone will ask me how many children I have. It's such a weird reaction. On one hand I'm terrified people will forget Kailee and on the other hand, I'm terrified people will ask about her.
It's hard to understand other people's grief. I know at least one person celebrating Christmas for the first time without their husband this year because he died. Today Brent and I were driving and saw her in her car. It wasn't until we saw the sad look on her face (almost a reflection of how I feel) that I realized that there are so many other people out there just trying to put one foot in front of the other everyday.
I have gotten to know several other mommies who have lost their babies this year on the same day they were born. We are able to really connect and understand how the others are feeling. I would recommend that to anyone grieving. Get yourself connected to people experiencing the same tragedy as you--- it helps.
I am surprised how many people just think that we're "okay." Brent and I cope so well in public--- we have to, or people might put us in the looney bin! I know at home, at least for me, the hardest time is in the middle of the night when I can't sleep or "down time" in the afternoon when thoughts of that day creep into my mind. There was one day this week where I cried so hard, screaming to God that I wanted my little girl back. I was sobbing and coughing and so incredibly angry. I ran out of energy and couldn't cry anymore, but I still hadn't finished getting out what I needed. It will take a very long time to cry all the tears I need to for my baby girl. I'm telling everyone to not expect me to get back to "normal" for AT LEAST one year if not longer. This next year will be a year of "firsts." Kailee would have been..________ right now...... This would have been her first Christmas, New Year's, her due date.....etc. All of these holidays bring up reminders of what we don't have.
There are so many people confused about why we're choosing not to celebrate Christmas this year. Honestly, we choose not to because we don't feel like it. It feels like a sham to pretend to be happy on a day that's just breaking our hearts all over again. On Christmas Day, if I want to scream to God and cry and hit things, I want to be able to do that on my own turf where I won't scare anyone. (Brent doesn't count!) Grief is messy, it's scary, it's hard, it sucks. It gives me mood swings, it makes me not think about other people, it makes me feel so alone.
As hard as it is to get through, I know I must. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that it won't feel this way forever. I can already see progress. I can go into public without bawling like a baby. I can look at little babies and smile. (Pregnant women still make me angry, but that will change, I'm sure).
My husband called me after a doctor's appt this week. He met a nurse who has been following Kailee's story. Someone came up to him and asked "Are you Kailee's dad?" How AMAZING must that feel? Someone you've never met before asking about your daughter who never took a breath in her whole life? Kailee has helped so many people. I am so privileged to be able to call her my baby girl.
It's hard to understand other people's grief. I know at least one person celebrating Christmas for the first time without their husband this year because he died. Today Brent and I were driving and saw her in her car. It wasn't until we saw the sad look on her face (almost a reflection of how I feel) that I realized that there are so many other people out there just trying to put one foot in front of the other everyday.
I have gotten to know several other mommies who have lost their babies this year on the same day they were born. We are able to really connect and understand how the others are feeling. I would recommend that to anyone grieving. Get yourself connected to people experiencing the same tragedy as you--- it helps.
I am surprised how many people just think that we're "okay." Brent and I cope so well in public--- we have to, or people might put us in the looney bin! I know at home, at least for me, the hardest time is in the middle of the night when I can't sleep or "down time" in the afternoon when thoughts of that day creep into my mind. There was one day this week where I cried so hard, screaming to God that I wanted my little girl back. I was sobbing and coughing and so incredibly angry. I ran out of energy and couldn't cry anymore, but I still hadn't finished getting out what I needed. It will take a very long time to cry all the tears I need to for my baby girl. I'm telling everyone to not expect me to get back to "normal" for AT LEAST one year if not longer. This next year will be a year of "firsts." Kailee would have been..________ right now...... This would have been her first Christmas, New Year's, her due date.....etc. All of these holidays bring up reminders of what we don't have.
There are so many people confused about why we're choosing not to celebrate Christmas this year. Honestly, we choose not to because we don't feel like it. It feels like a sham to pretend to be happy on a day that's just breaking our hearts all over again. On Christmas Day, if I want to scream to God and cry and hit things, I want to be able to do that on my own turf where I won't scare anyone. (Brent doesn't count!) Grief is messy, it's scary, it's hard, it sucks. It gives me mood swings, it makes me not think about other people, it makes me feel so alone.
As hard as it is to get through, I know I must. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that it won't feel this way forever. I can already see progress. I can go into public without bawling like a baby. I can look at little babies and smile. (Pregnant women still make me angry, but that will change, I'm sure).
My husband called me after a doctor's appt this week. He met a nurse who has been following Kailee's story. Someone came up to him and asked "Are you Kailee's dad?" How AMAZING must that feel? Someone you've never met before asking about your daughter who never took a breath in her whole life? Kailee has helped so many people. I am so privileged to be able to call her my baby girl.
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