About four days before I went into labor with Maddie, my watch stopped. The battery simply died. In the time following Maddie's delivery, I somehow decided that was incredibly, I don't know, symbolic and poignant since my life stopped on that day. As the next week and a half or so wore on and I was trying to find some way to make this better, I decided that it would be equally symbolic to get the battery replaced. As the second hand started moving again, I felt some sense of disappointment - I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but nothing happened. I think I had hoped that somehow I could move time backwards and change things, or could move it forward to a time when this might possibly hurt less.
As everyone who has suffered a deep loss likely knows, there are all kinds of incredibly irrational thoughts that go through your mind to try and "fix" things. One of my most recurring thoughts over the past almost-8 weeks has been that if I could somehow concentrate all of my focus and energy into one point in space and time, I could somehow travel back through time and have my baby back, have my happiness back. Part of the grief process is just learning that it's okay to have these lapses, I think.
Monday, August 31, 2009
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6 comments:
Angie, as my therapist keeps telling me its ok to wonder and ok to want to change things. These are all normal. *hugs*
You're so right, Jess. I know it's impossible, and have given up on the "what if's" - the only thing I have control over is how I react. :)
How symbolic that the battery died. I remember wanting 'more' from little things and being disappointed that they didn't live up to my expectations. Just remember to take it one day at a time...sometime just one minute at a time.
You're so very, very right - those little things are what we just kind of grasp onto, since the big things are obviously beyond our control. I knew nothing would happen, but somehow... hoped. Totally irrational, but I figure this is my time to be irrational! Thank you so incredibly much for your wisdom. *hugs*
I used to to have to tell myself that the kids were upstairs sleeping and that is why I wasnt holding them, hearing them, etc... The idea that they had died was just too much for me to comprehend and, when I would, I would crumble. The days are better now, over a year later, but still, sometimes, I get those thoughts...
Oh, Michele, I know exactly what you mean. I peek into Maddie's room, and keep thinking that I'm going to see her in there. I know what you mean about things being incomprehensible - I still haven't fully wrapped myself around the idea of her urn.
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