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Thursday, May 24, 2012

Right Where I Am: 2 years, 2 months

Has it been a year already? Last year, I participated in Angie's Right Where I Am project and she has decided to run another this year. I am looking forward to being a part of this again and to seeing where others are. If you are a part of the babyloss community, I urge you to share where you are, too, here.

Twenty-six months ago, today, our third child was born. He died 9 days later in another state after existing almost entirely on life support.

I remember those early days, when I would wish myself a couple years in the future like other mothers were, wanting to escape the ever present pain I felt. I read in books about the stage of grief called Acceptance.

Acceptance.

How I longed for it and feared it. I feared betraying my boy. That accepting his death and my grief would not be keeping him present in my life.

I am there now. Acceptance. Not so scary as I thought. He's mine, he's present. He is a part of our lives everyday. I see his picture on our wall and now, there is usually a smile and a tear for my dear one. I see his image in his younger brother's face still sometimes while he sleeps. Little moments everyday, weaving himself into our new normal.

I imagine sometimes that my grief is like a well. Deep and dark blue. I go everyday to take a bit of it. Some days, I drink a little more deeply and I need that. Other times, the well overflows, and that's okay. It's my well and I can visit whenever I need.

I struggle, I cry. Today is a good day and those are becoming more common. Today is a day that I can rejoice in the person my Phineas is helping me become. In the life we are leading because of him. I still hope that I am the mother he needs me to be.


.................................................



19 remarks:

still life angie May 24, 2012 at 9:05 PM  

Thank you for sharing this. I related to you grounding us in the fact that today is a good day, but other days you cry. It is important for others to know that. Thank you, again. Remembering Phineas with you. xo

Angela May 24, 2012 at 11:25 PM  

Beautiful image of grief as a well we drink from. Thank you for sharing where you are.

Valerie May 25, 2012 at 3:02 AM  

You have a very lovely way of expressing yourself, I am no place near acceptance, I don't even want it right now. I wonder how I will feel if it ever comes.
Much love to you, Phineas and all your family.
Valerie
xxx

Curls O Fred May 25, 2012 at 9:18 AM  

Acceptance - I'm not sure where I'm at with that. You write it so well though. Thank you for sharing. <3

Sara May 25, 2012 at 10:08 AM  

Keeping present seems to mean continuing to let go. I'm not sure if that's part of acceptance or not.
I read this, not on the day you posted it, and hope it is another "good" day, honoring your feelings today, whatever they are.

erica May 25, 2012 at 1:12 PM  

I fight with the idea of acceptance all the time. It was good to read about how you see it, how it has come to you. Thanks for sharing this post. So much love to you and your family.

Catherine W May 25, 2012 at 1:30 PM  

Your children are so, so beautiful. All four.

I love your description of Phineas being woven into the life of your family, that there is a smile and a tear for your dear little son.

I like the idea of grief being like a well, some days we drink deeply, others only a small sip. And I agree, it's ok, whether we overflow or take only the tiniest amounts, those wells belong to us.

Remembering Phineas, I think he has an amazing mother x

Hope's Mama May 26, 2012 at 7:03 AM  

not sure what point it happens, but somewhere along the way the good days outnumber the bad, and I guess that can only be a good thing. It would be hard life to live if all the days were as black as those in the first year.
This was just lovely.
xo

Jessica May 27, 2012 at 9:09 AM  

You are a wonderful mother...I can feel love through your words...just beautiful. I too have reached acceptance. Here's hoping your journey contains many moments of happiness in the future as Phineas would want his mommmy to be happy :) Thank you for sharing.... <3

Josh Jackson May 28, 2012 at 3:08 AM  

Your son was born exactly a year to the day before my second daughter died. I thought this post was beautiful and I can relate to so much of it, both the acceptance and the sadness and the way that Phineas has woven himself into your being.

Thanks for taking part in this project.

Josh

Merry May 28, 2012 at 2:41 PM  

I wanted to say that I was sorry that I rounded on you once, quite unforgivably, when my hurt was so big and I had sunk to such a deep place. I have no idea whether I have apologised since, but I should have and I really wish I had been able to hold on to my grief better that day.

I hope all is well with you all and your Frederick James :) and that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being precious about a name that belongs to anyone who wants it.

Xxx

Kathryn May 29, 2012 at 12:16 AM  

Thank you for such wonderful, thoughtful comments. I am always overwhelmed be this community. In a good way.

I think sometimes I still bristle at the phrase "letting go" but perhaps it's all just semantics and that is what I am doing anyway.

I do indeed have more good days than bad, if I had written a couple days before, it might not have been so positive, I suppose we all have to take it one day at a time.

Josh- I did notice that your little one and mine shared a date. I thought of her and your family on his birthday, this year. I am more of a lurker than active participant in the community.

Merry- It is all forgiven. My heart still aches sometimes at the whole situation. Names are such tender things. I have a friend who used the same nickname we had planned for Phineas, and every once in a while, it stings to see it. I want you to know I think of you and your Freddie so often. I hope you have forgiven me too. Goodness, you have me in tears over here.

Arcadia May 29, 2012 at 9:10 AM  

Thank you for sharing this, you have a beautiful way with words.. I'm so sorry about your litle boy. Your four children are just beautiful. Thinking of you and Phineas.

J. May 30, 2012 at 2:58 AM  

Beautiful, touching post. You really captured that stretch along the road when the good days start to outnumber the awful ones.

"Today is a day that I can rejoice in the person my Phineas is helping me become. In the life we are leading because of him. I still hope that I am the mother he needs me to be."

This struck a chord with me. I hope this for myself too. With all my heart.

Remembering Phineas. ♥

Fireflyforever May 30, 2012 at 9:05 AM  

I remember feeling exactly the same about acceptance - longing for it and fearing it simultaneously. And you're right. It isn't as scary as it sounded.

I LOVE the analogy of a grief well - it's an absolutely spot on description.

Thank you for participating again.

Molly May 30, 2012 at 1:43 PM  

This resonates with me: "I imagine sometimes that my grief is like a well. Deep and dark blue. I go everyday to take a bit of it. Some days, I drink a little more deeply and I need that. Other times, the well overflows, and that's okay. It's my well and I can visit whenever I need."

Thank you for sharing that. It's beautiful and makes so much sense.

Sending you peace today.

TracyOC May 31, 2012 at 10:01 AM  

This is such an accurate description of 'acceptance.' It seems so daunting from far away but, when the time is right, you just slide into it and it's not what you expected. It's roomier and multi-colored, no? I think this is a post that everyone should read. Missing Phineas along with you.

Maria June 2, 2012 at 5:38 PM  

I'm sure you are exactally the mother he wants and needs.

thank you for sharing

Maria
xxxxx

Helene June 28, 2012 at 6:12 AM  

"I imagine sometimes that my grief is like a well. Deep and dark blue. I go everyday to take a bit of it. Some days, I drink a little more deeply and I
need that. Other times, the well overflows, and that's okay. It's my well and I can visit whenever I need." That's such a beautiful metaphor. I'm so sorry for the loss of your sweet Phineas. Wishing you light and peace.

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