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Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Right Where I Am: 14 Months

Fourteen months. It almost feels impossible that so much time has passed. I survived a year, I keep surviving. It doesn't seem like much, breathing in an out, trying to hold things together enough. At the beginning, the months went agonizingly slow. I just wanted to be further down the road. further away from the pain. All of a sudden, here I am with a new baby at my breast, wondering if he's anything like his brother might have been.

And guess what? It still hurts. Just as deeply as did before. The difference now I think is that it comes less often, I'm more distracted and I can hide it better than I did before.

To be perfectly honest, though, I am also happier. The lows are just as low, but the highs are higher. I drink more deeply from the happiness of my children. My smiley baby certainly does a lot to extinguish my pain.

There are moments that jump up at me and I have a flashback to that terrible night he came out the wrong way. The pain and fear are palpable and so very fresh. I am not sure that I will ever forget that. A sort of personal flashbulb memory. The sights, sounds and smells that night come back in very real ways.

My view on why he died has changed a bit, and my faith in God has increased. I still
wish for him, but I know it's just a passing thought. I know I can't have him now. I know it and yet I still imagine what he'd be like.

For a long time, I refused to think that his little brother looked like him, for fear that I'd replaced him. But his brother does look like him, and I get a glimpse of what might have been. Sometimes I catch sight of a little boy toddling around and remember, but my son isn't there. I feel like I will imagine what he'd be no matter how long its been.

I know someone with children my age who lost her son after his birth. I wonder if she's imagined. I would bet she has, counting the years silently. Silently, because people don't really care to hear about it for the most part. Those who do are certainly treasured. But unfortunately, the path of grief is often quite lonely.

And that is right where I am. 14 months later. Full of Joy and sadness and everything in between.


Join the conversation. Link your blog to Angie's blog and let other babylost parents know where you are in your grief.

7 remarks:

Hope's Mama June 1, 2011 at 6:22 AM  

Thank you so much for joining in. I lost a daughter and had a son 15 months later, and I was so surprised at how similar they were at birth and in his early infanthood. It caught me by surprise, and still does on some days. Their pictures hang on the walls and many who enter our house still ask who is who. Both lovely and heartbreaking at the same time.
So sorry for the loss of your precious Phineas.
xo

afteriris June 2, 2011 at 11:08 AM  

It is lonely, isn't it? I often worry that people are just terribly bored of me and my grief. That's partly why I'm so grateful for the internet, it makes a big difference knowing other people share my experience.

erica June 4, 2011 at 2:39 PM  

Thank you so much for sharing this. I wonder if those flashbacks ever go away.

I was both relieved and disappointed that Teddy's sister didn't look like him when she was born, but about a month later she was sleeping and I saw such a strong resemblance that it nearly bowled me over. Thinking of you and your family and sending love.

brianna June 4, 2011 at 6:03 PM  

I think it is so true when you say that the lows are just as low but the highs are higher. I have found that to be the case with me as well. Thank you for sharing your story.

Catherine W June 14, 2011 at 4:43 PM  

It doesn't seem like much It might not seem like it but I think it is. That's a lot of breathing in and out and, like you, I found that the first few months passed agonisingly slowly.

As Hope's Mama has already said, I'm sure the resemblance between Phineas and his little brother must be heartbreaking at times but, perhaps, also beautiful.

I'm so very sorry for the loss of your little boy. x

Fireflyforever June 21, 2011 at 8:09 AM  

Visiting from Angie's project.

"It doesn't seem like much, breathing in an out, trying to hold things together enough."

It doesn't seem like much, but, as we know, sometimes it is the hardest thing to do.

And the flashback moments - yes, I wrote about those on my contribution to Angie's project too.

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