Adelle - Our Angel Baby

The inevitable is inevitable. 

I've been thinking of ways to skip this week, maybe find a cave to hide in until next Monday.  Unfortunately, as it has always done, the world keeps spinning and like it or not we're all on for the ride, including me.  This week marks Adelle's 6-month Angelversary (I take a big pause and a deep breath before replacing the word birthday with Angelversary again) and if the timing wasn't cruel enough... Mother's Day.

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.

You would think things would get easier with time.  Just about everybody has promised me that.  I supposed that 2 days before the 3-month anniversary of your baby's passing, isn't really enough time.  I am relieved somewhat by this fact as today I try to remember her little kicks, then holding her little body in my arms.  Some of the details grow more fuzzy every day... that's why I wish time could just stand still for a moment.

Today I miss Adelle a lot...