The 21st of each month used to bring a jolt. A memory. A pause in my breath. Last Sunday was the 21st and I it was the first time in months that I stopped to remember. Our little girl would be two years and four months old.
I’ve been around a couple two year olds lately, last week my nephew turned two, and some sweet friends have a two year old boy. Both only a few months younger than our Isabella would be. I am glad our closest friends have boys. I have to be honest, I think of her when I’m around toddlers close to her age AND I wonder when I will stop thinking of her when I’m around others that are her age… I’m thinking now that might be never.
Grief continues to ebb and flow. Sometimes catching me off guard. Like the visit to my OBGYN where I often felt close to Isabella; could hear here heartbeat- her life- see her move more than she ever would outside my belly. I think of all the tears I wept in that office, all the bad news I received: diagnosis and COVID regulations and all the unanswered questions. It all swept over me like it had happened just the week prior, not almost three years ago.
The body keeps the score. The place. The smell. The reminders stuck vividly in my mind, because these were the memories I was making. These nine months were all I had and I knew that. The clerk who would ask “how old is baby now” or the nurse who would say “how is breastfeeding going.” Words I’ll never forget. Trauma. Trying to form the words to make the sentence that my therapist and I created as my “rote answer” I could repeat without having to think.
A lot of time has passed. A lot of growth and healing has taken place, however I still feel the all consuming heaviness in some moments. They are fewer and further between. They are less intense, but oh, man what I’d give to have our daughter here with us.
From TRY SOFTER:
“Our capacity to be alive grows as we learn to process and move through hard things. Every sorrow we’ve grieved and all the pain we’ve lived through- it’s all valid and it all matters. More significantly, the hard things that cracked us open have the potential to create space for deeper joy and resilience. As we try softer with ourselves by attending to and listening to our bodies and emotions we become vast like the Grand Canyon, because our ability to hold the full experience of our humanity increases.” Aundi Kolber
I have more things in my heart to unpack. My anger that is triggered, not extending the love and grace to myself that I deserve through all this. Blaming, judging and trying to make sense are things I need to release.
Healing has come in a lot of different forms: reading, grief groups, yoga, massage, sitting in the silence. My kids are sources of life and hope. My husband a reminder that there is no right way to walk through this- and that I can do what I need to. There are things that help our family heal, and things that, while good and nice and that may be part of another family’s journey- are not a part of our healing path.
The 21st is Camilles birthday. The 21st is Isabellas birthday. The 21st is now our anniversary.
Let the waves crash. Let the sun shine and the rain fall. It’s all a part of the journey.