7 months out - "Dear Kaidi"
Dear Kaidi --
I can't even believe that it's been 7 months since we met you. In some ways the time has flown and I can't believe it's been as long as it has. On the other hand, I can't believe it's already BEEN 7 months. Time sort of stopped for me the moment your heart did.
I've continued going to grief counseling as well as family therapy with your Daddy. I really thought I'd moved past the guilt I felt over your death, but it seems to come back like the ocean's tide. At times, there are pilings (my grief) that are fully exposed because the tide is out. They are black and gnarled. Some of them are broken and beginning to erode with the water that covers them about half of the time. They have other "life" growing on them and feeding off of them...fueling them to grow and thrive. They grow and thrive like the ache and hole in my heart do anytime we do something that you should be joining us for. I try to take comfort in knowing you will never know the pain of rejection or the evil in this world, but I selfishly just want you in my arms or to see you playing on the floor with your big brother.
He asks about you a lot now. When we went to look at Christmas lights, he was SO excited, but his first question was, "Where is baby sissy? Can she go too??" It both warms and breaks my heart that he asks for you. I want so much to just walk into what would have been your room, scoop you up and say, "Here she is! Let's go!" But instead, I once again have to explain that you love him but you couldn't stay with us. Every small baby he sees is you to him. I always pray that when he calls some stranger's baby "Baby Sissy" or "Kaidi" that they won't ask where his sister is. Of course, I would put on my bravest face and tell them your story, being sure that we are glad we got even the 40 minutes we did. While it's true that we are grateful, it's also a lie. It's a lie because I didn't just want 40 minutes. I wanted a lifetime.
I got my nails done last week, and a mom brought in her little girl. She was 3 and dressed in the most adorable outfit, with a huge bow on her head, which was full of blonde hair. She was so excited to get her nails "done pretty". Her mom didn't have anything done while she was there, but sat beside her and "ohh-ed" and "ahh-ed" over how pretty her nails were. I made myself go over and do the same, but when I looked at her, I saw your face and saw the things we'd never do together. Things like taking you to get your own nails done, buying you pretty dresses for Christmas and Easter, taking you to your first day of school...helping you dress for you wedding day.
We had a few special ornaments for you on the tree this year and put up a stocking as well. I was glad to have done something for you, but the day after Christmas I rushed to take it all down. Overall Christmas wasn't as hard or bad as I had expected it to be. I was thankful for the fact that we tend to not do things super traditionally and all on that day, or I expect it would have been much harder. I went out to your plot on Christmas afternoon. We'd gotten about 5 inches of snow and I just had to clear your headstone. I don't know what came over me, but I went through the entire baby section of the cemetery and cleared the stones. I was so afraid that on that day of all days someone would forget them. Really, if I could have, I would have cleared every stone in the entire place.
I guess that I thought that 6 months was some magic time that would make things hurt less. I thought that between the 6th and 7th month after losing you, I'd somehow start to feel better. Part of me was shocked when it didn't happen...the other part was relieved. When I woke up on December 29th, it didn't immediately hit me that it was 7 months since you grew your wings. It took several hours for it to hit me. When it did, I felt immediately guilty. Was I forgetting you? Well, of course I knew I wasn't forgetting you, but in my mind I needed to use that entire day to remember and reflect on you. I know that I must continue to live my life and that you would want me to...but I don't want to forget you. It'd be like losing you all over again.
Your daddy and I have been working on our relationship. Things have been hard since we lost you, but it's brought up things from the last 5 years that we didn't even realize were issues. For me, I felt that he'd lost the desire to be affectionate with me. I mentioned it to him and once he was REALLY trying to change it, I found that I couldn't make myself be comfortable with cuddling, or holding hands, or even having his arm around me. I thought I was some sort of horrible person until I went to counseling this week and found out that it's not uncommon to push away or avoid any type of intimate relationships, or even close friendships, after losing a child. It's really hard because the things I want to have the most are the things I'm most terrified of. Closeness, companionship, meaningful relationship...in my grieving mind I can't have those things because I know it means I will eventually lose them, juts as I lose you after wanting to have another baby for so long. I know that the benefits of allowing myself to have those things far outweigh the negatives, but I can't make myself break down the wall. I just pray that when it finally does come down that not everyone has grown tired of waiting and left me behind.
