Living With Grief

Goddamn Feelings

Triggered (adjective, of a response): Caused by a particular action, process, or situation

A while ago, I said to a friend “when I started the blog, I thought it was because I was angry, but it’s not anger. It’s something different…it’s longing, it’s sadness, it’s frustration”. Well folks, tonight it’s just outright anger, I’m afraid.

I saw something on Facebook and it made me want to punch a wall. It was a post about how difficult it is for mothers with newborns, during this lockdown. And I get it, it’s tough, it’s not what you expected. Join the fricking club. Actually, join the queue.

But do you know why I’m angry? It’s because that’s what I STILL default to. So now I’m going to write, to try to figure out what I’m really feeling here. Because I’m tired of anger ruling me. I want to be normal and compassionate and a lot less self-centred (says she with a blog! Yeah yeah, I know. I’ll stop this blog one day). So I’m going to write until I feel calm again, because a lot of good things happened this weekend and I don’t want this to overshadow that. So I guess this is what I meant, by “feel all the feels” – here goes:

  • I feel stupid. When I first started reading the Facebook post, I thought it was about baby loss. It sounds so similar, but then it dawned on me, that this post is not for me. This is for that other exclusive club, the nicer one, the one where the mums got to keep their babies. And so…
  • I feel muzzled because all that my anger wants to do, is light a fuse and comment. I REALLY want to write “sounds like living with baby loss, except we don’t have the baby”. But then I remember that I have a baby loss blog, entirely for moments like these, so this is the appropriate forum. Not one, where I’m intentionally going to lash out, to upset someone because they’ve inadvertently upset me.
  • I feel jealous. This is the obvious one. I wish that I could complain with the rest of them. I wish that could be my biggest problem, right now. I am kidding myself if I try to pretend that had Summer been born, I would not have moaned that “I finally got to go on maternity leave and I never got to see anyone”. I would have been the first to complain and so I am just, quite clearly, envious.
  • I feel ashamed. Of course other people should be allowed to vent, I do not have the monopoly on that. I use a public forum to rant about how hard baby loss is, why shouldn’t new parents (or any parent) be allowed to do the same? Shame on me.
  • I feel I lack perspective. What am I doing here? I’m saying “woe is me, my plight is worse”, which contradicts what I’ve said previously, about how people should not minimise their hurt in comparison to others, because everyone needs support. So how do I add some perspective here? To be grateful. I am grateful that I have had the privilege of being pregnant. Three times. They were wonderful times. And I also know what it’s like, for I feel lonely in lockdown, without my firstborn too. So be kind to them, Anjulie. Sympathise, don’t scrutinise.
  • I feel hurt because I’m so literal and the last sentence of the post inadvertently touched a nerve, because it says “sleep the Spring away”. It’s saying, just get through this final season mama and everything will get better. But we all know what comes after Spring, it’s Summer. And my baby loss life won’t just magically disappear, and my Summer is not coming. That last sentence made me cry, and now typing through tears, I realise, it’s ok. The Facebook post was a trigger, that’s all. Just a reminder. You never forget see, but you’re able to build some resilience, an armour of sorts. Not much, but some. And sometimes, an arrow can slip right through, when you least expect it. Just like Harold, at the Battle of Hastings, I guess – big fat ouch. (I feel tentative laughter).
  • I feel humbled. New mums, congratulations. I know you adore your babies and you’re feeling lonely right now. We loss mums do too.

The Facebook post that triggered tonight’s blog

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(2) Comments

  1. Rashmi says:

    So much pain and yet I definitely feel your compassion in this, your ability to see beyond your own immense pain, not that it’s vital right now, it just so happens that it’s hard to miss. Be kind to yourself. I know Summer may not be here in physical form after spring, but one thing we can be sure of, is that her legacy will be reborn every year, because that’s the beauty of Summer, and we will always remember her 💖

  2. Karen says:

    I’m glad you’ve written this post. It’s always “better out than in” and I’m glad that you got to the root of your feelings and understood them. You, sweet Summer’s mum, are truly amazing and I’m sure this will connect with many other loss parents. It’s been even more hard and lonely for all of you during this pandemic and yet the strength, care, creativity and generosity you and many others have shown has been completely astonishing and wonderful. I’m in awe xx

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