Monday, February 9, 2009

Ripped Wide Open

Yesterday was a weepy day. Since Ezra, I find they come from time to time...sometimes anticipated, sometimes not. In the beginning every day was a weeping wailing day. More recently I've become accustomed to my consistent low mood, the deep emotional rollercoaster I ride every day, but tears don't fall quite as often; most days I'm able to pass for functional out in the world, granted in my new dull and muted way. Yesterday, even a passing thought of Ezra and the events of his life and death this past year made my eyes well up and sobs shake my chest. I've said it before, but the tears I cry for Ezra are like none I've ever known....I never realized it was possible to be this sad.

As time goes on, I have less patience for people in my life who for whatever reason can't be emotionally present with me on this journey. People who don't know about Ezra are hard for me too, and I find despite my better judgment, I end up telling them. Because for me, every day is an Ezra day...I think of him constantly and various emotions take hold. It's as if I have been ripped wide open and have no choice but to share what's inside...its all oozing out anyway. Since Ezra I feel every emotion so much more deeply, the deep sorrow that he is gone, the rage at the chaos of the universe, the fear that perhaps Ezra was my only chance at mamahood, the anger at those who have neglected us in our time of need. I also feel the positive emotions more deeply...my intense love for David has only magnified (if that is possible!), the gratitude for the family and (old and new) friends who have held us up on this journey, the joy when others remember our precious son, and the beauty I recognize in the world around me.

I recently received a letter from a wise babylost mama, written to me on the anniversary of the birth and death of her baby many years ago, which sums it up beautifully:

This reminded me of my many losses and grieving times. If I have any wisdom to impart, it is not from my years of graduate school, the books I poured over, or even the lessons from teachers in my formative years. It is the way I have somehow coped with death, suffering and adversity that has taught me how to live.

You and I appreciate birth and life differently than others. Once you give yourself time to be able to smile at a pregnant woman or baby carriage, it is possible to celebrate little moments of joy and grace with much greater enthusiasm. You are a very passionate woman, and I promise you that the grief will at some moment turn to love, and you will be able to feel a fuller sense of living than others who have not known loss can ever feel.

You and I, who have lost, know the importance of spending every living moment with greater intensity than others could ever imagine. We seize the day, and we know why.

I am not yet able to smile at a pregnant woman or a baby carriage...they are like land mines sprinkled throughout my life. But I know exactly what she means...since Ezra, I live life so much more intensely.

On Saturday I had the opportunity to meet in real life one of my online babylost mama friends. It didn't feel like meeting someone new, after reams of emails back and forth, it feels like we've known each other forever, even though apparently it has only been 6 weeks. Of course she is as lovely and compassionate in real life as I have already come to know. Our sad eyes reflected in each other as we sat and shared our sorrows, disappointments, hopes and expectations. Like everything else, the intensity of my friendships has grown since Ezra.

On Sunday, in an effort to both honor and not think about the birthday I never wanted, David took me to the musical Rent, which happens to currently be showing in Philadelphia. I loved Rent when it came out in the 90s, when I was still living in New York City, the only show I ever saw twice on Broadway. But over the last 5 months, the music has resonated in a new way, filled as it is with love and loss. Since yesterday was a weepy day, of course I cried at various points throughout the performance, which was truly fabulous. My favorite song from the musical is Seasons of Love. Yesterday I was also struck by Without You which seems to sum up loss and grief in such a meaningful way.

Today is not a weepy day, but its a low day...just feeling the intensity of the emotions, and taking it all in.

14 comments:

CLC said...

That was a wise thing that other mama wrote you. I know exactly what she means. Hang in there. There will always be days like yesterday (I assume) but hopefully there will be more days in the future where you will start to feel some happiness again.

Gal aka SuperMommy said...

It's like we're crying for all the sorrow in the world, past, present and future, our own and others', all at the same time. I think that's the truest meaning of the word compassion. Sending you lots of love, Sarah. Keep crying all you need.

Dani819 said...

Seasons of Love always gets to me, too- I start bawling as soon as they get to "How do you measure a life here on earth?" The message keeps coming back to us from so many different corners. Breathe. Love. Repeat.

erica said...

I've been having several weepy days myself lately, and what you say about feeling things more intensely really strikes home. So often now, things that would have bounced off of me, cut straight to my heart. Sending you lots of love.

Hope's Mama said...

You know I've come to realise we want to share our babies as much as anyone, it is not different because they are not here. The love still oozes out of us. But it is finding the people who are happy for us to share them, as most are not comfortable with our deep loss and sorrow. That's where a lot of my tears come from - sheer frustration as the world just wont accept our babies the same as all those chubby little living babies. Keep feeling how you need to feel Sarah.

Rach said...

There are crappy days. Sending you love on your crappy and not so crappy days. xxx

k@lakly said...

ISn't it great to meet IRL? I'm glad you have that connection, I wish I had more or any that lived near by.
The weepy days come out of nowhere sometimes. They take my breath away. At least you got out and did something that helped to lift your spirit, even if only the tiniest bit.
I hope the coming days are less weepy and more hopeful.
xxoo

aliza said...

i know that depth of crying, it's like nothing we've ever experienced. losing our sons is like no other experience. i feel ripped open as well. thank you for sharing the rent songs. they touched me as well and i could imagine the power of being there and seeing it all live. sounds like a good place to spend the day yesterday.

Funsize said...

No words, just hugs for you.

Aly said...

Wishing much peace to you and your family after finding your blog today.

From one bereaved mama to another, it is a dark journey but one that never has to be faced alone.

In loving memory of Keely,
Aly

PS-I adore Ezra's name!

Sophie said...

I can only echo what you and all your other commenters have said. I feel the same way.

Sending you thoughts of comfort on this low day.

Lani said...

oh sarah, i'm in the same boat these days. so sad, so weepy, so hurt, ugh, its just been like that lately.
sending you so much love,
xo

Monique said...

Every day is an Ezra day - beautiful. Sending you much love.

Carly said...

" and I promise you that the grief will at some moment turn to love, and you will be able to feel a fuller sense of living than others who have not known loss can ever feel."


I wish this for you Sarah.

Sending you all my love across the sea.

xxx