Gifts From Grief
I never imagined I would be writing about the gifts that grief has given me.
We lost our daughter at 31 weeks and I went through labor to deliver a stillborn. That was four months ago. I feels like it just happened and also like it has always been a part of me. I can still remember vivid details about certain moments and then others I can’t recall at all.
Giving birth to a stillborn makes grief an ever present part of my day. There has not been a day that has gone by without me thinking of Clementine and giving birth to her. And to be entirely honest this is not necessarily a negative thing for me. Understand that I would literally burn everything I own to have my daughter alive and well, but her memory is not consistently full of heartbreak. I love remembering the way she kicked every morning when I woke up and each afternoon when my class was dismissed. I often feel the weight of her in my arms from when I held her last. I can take myself back to the last time I heard her heartbeat. These are heavy moments in grief and yet so life changing for me that I hold onto them with such love. These are the only things I am able to keep now... Grief’s gift to me.
In my last post I wrote about being numb. I still feel quite numb in many moments, but as I move forward with grief I am able to see places where I am actually filled with life. My emotions often bounce back and forth, but not very quickly. I am seeing that having a stillborn can push you through life in such an interesting way. I don’t feel as though I have much control over this except with my reactions. I think instead of responding with tears I simply go numb. And on the flip side of that I can also be so moved by things in ways I never have before. I am learning to regulate this by focusing on balance. In doing so I am able to feel the highs of life while still welcoming the lows.
I am prioritizing things differently now. My self care has become the most important thing… ever. Honestly, I know it is powered by my ego as I simply don’t want to break down in certain places… and all of that is OK. I currently feel as though I never have to go to another baby shower. If there is someone that drains me at an event, I refuse to be around them and decline the invitation. When someone asks why I am not joining in I reply with, “I am just not feeling it.” The interesting thing is that I felt this way before grief. But now it is socially acceptable as I can go be “sad” on my own. Most of the time I am not going to be sad, in fact I am living the life I’ve always wanted to live and now have the guts to say it. A gift from grief.
I relish in the moments around people that I truly want to be around. These simple spaces have become sacred and I soak it all up. Taking time out and actually paying attention to all of the details that I may have missed before makes me feel more alive. Seeing my husband’s eyes light up when I walk in the room gives me all of the love I could ever need. Talking with my mom about our recent books we’ve read connects us in a way that we’ve never really done before. My dad and I talk so much more than we ever did. I took a road trip with two of my best friends to see my third bestie and the tenderness and beauty felt on that trip encouraged my soul to work on healing. These situations were all things I wanted to be a part of. I chose them. Another way grief has given me a gift.
The little things are actively adding up to the big things. I am seeing it take place right before my eyes. I would recognize this before grief, but nothing like now. Now I feel a connection to these moments. I feel Clementine in them. I remember dancing around the house after she died and crying because I always wanted to do that with her. I still feel that sadness on many occasions, but as I accept her death more as time passes, I sense her presence more instead of missing her. I was recently at a concert where beautiful music was playing, the stars were out and visible and I could see the lights of San Francisco glittering over the water of the bay. I could feel that I am a part of something and that makes me feel close to Clementine. Grief is pushing me to feel more of her which in return is giving me a chance to feel more of this life.
One of the best gifts from grief is connecting me to others that know grief. This human alliance is a bond none of us wanted. And yet, because of this we are all kindred spirits now. One of my favorite quotes about this is from Stephen Colbert:
“You get the awareness of other people’s loss, which allows you to connect with that other person, which allows you to love more deeply and to understand what it’s like to be a human being if it’s true that all humans suffer . . . .”
Those that know just get it. I was at a bar recently and while we waited for our Uber we chatted with the bouncer. He was quite rough around the edges with his words as well as his features. He mentioned that his daughter died 12 years ago and my heart sank. I told him that we lost ours as well and he immediately softened. I held his hand for a second and we locked eyes. We know grief. I would have most likely never connected with this man on such a deep level without it.
Grief has given me an exclusive way to perceive the world. I miss my baby girl everyday, sometimes every hour, but she is showing me how to live in each moment. And just because I am finding the beauty in things does not mean that everything is OK. I don’t want others to join this club as it is rough and treacherous. Knowing pain like this turns everything upside down. But every so often, there are these tiny moments that pick you back up. These spaces were always there before but now can be seen for the beauty they always were. I don’t think that I needed grief to unlock the greatness in life, but knowing it is teaching me to be so much more aware.