Fragility

Grief is such a fragile thing.  When one is grieving, people don't know how to deal with you, they don't know what's right, what's wrong.  People don't know when to call or when not to call, when to stop sending cards, or when to send them.

I can say that I feel so alone, but when I do people say "YOU ARE NOT ALONE."  Except I am.

I'm alone and I feel it.  And it hurts.  I know everyone will tell me that they are here for me, and I think that's great and it means so much except, usually, honestly, they are not here for me.  And when we are together, it's just never the right time to be The Sad Me. 

And I don't know what to do about it.  If I didn't have this blog, I don't know what I would do.  I don't know what people do who don't have a blog.  I can come here and vent my frustrations and try to express my deepest feelings and people can leave a comment and tell me they understand and they care and I read it and I see it and I feel it.

But mostly, when I shut my computer off, it's not there.  I'm hesitant to write this because I don't want people to think they have failed me in some way, it's just a feeling I have, that I know is part of losing James and Jake and I have to deal with that.  But it's so hard.

And some days are so good.  Some days I feel the love and support of many people, but lately, it's not there.  I would be lying if I said it was there, there are people I used to hear from all of the time before losing the twins and I don't any more.   Some people it's been weeks since I've heard from them and I guess I'm surprised because I thought they needed me, too.  I guess I should be taking the next step, except I'm scared, too.  Because I'm different now.   After losing James and Jake, people told me "this is how you learn who your real friends are" and well, I heard it and I believed it, but I didn't think I would lose anyone.

I know my friends have a strange disadvantage in that they can check in on me on my blog and see how I'm doing.  Except this blog represents a fraction of who I am and what I'm feeling.  In no way can it express everything I am feeling.

I'm afraid to call people and say "hey, how about dinner?" because I don't want them to expect me to be the same old me, so I don't call because I don't want to disappoint people. 

Now I feel vulnerable.  I don't know how to be me, I want to talk about what has happened because right now, it consumes me and it's hard to get together with people and just have normal conversations, even though I love learning about people and hearing about their lives.

I'm consumed.  Grief, as I said, is so very fragile.  More than ever I don't understand it, yet I understand it much more than I used to.  I've learned to never take more than two steps away from someone, I have learned to talk to people about their loss and their new life without the person they lost.  I've learned to call and leave voicemails, I've learned to never ask the person to call me back, I've learned to just say I am thinking of you and my heart hurts for you and I know that that is just what that person may need for that day.  That could be the thing that gets them through their day.  There is so much to know and so much to learn and life is so complicated.

And yet, all I need is an ear.  All I need is to have that someone that can sit with me and cry with me and understand me and love me and not judge me.  I don't want that person to be someone I have to pay $55 for forty-five minutes.  I NEED SOMETHING AND IT'S NOT THERE.  It's not fucking there and I can't stand any more.  How much can a person take?  I don't know.  I see others who have lost, I see their strength and their growth and I can't imagine that I could be that strong, but I'll try.  I really try.

Something is missing.  Yesterday, on Memorial Day, marked three months since I delivered James and Jake.  I have this intense desire to include them in our lives in some way.  I can't have them here in the capacity that I want them or need them, so I need them here in some other form.  I need to know they are with me because I truly can't go the rest of my life not feeling them.  I can't do it.   All I want is to be their Mommy.  THAT'S ALL.

Three months.  Three of the hardest months of my life.  I know I'm going to be okay, and right now, as I sit with tears streaming endlessly down my face, I BELIEVE that they are with me.  At least I think I do.  That belief is all I have of them and it's hard to let it go.

I never thought I could feel this incredible range of emotion that I feel now.  I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel anger, I feel content, I feel despair, I feel joy, I feel empty, I feel full.  And sometimes I feel very, very alone.

And that makes so very sad.

I find it important to say that I'm not angry at anyone.  I'm disappointed, maybe, but I understand.  Situations and relationships with grief intertwined are so complicated, I know this and I understand.  I truly understand.

I know there are people reading this, my family, my friends, people whom I have never met, that would do anything to make the pain go away, and I know who you are, and I thank you.

I realize that many people may not say anything to me because they fear they may say the wrong thing.  I understand that, too.  But another thing I have learned is that something is better than nothing.  In a strange way, I feel lucky to have learned that lesson.  Does that make any sense?

Comments

[Lori]

Not a lot to say except that I think you are amazing for sharing your journey with your readers. I think of you and your heartbreak often. It will never be forgotten.

[Chelsea]

It's a long, long process. I was wondering, how is your husband dealing with it all?
(And did you get into the dentist today?)

[Liza's Eyeview]

believe it or not... I understand what you're going through. I probably don't feel the depth of it, because I know it's undescribable and unphatomable...

...It gives me some comfort to read that you are able to vent here.

My dearest friend just lost her 28 yr old son, her only son, (still single), who she loves soooo much. I want to be able to be there for her when she feels alone, but I know that there would be times I'd fail her ...

