Wednesday, February 20, 2008

My heart

I regurgitated most of yesterday's blog in my therapist's office today.

I think I'm beginning to understand how they work, these head doctors. She validates my feelings, but doesn't necessarily give me any answers. Either because she doesn't have any or because she wants me to come to my own conclusions as part of my healing journey.

I get that. I do. But I wouldn't mind a few concrete yes's and no's every now and then. I'm starting to wonder if anyone actually has any. Or if maybe I already have more answers than she does and just don't know it.

The only thing she'll come right out and give me an answer to is the, "Am I crazy?" query. So far it's always been a resounding NO. That's good. That's what I want to hear.

I suppose the idea is to get me to work through everything, with her as my travel guide. And yeah, I guess it wouldn't do any good to sit there and have someone tell me what to think and how to feel, particularly if I'm not thinking or feeling what that person thinks I should.

As she said, I'm grieving the way that's right for me, so how can that be wrong?

This just feels like such a long, daunting process. And I don't know where it ends.

She seems to want me to consider separating the love I have for my babies with the sorrow I feel at their loss.

It's a fabulous idea, but I might as well sit down and figure out the formula for cold fusion while I'm at it. I haven't got a clue where to begin.

It's easier to separate sorrow from love when you had time with the person you're mourning; when you have memories to comfort you. When all you know of someone is what they looked like on a home pregnancy test and how they felt kicking you from the inside out, it's a little harder to find that blessed comfort.

So much of my babies is sorrow. It just is. And yes, love too. Immeasurable love. But I just don't see how the two can ever be untangled. I don't see them as separate entities.

Therapist lady has her work cut out for her.

She asked me where I hold my sorrow. I said I carry it in my heart and wear it like a cloak. When she asked what would happen if I took it out of my heart, presumably to store it elsewhere, I felt a protective rush of panic and told her no, it had to stay there.

We both looked a little startled.

She asked why it needed to stay there, and I told her it's because it's mine. I held my hands over my actual heart and told her, "It's mine. It needs to stay here."

As though I was protecting my children. As though they physically need me to hold the sorrow of their loss that closely to me. As though their lives somehow depend upon it.

Maybe I'm just hanging on because the truth is they don't need me.

As a mother, there's nothing more heartbreaking than that.

Except knowing it.

3 comments:

Heather said...

I do doubt she has any answers, not that she isn't wonderful and educated...but she hasn't walked in your shoes. How can she possibly know what is right/wrong for you?

What you said about having time with the person totally makes sense to me.

Rosepetal said...

I'm not expecting any answers from my therapist. There are no answers, only getting used to, being able to live with, whilst learning to be happier in life despite this great scar you carry around.

I also have pain and sorrow inextricably linked with my sons and it feels like betrayal if I take steps to give it up.

I'm not sure how I will know when I don't need the therapy any more. I don't think there will be a point when we can say: healed. Just a time when we can say "I can now cope with this on my own."

((((hugs))))) and thinking of you.

B said...

sounds like an amazing session....

As mums to baby/ies that have died....... what do we have to hold on to? What is there? We have given up everything.... the weight of our child, the touch, smell and feel. The problem is, we carry so much, yet not enough. ...... And we are asked to give up our sorrow too?

I don't know what figuring out you will do to reach this point. I feel I did in some ways. I think I mentioned in an earlier comment that for me the only thing left I could think to do for my girl was to give her into God's keeping.

I know it aint the same for you. And it's not like life has been peaches, or that I haven't doubted that decision......... it's just what I did.

It's what I keep doing actually, I prayed for my little embies sitting in a dish in a city building and asked God to keep them in his hand..... and the ones that haven't been created yet.......... and (it took me a very long time to say this) me. I put myself in God's hands despite not trusting Him the tiniest little bit. despite hating him like nothing else at times. I don't know what else to do. And somehow, all of us, all of my family, even the tiniest, are all together there in that place.

But I'm hoping for a little one in my belly too.

I find it very hard to untangle the death of my daughter with the ongoing grief of trying and trying and trying again. So many blows, so little resources, so much love, so much too lose.

Sister......... you are doing it as tough as can be imagined.

We see it.

We see your courage. And your love.

don't build a wall around that - even if you think it will protect all your dead children - it is too precious to be locked away.

I hope this does not offend.

Much love

B