this is who i am. this is my story; we all have one. i’m going to talk about things that aren’t pretty. i’m going to write it down because it’s real and it’s true. we all lose someone or something in our lives. we all become raw and broken. it is then we choose: to put a band-aid on it and move on, or to stop and take time to feel, to be really damn sad for however long we need. today i am remembering my three angels. my three stars in the sky.
it has been two years since my first miscarriage. since then, two more. i still grieve. i can’t imagine my life when i won’t feel the sadness well up from a depth i didn’t know i had within. i wanted to write about grief. when we choose to grieve, we make the choice to not only honor the deceased, but to heal our hearts. i have made a choice: no matter what the circumstances, i am going to allow myself to grieve. it doesn’t matter the time that has passed. i remember so clearly the pain, both physical and emotional. i remember the days after, being in a complete fog of depression. grief, like miscarriages, isn’t talked about openly. i don’t understand why.
i’m not going to apologize for being sad. i wrote about hard days here.
it’s in our culture to stick a band-aid on things that are broken and keep on going.
but you know what? i don’t want to get over it. i have lost something that can never be replaced. i move on but i remember. i move forward each day more than the last but i never forget. right now i’m sitting down right here on the ground and crossing my legs in the sand. i don’t care if it has been two years or two weeks. i will be sad.
i give myself permission anytime. permission to …
bang on the walls
don’t talk or do
stumble through your day
fall down. it’s okay
leave your broken heart open for awhile
do not try to fix it
do not try to save it
cry so hard and so long that it hurts your insides
and you fall down in a heap on the floor
cry until you don’t feel like crying anymore
and then cry again when you do
weep softly in the car on a drive
when you see a leaf falling down from a tree
each day i reach inside myself and touch the bottom of my pain and sorrow is a day that my heart heals just a little. the days and months after my miscarriages, i was fragile. my heart so raw and tender. but one thing i know for sure, grasping for support from people around and taking time to FEEL every single emotion. this is how i grieve. this is how i heal. this is how i move forward.
grief, loss, death. these are not tidy and clean issues. they are not neat little packages that we can put up in the attic and forget about. most of all, they are not simple.
as i write this, it is now raining. rain is beautiful and sad. it falls, it cleanses, and in time, it brings forth anew. i am big into rituals. i decided to begin one for my three loses. the husband and i decided to include our parents. each of us released three balloons. then i asked they send photographs of their balloon release.
i try to think that the measure of my pain relates to the enormity of my love.
if you are reading this, know that it does get better. there are days that i find complete happiness. you will too. the pain is always there. it is forever a part of me. i have to accept this. but it is okay. the pain makes up the person i am today.
i equate an umbrella to my life now. the umbrella is my miscarriages. i permanently carry it. under the umbrella i have happy days. i have made amazing memories. under the umbrella i will someday become a mother. my life now has a shadow of sadness and pain. it doesn’t mean i stop living. i doesn’t mean you do either. i mean, we live our life to the fullest. only under a shadow.
it is important to remember where we are now. and there is still beauty and happiness to be found.
which is something to always be grateful for.