We're here Beth ... we're here... and when we're not, know that the Holy Spirit is there to comfort you. Lean on Him.

http://www.lizas-eyeview.com/2008/05/remembering-joey.html
http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2008/05/past-and-pitcher.html

[indigobabs]

odd idea...

have you thought about a tattoo?

maybe something small just for you, two j's in a heart, on your hip only you can see. this could be your way of having them with you, the mark of them on your skin as they have marked your heart and soul. i know many people feel different things about getting a tattoo, but this could be a private yet outward way of having them always. just an idea... xoxoxo

[Colleen]

I just wanted to say it is OK to feel this way. You are grieving for your baby boys. You can't just magically fix that or turn those lonely, sad feelings off. Even though I wish I could for you. You are so brave to be able to write all you do in this blog! I am not half as brave as you (ie: this is my very first comment ever on a blog) This is such good therapy for you, plus you are helping others by knowing they aren't alone or that maybe they can relate to something you write about! Just a thought...does your community offer a support group for parents who have lost children? Since the old you is no longer who you are maybe a group of people who have experienced something similiar would help. It seems that when someone has gone through the same things it just makes it easier to "connect" with them. I hope I didn't over-step or say the wrong thing. You and your family are in my prayers.

[Susan]

I've wondered about this, Beth. Friends of ours lost their 17 year old son recently. He committed suicide. I truly don't know what to do for her, other than to treat her the way I always did, but differently. Which is, I imagine, similar to what you are saying. I am logging off here in a moment and will sit down and write her a note just saying I am thinking of her and she is on my heart. She knows it...but I think she needs to hear it again. And again. And again. As my son quickly approaches graduation and going off to college, her son is not and never will. I know she does not have a blog or an outlet like this. I might suggest to her that she begin one.

Not a day goes by that I do not think of you, your boys and your family.

[Jessica R]

I feel you. I wish I could help.

[fireworks]

Not sure if you can see my email through typepad (required for sign in for comment; I have a blogger acct so I don't know how typepad works). Please email if you can see my email address. I wanted to email you privately but I can't get my dumb default email to work from my computer....

I experienced a loss at 10 weeks, on 4/17. I took a nap just before you posted this and had read your archives in Feb and March, read about your wii night with drinks. When I woke up I came back to read more, and you had posted this. I am enjoying your blog (is that wrong to say?) because someone else understands exactly how I am feeling. DH and I chose not to tell our families that we were pregnant with our third. It was supposed to be a big surprise in June when we saw them. Then we decided not to tell anyone about the D&C. It is a very long story, but our conception was sort of like yours, DH with same reaction as yours, our expectations really high, and now my grief is somewhat like yours, but it wasn't twins. I wasn't 19 weeks. It wasn't a delivery. It hasn't been three months since my loss. I am not sure about you but I don't want to try again. YET. I have this strange sense I want to honor my loss.

[Emily]

I always feel so incapable of saying the right words to anyone grieving. But, in the end, it isn't about me. It's about them. It's about you. We've never met. We've visited blogs only. (And I've spoiled American Idol for you!) I started reading your blog because there was a link on Amy F's website. Then, I kept reading it because you are so funny, and I became a Beth groupie. Then, when you lost the twins, I continued to read all your posts...even the sad ones...because I cared...and I felt that you wrote so that someone would read and could care about you. Still, I care. I really do. You've also helped me realize how to help my friend who lost her baby at 19 weeks. (We were due the same week.) I feel like I'm a better friend to her because of you. I know she has read/reads your blog just to hear someone say what she feels inside. Just this past week, she has undergone IVF to try again. We'll know in a few days if it was successful. So, I guess this comment has no real point...except to say that I do care and do think of you.

[Tracy F]

Beth, With these posts you make me wish I lived closer so we could go to dinner, we could sit and cry together and not have to be the person we are not. It is so very hard to have something so life changing happen and have those around you not accept the change or know how to deal with the change. I wonder if the feeling of being alone is one of the stages of grief. When I had a loss (and it does not compare to your loss) I felt all alone. Really people are alone in their grief. You had a different relationship with those boys than anyone else. You felt solely responsible for them (I hope I am not putting words in your mouth). So you are working through so many more emotions than others around you. You are only 3 months into the grieving process. I know it might sound like a lot, but it really isn't. As for friends, many of them may be trying to figure out how to act around you. They might be trying to figure out how to talk with you, without saying the wrong thing. Or they might just be schmucks! I don't know! What the hell do I know, I teach Kindergarten. What I do know is that you are an amazing person that has allowed us on your journey. A journey that has changed us all and taught us all so much. I hope you find strength today, but if you don't know it will come.
Hug A and N! They are 2 beautiful little kiddos!

