Adelle - Our Angel Baby

I must say that as far as Angelversaries go, this was a good one (Of course, what do I know?  This is one of the first of many, many Angelversaries).  Sara and I distributed flyers for Angel Mommies Support Group.  We're convinced that someone (or maybe two someones) were looking out for us...  As we entered the Obstetricians' offices, NICU and funerals homes it was sometimes hard to hold it together but we found strenght to do what we felt was right.  Luckily we were greeted, for the most part, by people who were open and gave us positive feedback. 

Today I feel that I was exactly where I was meant to be... however distraught this made me feel.  (If you ask me tomorrow, I might tell you something different).  This doesn't take away the pain, it doesn't make me accept the situation, it just means that I feel that I was doing something positive and that Adelle's short life might give a purpose to mine afterall, even if she grew her wings too soon.

What can I say?  It's just (another) bad day...
I looked at Adelle's picture for the first time since November.  I probably shouldn't have done that before going to work....  It brought me right back to November 6th.  The wound reopened and is bleeding freely again.

So, I finally had a meltdown and came home.  Fortunately, I was sent a special Angel Mommy, she called me and talked to me for over an hour.  It was so nice in my time of deepest sorrow (of today anyways) to be able to talk freely about Adelle to someone who understood completely (her story is so similar to mine).  And now I look forward to meeting later with Sara and to sharing with her too. 

After all, we are moms, as I was reminded today, and moms love to talk about their kids...

I've been keeping busy this week trying to get myself and the house organized before returning to work on Monday.  Have I mentionned how much this stresses me out?  True, true... I have also mentionned that I work with a dynamic group of ladies who "have my back" as they put it.  And they are certainly not the reason I am afraid to return. 

I am stressed because a) now it's officially been 17 weeks since we lost our little angel and it feels like so much more time has passed... b) just visiting the office a couple of weeks ago, when I saw what my replacement did to my desk - gasp! - nothing seemed the same [I know, you can't expect someone to work for months and not change things to be more productive... and "your" desk at work isn't really "yours" is it?] and c) what do I say when the clients ask: so how's your baby?  or (for new clients) how many children do you have? and as a result d) having breakdowns at the office... I don't like when people, especially strangers, see me cry.

I know I can make it through this.  It's another step I have to take and as much as I know deep down in my heart that it's time...  I also know it will be difficult.  And as someone in a Facebook group that I joined to commorate lost babies put it, I am emotionally drained already.  I mean, just vacuuming yesterday was quite the feat... I am not really sure how clean the floors are because my tears were blurring my vision.  What will I do when things get crazy at work?

As luck or fate would have it, I met with three friends yesterday...  Kind of like spirits of life past, present and future, though I am not sure which is which.  I was able to just let loose with the first who helped me smile after a morning full of sobs, then got great advice for my return to work from Sara who has had to do that recently (best advice that I feel she needs credit for:  when going back to work, take it one hour at a time instead of one day at a time - it will seem more manageable), then some energy healing from Melodie. 

It is with nervous anticipation that I prepare myself for this new step and I know it will be ok. As the Beatles said it "Oh I'll get by with a little help from my friends..."

Earlier this week I met with Sara (I have changed her name for her privacy), who is an Angel's mommy too.  We talked about so many things that I had not thought about for a long time.  It was nice, but at the same time was very difficult.  It brought back a flood of emotions and that night I cried myself to sleep for the first time in a while.  I realized how much I miss my little baby and how much I keep myself from feeling...

Sara lent me a great book (that she has read three times already... and I understand why).  It is called Beyond Tears - Living After Losing a Child written by parents who have lost a child.  I was flipping through the pages yesterday and fell upon a passage that spoke so strongly to me.

Since November so many people have told me things like: "You're so strong..."  or "I don't know what I would have done if this happened to me..."  Every time words like these were uttered it felt like I was being stabbed in the heart.  I couldn't quite comprehend why and I couldn't put the words together to formulate a thought that made sense.  Then, highlighted by Sara (so I know she has felt the exact same thing), the author wrote:
While those in the "civilian world" may think we are consoled when they tell us they could not survive losing their child, some of us dissect such words and unfortunately attach a very different meaning to them. [...] It's almost as if they are saying that we are able to survive because we didn't love our child as much as they obviously love theirs.

I can't express the relief I felt when reading that.  It's been something that has been weighing on me for a while.  As I read a few more passages, I understood myself more.  I am not living every day... rather I am surviving every day.  There's a big difference.  Sara and I were told by different people that the pain never goes away, it just gets less intense as time goes on.  I am happy to have met Sara and that we can journey together and when it feels like the pain will never get "less intense" we can turn to each other for empathy.