(Many thanks to the beautiful Angie for dragging my lazy blogging bum back to the blogworld through this incredible project.)
Typing "2 Years, 4 Months, 2 Days" brings back the shock and incredulity that flooded my mind in the early days. And those feelings still appear with some frequency. I can't believe I had a baby and that he lived for two weeks and then my husband and I held him in my arms as he gasped his last breaths. I still can't believe it actually happened. I work hard to remember every detail of his two weeks. I fear forgetting the smallest thing, forgetting the smallest moments of his short life that are all we have.
Honestly, I'm a bit overwhelmed when contemplating where I am, because so often, I'm all over the place with my grief. I think this would surprise many, to know that I am still grieving deeply, aching often, and missing my Cayden with all of my heart. Yet life is much better, much easier, nearly two and half years since his death. A large reason for that is Severin. I am so eternally, deeply grateful for this little boy who fills our house with laughter and smiles. Not a second goes by when I don't appreciate the incredible gift we have been given by having a live and healthy child in our home. I hurt for friends, babylost and not, who hold dreams of babies, real and imagined, only in their hearts.
I cycle in my grief. Evenings are hard. As I rock Sev and read him stories before bed, I fight back tears most nights. Sometimes they are tears of longing, sometimes tears of gratitude, but it seems that is the place that my grief manifests itself most often these days. Holding and rocking Cayden was the only way we held him, so the psychology major in me is not surprised that this triggers such sadness.
But sadness is no way dominates my life anymore. Rather, gratitude has taken its place. I am grateful for my family, our health, my amazing friends, my important work, nature. Cayden's death illustrated how quickly life can change and I'm determined to appreciate it all. I have more moments of sheer happiness now than I did before Cayden died. That suprises me, because I also feel that I will never be truly happy again, given the jagged hole in my heart. But feeling deep pain seems to have also enabled feelings of extreme joy.
I have little patience for those who care more about the birth experience than a healthy baby. I am irked by those who assume pregnancy and live babies are the only outcome. I despise seeing parents take their children for granted, or acting harshly towards them. I am completely comfortable telling, or not telling, people about Cayden. For a while, I needed to tell everyone. If I were asked "Is this your first?" when pregnant with Sev, I would never have said "yes", but I now know that not telling someone about Cayden doesn't diminish his life like I once thought it did. I feel sometimes like I am the resident "dead baby mama". On a local moms message board I answer nearly all the posts asking, "How should I support my friend whose 36 week old was stillborn?" or "What should I do for my friend on her first mother's day after losing her baby?" I volunteer as a back-up contact for families who have lost babies and I've supported bereaved parents through email support. I want to pay forward the incredible support we received after Cayden died and I look for ways to do this within the babylost community.
The babylost community has brought some amazing people into my life, many lifelong friends. And it goes without saying I wish we'd never met. But my life has been truly enriched by these friendships and the support they provide. I don't get time to visit blogs much anymore, but I think very often of those I've been lucky enough to meet on this journey. And I've also been fortunate to see most of my existing friendships strengthen and deepen. The people in our lives, overall, have been amazing. We are so lucky.
So where am I? I'm happy and I'm sad. I'm grateful and I'm devastated. My days are more sun than rain. My heart is lighter, except when it's heavy. Grief has seeped into every fiber of my being, but that doesn't upset me. I am comfortable with my new reality, my new life. I did not imagine it could feel this much better in two years. I cannot believe it's been two years. I still cannot believe Cayden died.
support group
10 years ago
