Talking differently about hope

A gut-wrenching thing like child loss unites grieving Moms and Dads in a way that is so special and so unique to me, that I can’t even describe it other than these people are my best friends I’ve never met.  They are the first to respond when they see me post something happy somewhere, or even something sad (with a few exceptions).  Everyone’s journey in child loss is different.  Some things that I believe for me, or that I am working through, may not work for others, and vice versa.  But just to have that ear or that outlet with people who understand is so comforting to me, when no other comfort is really out there besides cognitive therapy.  And maybe, just maybe, you are telling someone something they may not have thought of, and its helps them through the day, because honestly this is a highly complicated and horrible deck of cards to be dealt. 

I would like to start sharing a bit of what my last sessions have been like and what I am able to muddle through this “beautiful mess of a life” almost 5 years after losing my babies.  I want to start blogging again, and I hope this is one of many posts that I can come write, because I do know it helps.  I am certainly going to try, and try is all you can do.

Hope.  Hope was a good thing.  Until now, until it pertains to my trio in Heaven.  The word hope has been connected to my babies since October 2008 to the present.  Anytime anyone has said I will have to “let it go” or “get over it”, I knew they meant the whole ordeal, and that, my friends, is UNACCEPTABLE.  However, letting go of hope, as suggested by my therapist, is what I am currently working on, the word hope.  I would never let go of this whole ordeal, ever, because that would mean I was letting go of my babies.  It’s the emotion of hope, not my babies, that keeps me from stepping a few steps forward in the past couple years.  Let me explain.  I have many regrets, and a lot of guilt about those days that I should have done more.  Well, since you can’t turn back time, you have to work on what happened and try to live with it, which has been difficult to share for many reasons.  One thing I will share finally, is that I was unable to look at my children after I gave birth to them, even though I held their sweet precious warm bodies thankfully, I could not look, I could not let go of the hope I had even though I layed there on a hospital bed in shock.  My husband took over that job very humbly and gracefully, and I am forever in awe and grateful to him.  For looking at them passed away would mean that I lost hope and that they were gone forever, and did not want to see them gone, because that would have meant I lost hope.  I have been hanging on to that hope for over 5 years now.  It’s time to work on letting hope go, because I won’t see them again for a very long time, and that is a lot of time to hold onto an emotion.  Besides, they are with me always in my heart, and I will never let them go.

 

Love, Nan