Thursday, January 17, 2008

An apology

I've been a terrible blog friend lately. I've been reading sporadically at best and posting comments even less.

I don't know why I feel the need to explain and apologize (my therapist, after just three sessions, feels comfortable enough to make fun of my need to apologize constantly. I don't know if I should be amused or perturbed by this, quite frankly). Nonetheless, explain and apologize I shall do.

In a nutshell, it's safer just to stay here, inside this little box.

When I first stumbled across this community of mourning bloggers a month or so after Thomas died, my experience was very similar to those of the grieving mothers I found here. Not exactly, of course. The circumstances that brought us to a place of such deep grief were different, but we were all more or less in the same place, dealing with the same sorrows and the same struggles. It was a refuge. A home filled with people who understood in a way no one in my "real" world did.

Fast forward nearly three years, and I feel like I'm treading water in a great big ocean all by myself. So many of those mourning mothers that I once felt such a connection to have, thankfully, gone on to bear healthy, living children. Others are pregnant now. Others, having made the leap from mourning mother to mourning mother of a living child, are now considering taking the TTC plunge yet again.

And I haven't moved. I've gone backwards with losses four and five, combined.

I'm not fishing for sympathy here. It is what it is.

I'm glad so many people - so many wonderful friends - have found the peace and joy that a new pregnancy and/or healthy child have brought. I just sometimes can't read about it.

The ugly truth. There it is. I sometimes can't read about it.

I'm tormented by the thought that I may never have that extra dose of healing peace a new, healthy pregnancy reportedly brings mourning mothers. They say it doesn't fill the holes, but they say it helps. More than they ever imagined.

What if I never get that help? Where do I find it then? Where is my help? My peace?

So I slink back to my safe little box where everything stays the same and pretend that it doesn't feel like the world is moving on without me.

For now that's my peace.

And I'm sorry. Just don't tell my therapist I said so.

6 comments:

Rosepetal said...

I understand Msfitzita. I'm not in the same place as you but I understand what you are saying. So much love to you.

Julia said...

It's more than understandable. It's natural, I think.
Does it bother you when people who have moved farther comment here? I don't want to cause you any more pain, so if that works better for you, I can keep reading but stop commenting.

Catherine said...

I've written this post before, so I get it. If you need space, please say so. There's no need to apologize.

Bon said...

i'm more of an admiring lurker than a regular member of your blog community, but i just wanted to say that i, too, get it - though never had to live it over time the way you have - and think you owe no apologies. you are not being rude. you are hurting.

like the others said, if it's okay, those of us who have been lucky enough - random as it all is - to move further would still like to send you love, let you know that we receive what you're sending out.

Bronwyn said...

I'm in a similar place to you, so I can empathize with how you're feeling. This is why I've all but stopped posting myself. As happy as I am for the mothers who have gone on to have healthy babies, I know I will never be one of them and sometimes it's just too painful to be reminded of that fact. Take care and know that you have lots of kind, loving thoughts coming your way, whether you post or not.

kate said...

I understand that, and i don't expect you to read/comment on my blog. But i hope you don't mind that i read here and comment -- just to let you know i am thinking of you.