I’m starting to get annoyed. Yup, you’ve been warned. Six years since we buried Thomas; and many years since I let go of the dream of raising a living child, I have had a lot of therapy. I have had time to process, to feel my feelings, to speak my truth and to hear more cliches then I can count. I have learned to ask for help; I have learned to tell people what I need, emotionally. I have cried countless times and laughed through tears.
In the beginning, when I was struggling people would tell me “you need to be strong”; which confused me as I was incredibly ill and didn’t see a single reason to be strong, but I saw many reasons to grieve, mourn and start my physical rehabilitation. But even in my brain injured state, I knew none of that involved me needing to be strong. Some even tried to tell me to “be strong for Thomas” – like my son would want his mother to live a lie?
These days, I see a tendency towards Strong Shaming; a person speaks to their pain and the masses rush in telling them how a) they need to be strong or b) they ARE so strong and then begin to smother the bereaved’s actual feelings.
Let me inform you world: I am not strong but I am very cognizant of my own feelings. We were put in a heartbreaking situation. We live in a world where there is sadness behind every smile, every holiday, every happy moment – also houses pain and loss. That is the life of a Still Mother. I am not strong, I’m doing the best I can with the life I’m living. Some days I do better then others; some days I need extra support because I am especially fragile. When I know this, when I state this – I am asking for gentle support, for acceptance of my pain, I am asking for my circle to surround me because I can not hold myself up alone, that day. I am clearly stating my need and well intentioned chants of TELLING someone they are strong, don’t resonate. Because at that moment I am the opposite of strong and I am 100% okay with that.
I am fragile, vulnerable and broken – and that is okay. I have a wonderful reason for being fragile, vulnerable and broken – his name is Thomas. I accept myself and the scars that grief and love have left on me. I need you to accept my scars. I need you to allow me my pain. I need support and kindness, no question – but please don’t deny me my feelings. Please don’t push down my pain because it is disquieting. Please stay by my side and lend me your support, help me stand when I start wavering under the weight of the loss of Thomas. If I am wavering and you place the additional expectation of my so-called strength; I promise you I will fall down and it won’t be pretty. It will be ugly crying instead of softly weeping.
This is what we all need; we need to be allowed to be honest, even when being honest isn’t rosy and happy. So many of my family and friends allow me my pain and for that I am deeply grateful. We need to allow this for everyone; online and in real life.
- The Importance Of Pictures - October 12, 2020
- Self-Isolation And Still Mothers - April 3, 2020
- And Here We Are - June 24, 2019
I am happy that a dear friend found this site for me! She has been the best friend ever through this time. My husband and I said Hello and Good Bye to Anna Ruth. She was full-term. I “died “ and had to be revived as I lost just about all of my blood when my uterus ruptured during labor. I had previous surgery on the uterus and rather than schedule me for a “C” section, I was allowed to labor. Anna Ruth was 6lbs and 22 inches- absolutely beautiful and looked just like her Daddy. So I had to heal physically while being in shock for so long. That was 23 years ago May 22nd. Yes of course we have heard all of the platitudes- over and over. Sometimes I feel like such a fake when I have to smile and be ever so pleasant with parents and their children. I still CANNOT bear to be around pregnant women and infants- I think that will not change. So again I am happy to find this site- it helps to know I’m not alone