I have a lump in my throat. It's there all the time. ALL THE TIME. My new existence can be summed up as this: sudden outbursts of crying may occur. Yes, it sounds like a prescription drug commercial, but the truth is, grief does have all these side-effects (tears, sadness, anger, disinterest, etc.). I never know when the next outbreak will occur. It could be triggered by a certain smell; a certain note in a song; a picture; a sweet letter or e-mail from a friend; a smile from my newborn; a certain day of the month; a sad look on my husband's face. At any time, on any day, I can lose it. Now, the one upside of being a year(+) out already is that I can pull myself together afterward.
Some days are better and more bearable than others. Some events are still happy too. There's just that lump in my throat, and it's just too bad there's not a magic drug for it.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Drawing Courage From . . .
There are days when I feel like if world to came crumbling in on me, I wouldn't fight it or do anything to prevent it. It certainly has taken the emotional strength of every fiber of my body to get through those days. It's always nice when people tell me how brave I've been through our whole ordeal because on those days, when I feel so broken and bruised, sometimes I just need to hear it.
So, where does my courage come from?
First and foremost, from Dylan. The mere idea that Dylan "deserves a strong mom" has gotten me out of bed more times than I can even count. More often than not, I don't want to be sad because I know that that's not what Dylan would want either.
Then, of course, there's my husband Justin. He gives me the strength and courage to face every, single day and all the things that get thrown at me. He's amazing for all that he does and for all that he puts up with.
There's my mom, who's always been a personal hero of mine. We now have this unspoken connection between us, not only because I'm a mother now but also because I'm a babylost mother. My mom courageously battled through my brother being in a coma for years and having to make the heart-breaking decision to take him off life support. My brother was older than Dyaln when he passed, but in whatever form or fashion that it occurs, parents who lose children face the unfathomable. And I think that because we've both faced it now, it makes our mother/daughter bond all the more special and close.
Finally, I'm always encouraged by the love and support of family and friends who've been there for us through it all; who were there from the beginning and are still there now (even if it's been over a year); who have no expectations of us or how we process our grief; who don't wince when we talk about Dylan; who sent cards and e-mails; who called us up; or who just dropped by. Those are the people that, when you least expect it, give you little bursts of courage that mean so very much.
So, where does my courage come from?
First and foremost, from Dylan. The mere idea that Dylan "deserves a strong mom" has gotten me out of bed more times than I can even count. More often than not, I don't want to be sad because I know that that's not what Dylan would want either.
Then, of course, there's my husband Justin. He gives me the strength and courage to face every, single day and all the things that get thrown at me. He's amazing for all that he does and for all that he puts up with.
There's my mom, who's always been a personal hero of mine. We now have this unspoken connection between us, not only because I'm a mother now but also because I'm a babylost mother. My mom courageously battled through my brother being in a coma for years and having to make the heart-breaking decision to take him off life support. My brother was older than Dyaln when he passed, but in whatever form or fashion that it occurs, parents who lose children face the unfathomable. And I think that because we've both faced it now, it makes our mother/daughter bond all the more special and close.
Finally, I'm always encouraged by the love and support of family and friends who've been there for us through it all; who were there from the beginning and are still there now (even if it's been over a year); who have no expectations of us or how we process our grief; who don't wince when we talk about Dylan; who sent cards and e-mails; who called us up; or who just dropped by. Those are the people that, when you least expect it, give you little bursts of courage that mean so very much.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Had A Moment
This past Monday was my first day back at work from being on maternity leave with Faith. I had a great half-day reprieve when Justin brought me lunch and brought Faith up to work for a visit. So of course I took her around the office to show off our beautiful, new daughter. And of course, everyone was so excited about meeting her. But one of my co-workers cradled Faith in her arms and just started crying. She said, through the tears, "Oh Katrina, I'm so happy for you guys". And as my eyes welled up knowing exactly who we were both thinking about at that moment, I mouthed the words "Thank you" to her. It touched me so deeply to know that, even in the excitement of our new little miracle, our first miracle is not forgotten.
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