Month: March 2024

I wasn’t planning on posting again so soon but this blog is about more than just the sadness and heartache of surviving child loss. I started this blog as a way to process all the overwhelming and complicated emotions I was experiencing in the immediate aftermath of Ariella’s death. I initially was going to write just for me, but grief, especially complicated grief, can be a very lonely place and I thought it may be beneficial for others to know they are not alone in their sorrow. Grief can bring a person to a very dark place and I wanted to share that the feelings of wanting to die, of feeling like you lost your identity and purpose, feeling like there is no reason to live anymore, were perfectly normal and understandable. But as the title says, ultimately the blog is about living with grief. Showing the world how raw and gritty the grief is surrounding child loss AND about emerging from the darkness and moving forward (not moving on), learning to actually live again and enjoy life.

When I started this blog I felt hopeless. I was shattered and did not think there would be any way to put the pieces back together. There was only darkness surrounding me and I truly thought that darkness would last forever. I could not imagine that there would be a time where readers would eventually read about my hope, optimism, and yes, joy. I have been vocal about my recent struggles and I have also felt it important to share my triumphs. I write about them for me, so when I am back in a dark place I can look back and remember that I came through those tough times and will again. I write about them for my readers and fellow bereaved parents so they can know that it does get better, that they too will find moments of happiness and peace and begin finding purpose again. And I write them for all my friends and family, who worry about me, who regularly check on me, without whom I would not have survived.

All of this is my long-winded way to say that after writing and venting and some nonsense with some friends and of course a run this morning, I am feeling much lighter. I am not under any illusions that it is now going to be smooth sailing because if I have learned anything it’s that grief is a roller coaster (especially with the anniversary approaching), but I feel okay. I can face the world. I don’t want to hide. And I haven’t cried for a full day. Baby steps.

I want to start by thanking everyone who has reached out, checked in, made sure I’m ok or reminding me that it’s okay if I’m not. Especially those who have been persistent in letting me know you are there even on those days when I cannot even muster the energy to respond. It has not gone unnoticed and is the reason that I continue to feel connected with the world. Without those reminders it would be so easy to just bury myself under the blankets and hide from life. I appreciate it more than you can possibly understand.

I wish I was writing to say that I managed to drag myself out of this hole I’ve been in for the last month and a half. Unfortunately I feel like I’m pretty much in the same place and I fear I will be until May 9. No matter how much I try to distract myself I can’t help but relive those traumatic days in the ICU. The sounds, the smells, the machines, the tubes. The beeping. Always the beeping. Ariella’s constant anxiety and fear and sadness. The overwhelming nighttime routine. The helplessness, complete lack of control. The images. The ones forever burned in my mind. From March 8 through May 9. It was around this time 5 years ago that I reached my breaking point. And yet I had to be there for Ariella. And we endured so much more. Ariella endured so much more. Detailed memories of Ariella have started to fade which breaks my heart. It’s getting harder to remember the sound of her voice, the feel of her arms around me. But I cannot fucking forget those days in the ICU no matter how hard I try. I try to force myself to get out, to keep busy, but I haven’t been up for much. I cry. All the fucking time. I can’t seem to stop. And not just quiet, gentle tears escaping but full on huddled on the floor in the fetal position sobs. Or breaking down in my car. Or escaping to the bathroom when in public. I’m running. A lot. Pushing myself harder than I should but the pain from pushing my body to its limits is the only thing right now distracting me from the emotional pain. I just want to make it physically hurt.

I’m usually pretty good at pretending that I’m okay when I’m not. But much like 5 years ago I feel like I have reached my breaking point. Since February 18, the anniversary of the day we checked Ariella into the hospital for the BMT, the last day she was ever at home with us, I’ve felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness until I couldn’t hide it anymore. I unloaded on some friends last night who were not expecting it. Hell, I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t usually let myself be so vulnerable in person, especially with people I am not especially close to. Ironic I know because I put it all out there in this blog. But when I’m typing I don’t have to see people’s faces, their reactions. But I just couldn’t pretend anymore and I did appreciate the sympathy and kindness.

All of this to say I’m still struggling to find the light. It’s always been the anticipation of the dates that is worse than the actual dates. And this time of year is just 3 months of anticipating and reliving and desperately wishing for a different ending. But it feels so much harder this year. I’m feeling very very lost and alone and I really don’t like this place I’m in right now. I want to dig my way out but I just don’t know how. I’m hoping a change of scenery might help. I’m heading out of town in a couple of days. But I am stepping way out of my comfort zone, anxiety be damned, and traveling solo, which is a new experience for me. I feel like it can go one of two ways; be absolutely incredible or a fucking disaster. Stay tuned.

Something I have become good at over the past 5 years is pretending to be okay. Yes I’ve been open and vulnerable and shared my most raw and visceral feelings, but I’ve also become adept at sliding on that mask and smiling through the pain even when it threatens to drown me. Whether I’m freely expressing my emotions or burying them deep inside depends on the situation, who I’m with, my general mood, whatever. Sometimes you just have to be okay, even when you’re not. Which is something that I am struggling with at the moment. I’m not sure why I’m having such a hard time right now. There are obvious reasons of course but I’m feeling in a way I haven’t felt since right after Ariella died. And in all honesty that frightens me. I was in a very dark place then and I feel that depression creeping toward me again, reaching out ready to pull me back into its throes. I never would have done anything to hurt myself but I also would have welcomed death with open arms. And I still don’t like to admit that anytime I was behind the wheel of my car I imagined driving off a bridge or into a tree, just to end the pain. I don’t want to be back in that place but I feel it creeping up on me.

I’m trying to live a normal life. I don’t want to wallow. Feeling sad and sorry for myself is exhausting. I want to return to when I was feeling optimistic, when I felt like there was a purpose to living again. I’m trying. I’m running, I get out, I went out for a friend’s birthday. But none of it distracts me from the darkness that is beginning to fold itself around me once again.

I’ve been called strong, inspiring, resilient, and brave, perhaps for merely surviving but also being so open with my experience. I don’t feel any of those things. I’m not strong for surviving child loss. There wasn’t any choice. My heart continued to beat against my will. And right now I just feel tired. I want to give up. I want to let the darkness take over. It’s only been 5 years. I still have a lifetime to go.