Today we are acknowledging the dark and light sides of grief. The ugly and the beauty. The bitter and the sweet. The anger and the peace. You might want to write about the moments when everything falls apart or maybe the moments where our eyes were opened to the gifts that this journey had in store for us. Maybe you just want to write about both.
Aside from the first few days after our loss, one of the worst days I had was about three weeks after. Sleep was having trouble finding me. When I closed my eyes to sleep, I would just replay the entire thing in my head over and over. One night I had a lot of trouble falling asleep, so I ended up staying up the whole night. The next morning my husband had a 5K he was running, so I went with him. The last 5K he had done was when I was still pregnant, so I was having troubles going, being there, knowing that I was pregnant then, and now I was not. My husband and his friends all ran that race in honor of Kayla, they all wore bracelets with her name on it.
Between not getting any sleep, and being extra emotional that day, it was not a good day at all. When the race was over, we went home and I took a nap. I woke up feeling even worse than before. I was indecisive, nothing sounded appealing. It was my brother's birthday, so my family was going out to eat to celebrate. I wanted to go, but it was also the last thing in the world I wanted to do. My dad called to see if I was going, and the second I heard his voice I burst into tears.
It was truly one of the worst days in my journey. I was no stranger to grief. One of my friends in the first grade was hit by a car and killed, my mom had died several years prior, I had lost both of my grandparents whom I adored the previous summer just weeks apart. I felt armed with knowledge, knowing that I had gotten through those things, I could get through this. I knew it wouldn't always hurt that bad. But that day, my heart just wasn't getting the message. I felt like I was at rock bottom. I couldn't see a way out, all I saw was darkness and I couldn't figure out how I was ever going to feel better. How on earth was the pain ever going to go away? I couldn't see it. I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Despite knowing it, I couldn't convince myself that day that the pain would ever subside.
The other dark part that I struggled with so much, and still do to this day was the senselessness of it all. The anatomy scan revealed that our baby girl was perfectly healthy, the tests done on my placenta didn't show any reasons for my pre-term labor aside from the fact that my cervix dilated too soon. My sweet baby was healthy, there was nothing wrong with her. She could have been born in July, she could be here on this earth right now, she could be a happy, healthy, giggling 2.5 year old right now, but my body couldn't keep her safe until then.
It is bad enough to feel the grief of your child dying, but even worse to know it was your fault. I know there was nothing I could have done, I didn't chose it and I didn't want it to happen, but it was my body that failed to keep her safe, and that has been one of the absolute hardest parts to deal with.
The light sides of grief.....I'm going to have to think about that one. I am not sure I am convinced there are lights sides of grief. I mean, of course there is my rainbow Emily. But had Kayla been born, we would have never known Emily and we would have been perfectly happy with Kayla. So I would guess I would have to say the light side of grief is the love and support we got from friends and family. Knowing how much we were loved, how much our baby was loved, and how many people weren't just sad for us, but grieving with us. My inlaws, my stepmom, my best friend, they all came. They didn't ask if they should, they didn't wait to be invited, they just came to hold our hands.
They asked what specific things could be done. Phone calls to make, arrangements to be made, errands to run, they just showed up and did it. I can never thank them all enough for being there for us, but I also know I don't have to. They were all there in a heartbeat. They let us know we were not alone, and they grieved with us. There is no greater gift than people loving and remembering my daughter.
Getting back to be thankful for Emily....I would be thankful for her no matter what, and of course she doesn't erase the pain of losing Kayla. But a light side of grief is when you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and for the first time you know it is going to be ok. The grief is still there, the pain is still there, but it doesn't consume you anymore. Your desire to love again is greater than your fear of losing that love. There is a quote that I love about grief, it is from the show Six Feet Under. A bereaved granddaughter asked, "why do people have to die". The funeral director thought for a moment and answered, "To make life important".
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