In a beautiful post about a month ago on Glow in the Woods, Jen writes:
There are days that are darker than others. I want to call the office and be free to say, “Sorry, but I just can’t do it. It’s all meaningless don’t you see, because today I’ll be useless to anyone but her. She’s dead and I can’t bear to wash my hair and I really just need to stay at home to be with her.” I start to cry in the shower and hate the world for expecting me to stop and get on with it. The only her left for me to be with is not one anyone else understands.
This post could have been written by me today. Because after two days of crying on and off in my office with the door shut this week, Ezra and I decided that we just needed to stay home. Just needed time to stay home and be sad about all the things we'll never get to do together...the walks we won't have and the play time we won't get...the nursing he won't do and the friends he won't meet.
And Ezra and I are tired. Tired of hearing how strong I am or how good I look. We don't feel strong at all. We're tired of hearing people's excuses for why they didn't call or write or visit after Ezra died. An extraordinary number of people did, and for that we're grateful. My son knows he is loved and has an amazing extended community who loves him. But neither of us have the energy right now to deal with the people who didn't. Wasn't Ezra's life worth enough to take two seconds out of your busy day? It's not that we're angry at these people...we're just not interested...Ezra and I are working through enough right now without having to deal with other people's baggage. It's hard enough figuring out how to parent a dead child without adding others' expectations to the mix.
Mostly Ezra and I are lonely, and strange as it may sound, being around other people sometimes reinforces the loneliness. Grief is so isolating, because most (not all) people don't see what I see...that I carry my dead baby everywhere I go. He's with me at the office and in a meeting, on the bus and at coffee with a friend. And the people that love me and want me to heal don't seem to see that my heart is broken...forever. Don't be fooled by the occasional smile or laugh, or even the days when my mood is lighter...I'm still carrying Ezra in one arm and my broken heart in my other hand.
So Ezra and I are spending the day together.
Because Ezra needs his mommy.
And mommy needs Ezra.
We will be.
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