This, and all posts this week are in loving acknowledgement of our children that never got to be and of the dream and life we had to start to let go of on January 31, 2014.
Why so determined to grieve?
I found myself pondering one morning as I took a step back for a broader view of the organic holy war that bubbles through my insides. The “answers” were easily forthcoming.
I need myself.
Just as a woman’s living children are woven into her fabric of self, so is the non-existence of mine. As our losses intimately shape us, I would like to meet mine with open arms.
I need my health.
The last thing I need is an unloved ball of anguish meandering around inside of me. Grieving is healthy, the ticket to living the rest of your life instead of dying for the rest of your life.
I need people.
Although grieving initially isolates you, in the end it is harder to connect with others when you are out of touch with yourself.
But looming larger than anything was the deepest reason, over powering in its intensity.
I’ve been robbed of enough.
Of the joy of pregnancy.
Of the miracle of birth.
Even of the double line on the home pregnancy test.
Of a face.
And of a name to speak out loud.
Of trials, of tribulations, of milestones.
Of the role of guiding one through life’s challenges and letdowns.
Of a major bond.
Of the future of which I dreamed.
And even of a body to put in their casket.
Yes, I’ve been robbed of enough, so that final piece, that shrieking sadness and infinite desolation that hangs in my soul will be honored. And explored. And expressed.
Every last crumb that is left is mine for the taking. The profoundly deepened connection with self. The all too often impotent consolation prize of transformation. My truths.
So in the face of blank stares I will grieve.
In the presence of platitudes and rationalizations, I will grieve.
In the absence of “I’m sorry for your loss” and of acknowledgements of mourning, I will grieve.
In the midst of those chilled facial expressions that ooze “isn’t she “better” yet?” (And no, by the way, I’m not nor should I be), I will grieve.
In the presence of empathetic souls, open hearts and kindred spirits I will grieve. Amid the synergistic gift of abidance, I will grieve. And on a path lined with those who revere the healing process, have traversed places in themselves other than their minds and respect grief’s wisdom, I will grieve.
Not only has a line been drawn in the sand, a trench has been dug.
This exists. The loss of my children exists. And there is no absence of validation, no lack of reflection from the outside world that will stop me from mourning. No. This does not get taken from me. Not this time.
In defiance of a society who doesn’t think this is a loss, I will grieve.
In taking a stand for my broken heart and splintered soul, I will grieve.
And in honor of my 24 two and four celled wonders, for the love that came out of their creation and will continue to pour itself into the world, I will grieve.
Wherever the journey takes me, I will grieve. Whatever I have to pick up and drop off along the way, I will grieve. However long it takes, I will grieve.
I will grieve.
I will grieve.
I will grieve.