In grief of any kind, you cannot possibly expect to be the same person you were before your experience.  But sometimes figuring out who the new you is is incredibly difficult.  After all, a piece of you is forever missing. A lot of us baby loss parents talk about “a new normal”…. and this is the same thing – it’s a “new you”.  Your personality, your appearance, your thought process, your hopes, fears and dreams have all changed now.  It’s like you’re a teenager all over again figuring out what to do with your life.

I believe there is truly a monumental shift after going through such a loss. I will never be thankful for losing a child, but when I lost myself, I found a different life, one that is more meaningful and one that makes more sense.

I spent months just going through the motions of routine and at the time that was what I needed as I processed everything.  Then I slowly started to return to life, and examine what that meant for us.  For my family, that meant a physical move out of the city we had lived in for a decade, a fresh start in a new place and a rebuilding of our lives. That helped, but I wasn’t able to find my “place”.  At first I didn’t understand or like the new me. I held two different jobs (not at the same time), but I didn’t feel settled, and I certainly wasn’t really happy, in fact they brought to light more things about my “new self”. The new me who was scared and lacked confidence, the new me who felt strained to make new friends in a new place, which before had come so easily. The new me who wasn’t sure I’d be able to be a good parent to my surviving children because of the one I had lost, and the new me who really didn’t know how I was going to make it through the loss. The new me who cried a lot and who found it difficult to be an optimist. The new me who had to bottom out before I could really come to terms with all that we had just experienced, even though I thought I had already done so.There wasn’t an “aha moment”. But those weeks and months made me realize that I needed to focus on me for a little while. I had focused on my loss for quite a while and vocalized it, but I hadn’t focused on rebuilding myself. Its incredibly important to realize that these are two separate things.  YOU are NOT your loss, though it’s hard to differentiate sometimes (especially in the beginning).

We often spend so much time in confusion and despair we get lost in the pain. We may try to go back to “normal life”, we try to make others happy, or we don’t do anything at all.  None of those options is good in the long run, because you’re ignoring yourself.

So I started being selfish. I didn’t care to appease people anymore. I did what was good for me and what I needed to do to be happy, which was to focus on my organization. With that, came opportunities and information that intrigued me.  The new me was motivated, and passionate. I found ways I could be an advocate for addressing and changing some of the issues I feel strongly about with my fellow baby loss parents. I formed meaningful friendships instead of artificial pleasantries. I lost weight and got rid of a large amount of anxiety that was hanging over me. I’m still navigating, and I think everyone will have their days that aren’t optimal, but I can honestly say that I feel the best I have since February 2012. I can feel the difference, and others have mentioned that its visible in both my appearance and demeanor, even with the missing piece of my heart that forever belongs to Delilah.

If you feel like you’ve lost yourself going through trauma of any kind, grant yourself time and patience. You will find a new you…..try hard to accept and embrace that person, whether you understand them or not. Eventually you will start to make some sense of everything, and you’ll find someone just as beautiful as before, with flashes of your former self, but different.

I’m fired up today people. Few things really grate at me beyond general annoyance at something, but today I am the passionate kind of infuriated that is making my fingers type faster than I can purposefully articulate a thought. So bear with me…. 

I’m mad that in a world of such advances in knowledge and practice, we’re sometimes just plain dumb.  Note, there is a difference between making a mistake and refusing to even CONSIDER that you have made one. I’m mad for the general public who has mental disorder labels put on them because a book says so, when what they really need is to be heard in a way that doesn’t involve just trying to “fix it” and “move on”.  I’m mad that what will truly help them is sometimes thrown off the map entirely because of a classification that they probably don’t actually even meet in any realistic terms.  Yes, there is a difference between Depression and Grief.  I’m mad at the doctors who refuse to actually “hear” their patients.

I’m enraged for my friends in the baby loss community who are subject to cruel and harmful words/actions (intentionally or not) every day, especially when it is by those who are supposed to love them.  I hate that some of these words/actions do irrevocable damage to our hearts and minds because we struggle internally with wanting to believe someone we trust or love has an answer to help heal us, but then realizing they don’t understand us, they’re not even listening, and they don’t care to. I’m mad for those of us who feel forgotten because those who we open up to downplays our experience or flat out ignores our loss. I’m sorrowful that as a collective group of people suffering a very real traumatic loss we can still feel so alone with our grief. I’m astounded that others try to put timetables for grief and healing on any part of the process. I’m angry that we try to project our own beliefs and experiences onto others, and even moreso when it’s someone in that community who should know better.  Sharing what you’ve experienced and what helped you is one thing, that may or may not be helpful, but it’s not the answer for everyone. I am me, and you are you.

I find it absurd that the following sayings even exist:

—“Time heals all wounds” – No it doesn’t. Not when you’re a parent.  You’re not healed, even when you’re functioning a piece of you will always be a little bit broken. Forever. You may be managing, but you’re not ever whole again.

