Saturday, September 5, 2009

Those Early Days of Isolation

Of course the feelings below aren't all reflections of true statements. But they do reflect, I believe, the true range of emotions parents go through after losing babies. There is much scattered, apparantly random thoughts. But we are complex, aren't we? All these thoughts and feelings exist at simultaneously inside us. I hope others in pain may feel less alone when they catch a bit of themselves in where I was less than a month after our second baby was buried.

August 4, 2009
I hate August, by the way. Never a month I wanted to have babies in. At least there’s that...

Tonight I paid bills. Under the “play” section I entered in: Hawaii. The entry before it said: Fetal Doppler, 90.00. It jumped out at me. Life can change so fast. The course you are on can be jolted from under your feet and suddenly you can be reeling to catch up with the new place you’re journeying to.

A voice in my head says, Get over it, Kelly. Everyone else has. I spoke with ***for a minute tonight and she told me how she’s trying to fix her Xbox because Lost comes thru it and she can’t live without watching Lost. I hung up quickly. She’s over it. Everyone’s over it.

But I am consumed with my pain. Maybe I am selfish in it. I want people to care for us. I want someone to give up some of their time or resources for us because that shows me the Claire has altered their life. But often what we get are cards in the mail with brief cliches that slide off my skin.

I am startled by how I can’t talk to my friends. ****’s visit showed me that. I sat silent and counted the minutes til it was over. I called ****tonight and - wow! – I had to force out every line. I am perfectly functional to my kids and Blue, but to everyone else, bam: I am like a freak .I called **** tonight out of moral determination. Being so left alone teaches me how important it is for family to be there.  In times like this you need your family to carry you through. It hurt so much that family went vacationing the week after Claire died. Not having them there makes it all the harder, drives the pain deeper.
 Family roles and traditions are more than quaint activities. They are vital to the survival of families. Even if it's just sitting on the couch with the suffering. It matters. It lasts. It builds a stronger family unit.


Monday, our last day in Hawaii, our car battery completely died. We don’t know anyone in the city. A simple jump turned into a nightmare. Our rental company would charge us 50.00 to come jump us – apalling. A man parked next to us while Blue hashed it out (politely) on the phone. He said he didn’t have cables and stalked off quickly. After an hour a nice looking old couple was parked close to us in the garage and had jumper cables! Tada! Light breaking thru. The man said he had them, but he would not give us a jump. He and his wife put on their huge black sunglasses and drove away.

Pray, I thought. This is when you pray for help. Show your kids how to deal with these sticky situations and trust that the Lord will send aide. I told the Lord to Go to Hell. He slammed my prayers and life right into hot concrete. Why would I ask for his help now?

I could not do it. I could not do it. How disappointed the Christian world must be in me. Sometimes I am shocked at my own angry vigor. But as more and more of my life slips away, any control on my side in vain, the anger grows. Nothing is so sacred to me as children. Nothing has ever mattered more to me in all my life, in the deepest parts of me that dream and vision, than a little functioning family. So sacred, so shattered.

I really feel like people who have lost their deepest dream can identify with what I feel, what I carry inside me each day. Not everyone has lost what they valued most. This is a quite isolating place to be. People build relationships on commonality. When that is gone, everything is a little harder. It’s a little more forced. I am back into the moral obligations of society that I referred to. I can not love some people spontaneiously by the ties that bind, so I make ties.

I went to Hawaii to bleed out some of my pain on it’s sacred land. It’s almost too pretty to taint that way, but in it’s vastness I feel that it can handle the blood from my tears. Now, home again, my insides are ripped open. It’s so hard to be home. Books say don’t do anything major for a year after losing a child. You just can’t think right. I don’t care. I want out of this house because everything about it slaps me in the face. Here’s the family taken from you. Here are the broken dreams. Here is a most strenuous physical effort endured in vain. Here are where you dreampt up your babies and where you grew them and where you prepared for them, and where you cried wanting to be a better mother for them. And here is where you walk empty without them each day: Once before, for Jackson, in a noble effort to get up and get on with things. Now you drag on alone, devoid of the hope and forward pursuit.

I feel so lonely here. It’s quite overpowering. I feel so sad and so alone. I work for my kids but they are in bed now and so it’s just me and this pain again.

 My health has been taken. I stood and watched while the kids and Blue played in Hawaii. I tire quicker. I am 15 pounds overweight. I feel like an invalid. My children have been taken. Many, many of my loved ones have been taken. What else? Lately I am like a scared child in a corner afraid to go out and live in the world because I know the pattern. I feel like the part of me that was a risk taker is extinguished.

Blue was offered the job we've prayed for for a year. The offer came while we were in Hawaii. I am scared to make the change. It’s everything I wanted! For so long I wanted this. But now I have to trust Blue in the intuiting if it’s the right thing. I can’t feel it and go with it right now. I feel like, why look for the signs? I had them with Claire and it turned out opposite of what they indicated. I can’t place trust on intuition anymore. But that is all I am, intuition. That is how I have always directed my life.  So now without that I am lost.
Lost.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

Thank you for bravely sharing what you are going through publicly. I can't explain how much it helped me to read other women's accounts of their miscarriages after our two last year. I'm sure your documentation of this journey will help others feel not so alone when they are going through a similar situation.

