This week has been a hard one. The weekend of 3 month anniversaries (death and then birth) passed with a certain numbness, but Monday morning felt like I'd fallen off a cliff again, down to the low blueness of it all. I've said this to a few people individually, but I just don't feel I'm fit for public consumption. I'm just too too sad to deal with the rest of the world.
It's been hitting me this week that the world really is moving on...holidays to be celebrated, babies being born, people trying something new. And I can't share the excitement of any of it. I'm not in a celebratory mood. Still doubting my ability to feel joy again.
But its not just the celebrating thats a problem. I'm finding it pretty hard to be excited about anything. Even projects that I otherwise would have enjoyed or found interesting before Ezra died. It all seems so mundane and pointless now.
Now that I'm back working, I interact with more people day by day. The people who know about Ezra and offer the guilty platitudes about how they were thinking of me and should have called (not interested people! i know who my real friends are now). And the people who either don't know or choose to ignore and say nothing. I'm not sure how anyone can expect me to function the way I used to. Still need that sign for my forehead that says 'my baby died and i am not, nor will i ever be ok!'
An Infertility/Loss Essay
8 hours ago
8 comments:
Sarah,
Again, I know there is nothing I can say. I'm really sorry that I didn't know your Dad was having surgery, but I'm glad he's alright. My parents just mentioned it a couple days ago. Although I can't imagine how you feel right now, I have been through my Dad with by-pass surgery and wish I could have had some words of wisdom for you.I'm thinking of your family....and am still here if you need anything.
Laura
When I lost George I was amazed that the world had not stopped and held it's breath instead of carrying on as usual.
It's so so hard and there are no words.
Hugs
it's so hard for me to believe that 3 months has gone by...people have traveled around the country, finished books, gotten pregnant, had babies, and babies are 3 months oder...life really has been going on but for me as well it's been so frozen. for 3 months i've been crying, grieving, freaking out...i still can't believe it's december.
no one can expect you to be ok or the same. you are not. and the world just needs to understand that we are bereaved mamas. i think it's amazing that you are able to be out there in the working world. i can hardly go to the grocery store...
I'm sending you big hugs and just know you have friends who think of you & Ezra every day. Lots of love,
Monique
Like Aliza, I'm not back at work and I'm a long way from it. I had already well and truly started my maternity leave so I wanted to see that out. Technically, I'm on leave until August and that's when my replacement finishes anyway. I just have to see how long we can afford for me to not be working. You are very brave Sarah, I have only been to the supermarket twice I think. One foot in front of the other xo
"It all seems so mundane and pointless now." Doesn't it? All the mundane day-to-day stuff feels like a waste of such precious time (and energy). A friend reminds me to try to find the small magic in each mundane day - the way light hits water, someone's smile walking down the street, etc. So that we're not sitting here waiting for a huge miracle, but noticing the tiny little ones. Sending you lots of love.
It just shit, isn't?
No other words really.
I am thinking of you and Ezra.
And when Alice died, I really couldn't believe that they whole world didn't stop. That the clocks kept ticking, and the sun kept setting. And that other people had smiles and happiness. How could they? I wanted to yell at them all. Some days I still feel like it. Some days I yell at nothing.
For me, three months was truly the hardest time. I still can't put my finger on why. It was just devoid of anything, my baby was gone, she was slipping into my past, and I had no future. I don't know how I lived through it. I am sorry you are there right now. I wish you strength.
Carol
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