To the woman I met tonight

To the woman I met tonight: I messaged you after reading your post in the local loss group we now both belong to and I am so, so very sorry for the loss of your little girl. After I lost Mitchell I never knew there were so many women like me who had lost a child. I wouldn't have believed anyone before if they told me the number of babies gone too soon because ignorantly I believed that didn't happen here in Canada or the United States or anywhere with decent healthcare and when it did it was so rare it would be in the papers. I whole heatedly believed that those naive ideas were the truth.

After Mitchells death a staggering amount of women came out from the shadows to tell me their stories and show me their scars. The tears in their souls made from their missing babies that had made them who they are. The scars wove patterns and paths through healing, numbness, friendships and losses all leading from their grief, some of which spanned over decades. Their stories gave me hope, they gave me comfort knowing I wasn't crazy for how I felt and, they gave me a new appreciation of how amazing these women truly are. Not one of these brave women could or would ever forget their lost child(ren) yet they learned to smile again.

Sometimes I think that is the first and hardest step to moving forward after a loss; learning to smile again after the numbness sets in. The numbness makes everything seem useless; like your running in a hamster ball pointlessly and going no where. Your friends come around expecting you to just perk up, and many get bored and move on without you. You are still there though, stuck in your hamster ball running for no reason, going nowhere, wishing everything would just stop the way you feel it should. Believe it or not, one day something silly will make you laugh again. I remember feeling guilty for those moments of happiness but, holding on to it for the seconds when you can, can makes such a difference. The feeling passes, and its back to the hamster ball. Over time though, there are more moments where you don't feel trapped inside the hamster ball and then the hamster ball is a place you visit from  time to time instead of being trapped there in your grief. That doesn't mean you don't grieve your child; I think it means you have also found a way to honor your child by living your life for them. My advice here would be one breath at a time (sometimes breathing can feel forced (who knew?)) and hold onto your memories.  Please remember, you are not alone. Reach out to ladies in the online support groups, while I might not be the person you want to talk with one of them will be. They are strong and courageous and will help by listening as best they can. You are not crazy or alone.