We have been away for the Halloween weekend. Went to visit Alex’s family and were very intent on giving Emma a sense of normality in the midst of all that has happened this year.
I normally love travelling but I have found this trip tiring. It wasn’t only the visiting and being in a different place and the staying in other people’s homes. It was a very mentally tiring trip as well.
You see, grief does that to one. It robs one of all her strength and energy and resources. I have now learned to manage life at home, I know how far I can push myself and how much I can expose myself to emotional triggers. But being away from home is a step too far for now.
So as soon as we left, the nightmares started.
I had prayed a lot for God to show me in dreams how Georgie is doing. Instead, I found myself in the Royal hospital, the CHU ward, time and time again. Reliving the pain. Holding babies. Being given the bad news, about Emma this time. Waking up in cold sweats and completely drained of strength.
And then, the trip coincided with a new trend and a perceptible shift in people’s expectations from us. It started with the emails I mentioned before. It sort of spread to the “get on with it”, “have another baby“, “it won’t be long before you see him” type of
And I found myself get angrier and angrier. With people and God. My mind started sifting through the arguments people brought to us as a means of comforting themselves and in God’s defense. And this is how my mind demolishes them:
1. The “get on with it” approach.
I reached the conclusion that when we were created by God, we were created as souls. Eternal.
Death was not meant to be.
When my baby died, my soul couldn’t comprehend the loss. There is no getting over anything because the loss of a soul cannot be grasped, reasoned, rationalised, understood. My soul is forever left longing for my son’s soul. And it will forever be, on this side of heaven. So please, do not try and comfort me or yourselves with the illusion of a “moving on from” what has happened to us. I won’t because I can’t. I am not meant to. I will forever grieve the loss. FOREVER.
2. The “you will see him in heaven” approach.
Yeah, I know that but that doesn’t make up for the loss of a lifetime of love here. I have missed everything he should have lived here: teething, walking, talking, playgroups, schools, teenage years, marriage, grandchildren. I have also been deprived of the holding, the loving, the heart-fulfilling, the giggling, the tickling, the cuddling, the niggling, the nagging, the stomping, the…everything that life with a child brings. EVERYTHING.
That, I will never get back. NEVER.
Will I get to spend eternity with him? Yes.
But as a soul, as a being consumed with worship and love for God.
I will not get his childhood back.
I will not get the snapshot happy moments.
I will not get it, it will be something else.
But totally different.
So,please, next time you see me and feel the urge to comfort me with this approach, please do this little mental exercise. Pick one of your children. Kill him/her in your head, with the slowest and most painful death you can allow yourself to picture mentally. Try to feel all the emotions that come with it. And now, try and be happy because one day you will see that child again in heaven…
Yeah….I think you got my point now….
3. The “have another baby” approach
Hm, yeah, ok, as if babies and souls are interchangeable.Like dolls. Or socks. Or other things.
As if another baby will be able to erase the pain.
Another baby will be born carrying the burden of being a “rainbow” baby and having to fill in Georgie’s shoes.
Another baby will feel the pressure to comfort and smile and be someone else he/she wouldn’t have been if his older brother had been there in the first place.
Another baby will be born with his/her own personality, his/her own destiny and his/her own right to be happy.
He/she will be a different story to read. But that story will not be Georgie’s story…
I have more approaches to dissect but I am too exhausted to write. I will have to come back when I gather some strength.
Please don’t try and comfort me with words, if you meet me these days.
I need to be loved, where I am, in this scary and dark place of doubt and restlessness.
I need a hug and a tissue.
Because for me, life just doesn’t make sense at the moment…