The Porter's said...

Kelly, I am so sorry to hear about your beautiful little girl. I can't even imagine the pain and heartach you are going through. I just wanted you to no that i have been thnking about you, and when i pray for you i will pray for you to have the strength to get through another day. Feel free to talk about what your going through. I will always be here to listen. It's hard to forget. I hope you have an amazing week.

Melinda said...

Kelly,
Oh my, I'm not sure why some people are made to suffer so much loss. You are in my prayers and heart.

Jeni said...

I found this poem online

I thought of you and closed my eyes,
And prayed to God today.
I asked what makes a Mother,
And I know I heard him say:
A mother has a baby,
This we know is true.
But, God, can you be a mother,
When your baby's not with you?
Yes, you can he replied,
With confidence in his voice.
I give many women babies,
When they leave is not thier choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for a day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But theres no need to stay.
I just don't understand this God,
I want my baby here.
He took a breath and cleared his throat,
And then I saw a tear.
I wish that I could show you,
What your child is doing today,
If you could see your child smile,
With other children who say:
We go to earth and learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.
I feel so lucky to have a mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My mommy set me free.
I miss my mommy oh so much,
But I visit her each day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
"Mommy don't be sad today, I'm your baby and I'm here."
So you see my dear sweet one,
Your children are Ok.
Your babies are here in My home,
They'll be at heavens gate for you.
So now you see what makes a mother.
It's the feeling in your heart.
It's the love you had so much of,
Right from the very start.
Though some on earth may not realize you are a mother,
until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day,
And you'll know that you're the best one!
-Author Unknown

Los Torrientes said...

Kelly and Blue,
After hearing about Claires death, I have been looking for a way to contact you and reach out to you. I no longer have your address, #'s or email, but Ryan just told me about this. I wanted to respect your space and mourning.

I love your family so much and have been grieving in my heart with you as soon as Ryan called me. I was crying so hard that I couldn't talk anymore and had to hang up and call him later. Eddy came into the room, seriously concerned to find me in a devastated heap on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably for your family and your loss. Once I was able to tell Eddy he just sat, deflated, next to me and held me and prayed for you. I can't even type this without having to pause to compose myself. I have nothing to offer you guys. Nothing. And I hate it. I wish that concern and love and prayers and constant thoughts for your welfare and survival could ease even the smallest amount of your tragic burden. I feel, as many others, I assume, helpless in my desire to do that. I just wish that my sincere love and desire to share your burden could help you in some way. For what it is worth, I want you to know that, yes my life is going on, but it I have been changed as a result of what you have gone through. Unimaginably, twice.

I know it sounds so insignificant, but I am one random family friend who's life sincerely has changed because of your honesty in sharing these experiences. As a couple, we pray for you each time we pray. We've done it since you lost Jackson, and we will continue to pray for your strength. I pray for you every day with Merrick while I hold him, and when I go to see him sleeping before I go to bed. I pray a prayer of gatitude that I have him at this moment, and I feel that gratitude deeper than I would have before. I keep you in my conciousness and hold a place for you continually.

Knowing you has literally transformed my experience as a mother and a person. Each second. The gift that being a mother is, more prominent and respected. I am more grateful, patient, concious, thoughtful and loving to others as a result. My desire to help and lift others, reinvigorated. I take those gifts very seriously and have you in large part, to thank for it. Your sacrifices, losses and suffering are remembered and honored with each gift of breath that we draw as a family.

Monique said...

Sending much love & hugs. I'm so sorry. xoxo

Angie said...

I am so sorry for your losses. I will send an e-mail to you later today. HUGS!

Bri said...

Kelly, I just now realized that you've started your blogging again.
I know this sounds strange, but it's so beautifully written and illustrative for me, and I don't know quite what to say about it. So eloquent, the way you describe relationships between people and how they function and change and splinter.
You are right...nobody knows what the right things to do are at this point. I so wish that wasn't true, but alas.
I know you are helping others who've had this devastation, but you're helping the people around you just as much, and maybe even more. There is absolutely no way that, instinctually, people without your experience can be there in the ways you need. But reading this gives me a much better sense of where you are. So, thank you for taking the time and effort to write it out. Sending you love.

Steffanie said...

Kelly-
I am just now getting into the Blogging game and realized that you had one, so I thought I would check it out.

I want you to know that your experiences have changed our lives. We keep you in our prayers, and here's the thing...We have never been good at prayers until these tragedies. Your experiences have strengthened my family and a huge way.

I've often asked Joe if he thought there was anything I could have done to ease your suffering. I just don't know how. I figured giving you your space while you heal would be best. After Jackson when I saw you, you were so broken, and I felt I was intruding. I don't ever mean to intrude. I just want to help. If there is something I can do, please let me know. I want to help. I want to be there for you. I know I have nothing to offer you that can lessen the pain, but please Kelly...Just say the word and I'm there. Ok?

Love you.

Steff