I can't even believe that it's been 7 months since we met you. In some ways the time has flown and I can't believe it's been as long as it has. On the other hand, I can't believe it's already BEEN 7 months. Time sort of stopped for me the moment your heart did.
I've continued going to grief counseling as well as family therapy with your Daddy. I really thought I'd moved past the guilt I felt over your death, but it seems to come back like the ocean's tide. At times, there are pilings (my grief) that are fully exposed because the tide is out. They are black and gnarled. Some of them are broken and beginning to erode with the water that covers them about half of the time. They have other "life" growing on them and feeding off of them...fueling them to grow and thrive. They grow and thrive like the ache and hole in my heart do anytime we do something that you should be joining us for. I try to take comfort in knowing you will never know the pain of rejection or the evil in this world, but I selfishly just want you in my arms or to see you playing on the floor with your big brother.
He asks about you a lot now. When we went to look at Christmas lights, he was SO excited, but his first question was, "Where is baby sissy? Can she go too??" It both warms and breaks my heart that he asks for you. I want so much to just walk into what would have been your room, scoop you up and say, "Here she is! Let's go!" But instead, I once again have to explain that you love him but you couldn't stay with us. Every small baby he sees is you to him. I always pray that when he calls some stranger's baby "Baby Sissy" or "Kaidi" that they won't ask where his sister is. Of course, I would put on my bravest face and tell them your story, being sure that we are glad we got even the 40 minutes we did. While it's true that we are grateful, it's also a lie. It's a lie because I didn't just want 40 minutes. I wanted a lifetime.
I got my nails done last week, and a mom brought in her little girl. She was 3 and dressed in the most adorable outfit, with a huge bow on her head, which was full of blonde hair. She was so excited to get her nails "done pretty". Her mom didn't have anything done while she was there, but sat beside her and "ohh-ed" and "ahh-ed" over how pretty her nails were. I made myself go over and do the same, but when I looked at her, I saw your face and saw the things we'd never do together. Things like taking you to get your own nails done, buying you pretty dresses for Christmas and Easter, taking you to your first day of school...helping you dress for you wedding day.
We had a few special ornaments for you on the tree this year and put up a stocking as well. I was glad to have done something for you, but the day after Christmas I rushed to take it all down. Overall Christmas wasn't as hard or bad as I had expected it to be. I was thankful for the fact that we tend to not do things super traditionally and all on that day, or I expect it would have been much harder. I went out to your plot on Christmas afternoon. We'd gotten about 5 inches of snow and I just had to clear your headstone. I don't know what came over me, but I went through the entire baby section of the cemetery and cleared the stones. I was so afraid that on that day of all days someone would forget them. Really, if I could have, I would have cleared every stone in the entire place.
I guess that I thought that 6 months was some magic time that would make things hurt less. I thought that between the 6th and 7th month after losing you, I'd somehow start to feel better. Part of me was shocked when it didn't happen...the other part was relieved. When I woke up on December 29th, it didn't immediately hit me that it was 7 months since you grew your wings. It took several hours for it to hit me. When it did, I felt immediately guilty. Was I forgetting you? Well, of course I knew I wasn't forgetting you, but in my mind I needed to use that entire day to remember and reflect on you. I know that I must continue to live my life and that you would want me to...but I don't want to forget you. It'd be like losing you all over again.
Your daddy and I have been working on our relationship. Things have been hard since we lost you, but it's brought up things from the last 5 years that we didn't even realize were issues. For me, I felt that he'd lost the desire to be affectionate with me. I mentioned it to him and once he was REALLY trying to change it, I found that I couldn't make myself be comfortable with cuddling, or holding hands, or even having his arm around me. I thought I was some sort of horrible person until I went to counseling this week and found out that it's not uncommon to push away or avoid any type of intimate relationships, or even close friendships, after losing a child. It's really hard because the things I want to have the most are the things I'm most terrified of. Closeness, companionship, meaningful relationship...in my grieving mind I can't have those things because I know it means I will eventually lose them, juts as I lose you after wanting to have another baby for so long. I know that the benefits of allowing myself to have those things far outweigh the negatives, but I can't make myself break down the wall. I just pray that when it finally does come down that not everyone has grown tired of waiting and left me behind.
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