Layers of Loss

Today has been a day of much emotion. Tears threaten with every breath.

I wonder why we talk about tears like that. Why are they threatening? It turns out it feels good to cry, it's so refreshing. Maybe like a storm threatens?

This weekend I look at my nearly three year old and am amazed at this brown eyed person staring back at me (I feel like I'm looking at my childhood self). She's smart, funny, and so full of life. I love her immensely. And yet, I struggle to enjoy her when she tests my patience (which feels like every second of every day, I'm not nearly as kind as I would like to be at times).

But then, other memories come crowding in. The 1st and 8th of every month are heavy days. October 1, the day Elianna was born. January 8, the day she died. She would've been 7 months old in May, and it's been 4 months since she died.

As I sat in church today, choking on tears, I had memories flashing through my mind. Of sitting in church back in 2009 mourning the loss of a very new life, being in the middle of a miscarriage. Of waking up to find Elianna dead in the bed beside me. Remembering holding her in the wee hours of that night when she was still alive. Of carrying her into the funeral home.
Then getting news today that someone close to me also had their unborn baby die on Mother's Day.

Facebook was full of the usual glossy Mother's Day good wishes. But I came across a surprising amount of posts acknowledging that it's a tough day for many, for different reasons. I know this all too well.

It's easy for me to get caught up in feeling like I am some kind of magnet for sad or difficult circumstances, especially that they seem to pile up. I mean, look at the things that I can list about today, and they are all personal, never mind the stories of so and so's brother that lost a mum recently. I could easily feel sorry for myself. But, I stopped to wonder today, am I the only one walking around feeling like I have too many layers piled on? Can't be true, right? So, what gives. I'm realizing that as a whole our society just doesn't have a framework or create space for loss and grief. So, we all walk around carrying it, alone and silent.

I've been seeing others being courageous and create rituals around these things, to remember and to celebrate. I love the idea of these things, but my perfectionistic self struggles to come up with the right thing. Like, for it to be a ritual or tradition I have to pick the right thing that will always work, and that I can remember, so I can do it each year. Like it has to always be the same, it can't change next year. It ends up paralyzing me. Silly, I know. When I missed going to Elianna's graveside on the specific date like I wanted to, I just gave up and figured I'd skip it. A wise friend pointed out that it was no less significant to go the next day or week, when it did fit into my schedule. Or, the fact that, my first attempt was thwarted by a plant I bought and wanted to plant at Elianna's grave, which exploded with a spider infestation and so I threw it away (since it was too cold to put it outside yet and I didn't want spiders in my house).

I'm still trying to recover from that and find a new plant. I'm trying to loosen up a little and just start doing things to remember and ritualize. I guess I'll settle into what works for me, and it's ok if it changes over time.

Anyway, I suppose that's enough rambling for today.

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