—“It was God’s plan” – Really? I’m not even going to get into religion here…. That is their belief and it is wonderful to have (for THEM), but not everyone shares it.

—“We all have baggage” -again, really?  No *&^! I have baggage. I need my own airport for all my baggage from one single occurrence in my life of 34 years, and you’re going to try to sum it up like a relationship that didn’t work out?  This wasn’t one of us losing interest or giving up.

—“At least you…… [enter any seemingly positive thing here]” – No, there is no bright side to losing a child. Ever. Ever the optimist I tried to tell myself this during the first months…. “At least I got to spend some time with her”, but that didn’t make me feel better, it made me miss those moments more.

So I’m mad at all these things…..What am I doing to do about it (besides vent it out in writing form for your enjoyment)? I know I can’t single-handedly change the mental health diagnoses and criteria, and I cannot change some people’s attitudes, beliefs of actions, and I can’t always make people understand, but I will try.

What I will do is continue to do outreach and show compassion towards others who aren’t getting enough (or any at all).  I’ll find those who simply need someone to relate, on any level. I won’t try to fix them (though fighting that urge is hard, because I really do want to make things better for others, but some things you just can’t make better). I won’t tell them what to do next. I won’t tell them it will be OK or expect them to go back to being the person they were before. I’ll let them feel how they feel and share what they want to share, without judgement or expectation. I will understand that just like my thoughts here are my pictures of things I’m unhappy about, they have their picture of the world that they are trying desperately to adjust to. I will help them find others who share the same sentiment in getting them the support they need. I will not only listen to them, I will HEAR them for who they are, not who someone else says or thinks they should be.

Think of what our culture could become, what good we could do, if one by one we just made the extra reach towards showing compassion.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all used this term and not really meant it.  I am fine today (for real), but I am “fine” other days. “Fine”, the one word answer that can mean so many things…

“Fine” = I’m pissed, at something or someone, in that passive aggressive way

“Fine” = I give up/I’m too tired to fight/ I am exhausted of talking about this subject

“Fine” = I’m not really well, but I don’t want to share with you, so I will just pretend I am so you’ll stop asking me.

“Fine” = I’m not really ok, but I’m scared to share my true feelings with you because you may think less of me

Fine = I really am doing ok (at this moment)

I have a hard time communicating when I’m upset about something. I don’t like conflict, I never have and I certainly don’t like to cause it. I have always been the “peacemaker” and the appeaser.  I also don’t like showing insecurity, unhappiness, and vulnerability to anyone other than my husband, certain family members and my very very very close friends. Sometimes I use “fine” because I don’t want to burden others. I’ve been very vocal in sharing my feelings about Delilah and her death, but other things are not as easy as sharing the love I had for her and the sorrow of her absence here with us in person. Sometimes it’s my job to make others uncomfortable, because the nature of the subject is uncomfortable, challenging others to think about what they say and do in wake of trauma, taking away a stigma from discussing infant loss with the public. I’m pretty certain that ignoring bad things don’t make them stop. “That’s sad, but It will never happen to me”, until it does. BUT, I digress. “Fine” applies to so much more than just one sad subject, though “fine” can certainly appear during times of struggle with it.

Sometimes people say they want you to be open and honest, but then when you are they don’t really want to hear it, or they will say or do something to completely invalidate your feelings or call it “complaining”.  It’s not always malicious when they do so, but it is always damaging. We fear the follow up when we give the real answers. I believe that’s a big part of what perpetuates “fine”.  So we have learned to bottle it up and hand out “fine” just as easy as we say “hi”.  In some ways it feels like it has actually lost meaning.  Sometimes, saying “I’m fine” is simply a denial. It’s us lying to convince ourselves that we are ok in wake of trauma, or not yet acknowledging that one has occurred or lying because everyone else expects us to be fine. But “Fine” doesn’t really bode well for anyone in the long run.  It causes self-doubt and inner conflict.  It damages relationships with those you love.  It may get you through a moment, but that’s all.

SO here is your next challenge; Find one person who you know isn’t “fine” when they say they are, even if it’s yourself, and open the door to share. You can’t force them to, but you can give them the option.  If they do, you may learn something valuable. Don’t say “fine” unless you actually mean it.  If you are feeling sad, say “You know, I’m having kind of an off day”, or if it’s in response to an argument or anger at something/someone, voice your actual thoughts to what extent you can. “It really hurt me just now when this happened….” or “I am really struggling with…..” , etc.  I’m not asking you to unload your biggest life challenges to complete strangers, but I am asking you to see through “fine”, and to move towards fine. There are many ways to accomplish these things, and it’s entirely up to the situational use of “fine” and who you are interacting with, but I think you get my point right?  Ok, Fine.