The grief I feel for me

Just a couple of hours ago, I was able to catch up on recent postings of other babyloss mommas, which led me back to a consistent emotion of mine. The feeling of loss of who I was. The grief I feel for me. The me that was before. The me that will never be again. I know I have written before in various posts about this topic, but it rings so true to me each time I think about it. I think this is where I am now. This is the "stage" in grief where I look at myself and hurt for me. I obviously hurt for the loss of my daughter. I miss her. I miss the life that she would have here on Earth with me. And most of what I feel for me is because I miss her so very much, but it's a different feeling. This just isn't pain and aching for her. This is pain and aching for my life. The life I wanted. The life that I thought I had. The me that I wish I was.

On Reid's momma's post, "A minor epiphany in yoga class," she writes:

"All the babyloss books talk about dealing with the loss of a child but where is the book that tells me how to deal with the losing myself?
Where are the condolence cards for the loss of self?"

And she's absolutely right. Where is the book about finding your way to who you are? And how about those cards? Why isn't there one that says, "I'm sorry for the loss of your baby and for what you will go through because of it. I'm sorry that it will change your life immeasurably and never go back to the way it was before." Or maybe I just need the one that says something similar to what a high school or college graduation card would say, "Good luck on this next step in your journey called life." That one pretty much sums up the way it feels. The unfortunate thing about that last card is that when you receive it after graduation, it's typically because you chose to advance or make that change your life. This is not the change I wanted. I didn't ask for this life. I didn't ask for what has happened.

I think it hurts more when I look back and think about the simplicity of what life was like over 2 years ago now. I didn't really have a clue how everything (or so it feels) would just fall apart. I mean, sure...there were problems, especially with my marriage, but I was naive to it all. I was naive to life in general. Now, I sit here, and miss that. I miss that I'm not the girl who wants to spend every waking moment (or so it felt) with family and friends. I miss that I don't rejoice over every baby announcement that my friends make. I miss that there are people in my life that I just have no interest in spending time with anymore. I miss that simple, basic everyday joys don't have that safe effect on me anymore. I miss that I just feel heavy a lot of the time. Sad. Scared. Confused. Hurt. I miss that I'm just not "her."


Not the best pic, but look at that girl....she's happy. She's even happy-go-lucky. Who would have thought that about 4 years later, I would feel so different. Yes, time has happened. Life has happened. And maybe there's a level of acceptance that I just haven't reached yet. A level of acceptance of who I am today, instead of the grief I feel for the person I was. I can't go back. I have to keep pushing on. Living this life. Finding out what else is store for me. My hope is to keep finding pieces of that girl in the picture. And putting those pieces back together. I know I can't completely be "her" again. The picture will look different. Distorted. Blurred. Too much has happened. And like I said, life has happened. But maybe there will be a time when I don't grieve for "her" so much. Maybe there will be a time that I'm just happy being the me I am today. Maybe....

'Cause maybe in the future, you're gonna come back
You're gonna come back around
Maybe in the future, you're gonna come back
You're gonna come back
Oh, the only way to really know is to really let it go
Maybe you're gonna come back
You're gonna come back
You're gonna come back to me

-"Maybe," Ingrid Michaelson