Laughter, friends, and 'good' for a couple days. And then...
That awful dream. My hands were holding only a tiny skeleton and ashes.
And the picture/post on facebook that I shouldn't have read, but did. My breath catches every.single.time I see one of those pro-life pictures of a 12- or 18-week baby. Or a newborn on a ventilator. But this picture - this one was of a 24-week preemie baby laying on her mom's chest, skin-to-skin. The doctor's had no hope that she would live. So the mom wanted some time just holding her baby.
Sounds familiar.
But then I read this part: (And WHY, you ask, did I read it?? Good question.)
"This is indeed a miracle baby," adds the doctor, "and I have seen nothing like it in my 27 years of practice. I have not the slightest doubt that mother's love saved her daughter."
*That mother's love saved her daughter.*
It's an absolutely beautiful story, a miraculous story, and I am genuinely thankful that that little girl survived - that that mom didn't have to bury her child.
But what I do with that last statement... 'that mother's love saved her daughter'... I turn it into a statement of condemnation for myself. And if I'm being honest, I might even twist it into a statement of condemnation for Someone Else.
Not gonna go there right now. A couple kids need (more) breakfast, I (really) need to get ready, the picture of the skeleton in my hands is demanding (emotional) attention, and it's the 10th. Funeral Day. My attention and my heart are being pulled in enough directions. If I can help it, I won't add guilt and anger to the list.
What he said reflected how he saw it, not necessarily the true reality. Elliana's mom by no means loved her too little to save her life. One day she will tell you that nothing could have been better than her time from conception to birth. She knew unconditional love then even as she does now.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Daddy. :-)
DeleteIt's an absolute rollercoaster. The awful dream sounds so very awful.
ReplyDeleteThe dream *was* awful. The part I remember is awful. And the parts I don't remember were awful, too. And it's awful that I can't remember most of it. I love to dream about her, but it hurts, too.
DeleteMakes no sense to anybody but people who've been there, huh?
Guilt. Yep, I get that too. It was painfully, terribly sharp for a long, long time. I wondered what I could have done differently in order to get a different outcome. And the "happy ending" stories that are ALWAYS in my face just push me up against that sharp corner of guilt.
ReplyDeleteLuckily, with a little bit of time, and with the wound still there but not as raw or fresh, I have been able to find a little bit of a different perspective, and the guilt is not as heavy now as it was. But it still comes up.
It sounds like you have your hands full. Take care of yourself, mama. Do something nice for yourself. <3
Hands full - yes. :-) So many demands for time and attention. The counselor I've been seeing is right - grief is a full-time job. It demands attention, just like my living children do. It's exhausting.
DeleteIt's good to hear that the wound doesn't always feel this raw.
You take care, too. Have done something nice for *you* lately? :-)