[pinksandblues]

Dear Beth,
The title of this blog - fragility - says so much. It is not only your grief, but you, too. You feel breakable... and the grief grips with such force, like a vice to your heart. And you are right... people do not know how to approach, or stop approaching, a person in such grief. Shakespeare wrote: Everyone can master grief but he who has it. You know how you feel. You know the emptiness. You know the heartbreak. You know the loss. You know the light that is gone from this earth... but you know the light that is sent from heaven. Grief has no beginning. Grief has no end. But grief shared is grief lessened... at least a little. Beth, keep writing to us. Keep sharing. We are here for you... we are here.
xo - Sharon

[Shelli]

I feel so selfish. You may have noticed I quit blogging again, I'm miserable and it's stupid to blog that I'm not miserable. I never admitted that outloud before, shh, don't tell, ok?

I love you, my friend I don't know in real life, I ache for you, I was crushed when the boys died and will always be. I feel like someones put me on hold and forgot about me, your strength gives me strength, you're so wonderful to share with us, even your off days, that takes courage, I wish I had some.

God bless you!

[Tiffany]

James & Jake (and Ariel & Racecar of course) have the most wonderful mother!! My heart breaks for your loss, i'm sad for the boys that they will never know how much they were truly loved and wanted in this earthly form, but they know, how could they not!!!. the feelings of unfairness are overwhelming, I feel some of it for you! I know that reading the words of strangers are not the same as getting hugs from your people, but have the hubby give you a hug from me!

[Shantel]

Beth,

My heart is hurting for you now. I want so bad to help you. Let's set up a time for dinner somewher and you can talk you little heart out to me. I will listen,I will cry,I will give advice and just try to give you what you are missing. We all go through "journeys" in our lives as I call it,but you know what my journey was and I did find my true friends and I also met new friends that help we a great deal. If you are willing,I am so ready to do this for you. It is not about my journey, it is about you and you need someone who will not judge you,or wonder why you are not hte same ole Beth anyone. I will be this person for you Beth. I do not live that far and we can met in between. Think about it my dear. I wish I could do more, but this is what I have to offer to you now. Noone will ever feel like they are saying the right words, but from experience a person to listen to you is the best therapy sometimes. Let me know what you think.

Love you,
Shan

[Debbie]

Are you able to talk with your husband about it? I know not all men (if any!) are very good with talking about their feelings and they deal with things very differently then we do but obviously he's the next person that feels the grief as much as you do and I would think (but I don't know for sure because I've never been there) that it would be good to talk to him about it--if it's possible in your situation. Just a suggestion. *hugs* I really wish I could make your heart stop aching. :(

[Julie]

My heart breaks for you, Beth. I'm so sorry you are experiencing so much loneliness right now.

I will continue to pray for you, for peace and for that emptiness you are experiencing to be filled. I will also pray for you and your husband to really lean on each other during these very difficult days and that your marriage will become even stronger through this process.

Much love to you......

[Lucia]

Beth,
You are so strong, don't think that because you are grieving you aren't strong. You continue to be a wonderful mother to Ariel and Racecar and that is all you need to do right now. You will learn to live in happiness in what will become your new "normal" but that takes much time I am sure. No one should expect you to be exactly the same person you were before, but I am sure who you are now is just as wonderful even if it is different. I wish I had more comforting words to say but you are in my thoughts and prayers.

[DesignHER Momma]

thank you so much for this post, I know it's hard for you to write. My best friend about 2 months ago lost her 3 month old suddenly to SIDS. I am there the best I can be, but this was a sad but beautiful reminder of what a true friend should be. Hang in there, I'm praying for you.

[Mrs Schmitty]

I can not even imagine the intensity of your emotions. Your post probably only scratched the surface. Have you thought of joining a support group? Maybe speaking to people that have endured the same as you may help you to release some of what you can not share with others.
I hope you can find some peace and though I don't know you, please know that I do send many hugs your way.

[Becky]

*hugs*

[Minivan Mom]

Oh Beth.

Two of my closest friends in the world have lost their daughters, and I have sat and cried and talked with them about this very subject. I never felt uncomfortable "sitting with" them in their grief, which I think is one of the many reasons why we are such dear friends...much like you write, they say that there are not many people who are "okay" with their grief. I don't know why I am one of those people, but I am. It's one of the reasons why I wanted to go into pediatric oncology.

So...yes, in many ways, this is a journey you need to take on your own. And while I don't think it's necessarily true that you learn "who your real friends are", because I believe that there are many very real friends that just can't handle raw grief and emotion, I DO believe that you learn who your friends are that can be your friends in grief. And you have them. You do.

[dcrmom]

(((hug)))

[sunshine]

I liked the tattoo idea. I might even steal it for myself. We had a necklace made, but people would see it and look at me funny - like I was making them uncomfortable.

It's so hard when you're stuck in the place of not wanting to make people uncomfortable - but in desperate need to talk about it. Again. And again. And for however long it takes.

Thank you for sharing.

You are in my thoughts.

[wfbdoglover]

If I remember correctly, you have James and Jake's ashes?? Maybe have a diamond made from it?

http://www.algordanza.org/Default.aspx?alias=www.algordanza.org/en-us

I also think you can have a necklace made with the ashes in a glass bottle. My friend did that with her dad's ashes.

I hope that helps you feel closer to them.

[Tracye]

I am thinking of you and my heart hurts for you.