To those who think I don’t still hurt, who feel my time mourning has an expiration date …
To those that feel I should be “over it by now,” “moving on,” “writing about happier things,” “feeling better,” “snapping out of it”…
To those who don’t understand why I celebrate and act as a mother to my daughter…
To those who are so uncomfortable with their own grief that they believe I should sweep mine under the rug…
To those who believe another child, new pet, different career will erase the hurt and “fix” things…
To those who are afraid to say her name…
I see you, I hear you…And I feel sorry for you.
I pity you and your continued misunderstandings and misinterpretations. You’re wrong. You don’t get to tell me how to grieve. And I’m angry and disgusted that you honestly believe I am capable of not being irrevocably changed by such an experience as the death of my baby. I’m sorry that my version of motherhood isn’t full of sunshine and smiles the way you need it to be. I’m sorry you are so offended by my parenting that you spew your senseless and deplorable platitudes in my face every chance you get instead of validating my experience.
The fact is, I’m tired and I can’t keep making excuses for you. You may never understand my grief, and I have come to terms with that, but I will no longer justify your painful words as you “not knowing what to say” or “having good intentions but accidentally saying the wrong thing”. Your words hurt. And no matter how much I try to ignore and push them away, they still find a way into my mind…and my heart. I no longer have the energy to hold the pain for my daughter and your discomfort and intolerance together in one space.
I am certainly not the first to say this, it has been said hundreds of times before, and will be said again and again by fellow loss mothers– there is no going back to the old way of life.
I cannot be fixed. The tragedy can’t be erased. I won’t magically wake up one morning and be back to embracing my pre-motherhood self. That woman is gone. I’m sorry you can’t seem to make room for the new and changed me.
My daughter is not some horrible, wretched thing. She is not some castoff, some demonic black spot on my past. She is not something I want to forget or erase or abolish. So, I would appreciate it if you would stop treating her like some cheap, replaceable object. She is my beautiful baby girl. She has a name and a birthday and a story. She is a person!
Her life, while short, was beautiful and her father and I cherish every memory we have with her. I’m sorry that there are those of you that can’t or won’t try to understand that. What happened to her, her death, that is what is horrific– every part of me wishes that was not a piece of our reality. What happened to her is the tragedy, that’s the pain, the suffering, the darkness that at times eclipses all the light. But she, she will always remain my whole world and my future.
So, to those of you that continue to downplay my value as a mother….I encourage you to take a good, long, hard look at yourselves before you further pass your judgement (and unsolicited and unnecessary opinions) on to me. And know that I will continue to carry my grief, like the love for my child, around everywhere I go. I refuse to snap out of it, move on or get over it. I’m not going tuck it away. I will embrace it and nurture it, in any way that makes me feel free and connected to my baby. It, like her, is a part of me. Always. And forever.
Amy continues to search for ways to build purpose and promise back into her life as she fights to honor the memory, and story, of her only child.
- One Whole Year - May 22, 2017
- Dear Grief Bully - February 27, 2017
- Indescribable - January 18, 2017
I needed this today. Thank you and Im so sorry for your loss.