Stare it down

I'm starting - now 1 year out - to really face the bald-face truth: This happened to me. I lost this baby. She is gone.

The difference between now and a year ago is that I'm no longer fighting this truth. I used to say "I can't believe..." with a sense of injustice. I screamed this in the shower. I literally would find myself involuntarily shaking my head "no."

Now - with time, with counseling, with all sorts of coping mechanisms - there are days when I can leave it at just this: "This happened to me" with some level of belief about the whole thing.

I also realize that I can only imagine who she would be - I can't in good conscience think that I know who she really was or would have been. She is who she is -and a mystery to me in so many ways.

The comfort?

It comes right now in really being able to see how she is woven into our lives. I water the plant my family gave us in her honor. I see her picture. I have my necklace. Every time the wind picks up outside my house, every fall, will be about her. We'll keep baking our cakes. We'll keep lighting our candle. We have the pillow my grandmother made. We will soon have the angel ornaments on the Christmas tree.

This is not how I wanted it to be. This is the way it is. I hold both of these side by side.

Collect baubles and trinkets to remember the baby...

I don't think that people realize how wonderful it is to get those random gifts - the "I'm thinking of you and of the baby, just because." Not tied to any date. Just because. I've kept and treasured all of them.

Because I think of my kids - both of them - all the time. It's so meaningful when others are thinking of them too. Powerful stuff.

My friend W - aka BookishGirl - just sent me the most touching and beautiful gift. And before I show it off, I just want to introduce W. She is my blogger hero.

In fact, our own sadness made it to her blogspace. It includes photos of our kids back the previous fall, before Grace died. When there were 2 pregnant women, 3 toddlers, 2 babies still on the way: here and here.
That's our beautiful friend W.

The gift? It's a pendant for me, recognizing both Grace and N as my two girls. So thoughtful, and just so simple, beautiful and meaningful.
N saw me open the box and asked why the letters were there. N for her name - she understood that one. G? "For Grace," I said. Why? "N and G for my girls."
Puzzled look. Hm.
Can I go watch Curious George now? she said. And off we went.
When I showed my husband A the necklace and related N's reaction, he also asked what the G was for. I should have been devastated. But we are handling grief so differently - it took him a moment to realize it wasn't just about N.
Thank goodness for the chaplain who said the magic words on Day 1. It's been my mantra:
"Everyone handles grief so differently. You each are going through this together, but you're experiencing it in very different ways."
Otherwise, I'm quite sure I would have lost it long ago.
W found it from a jeweler online at Etsy who was so sweet, she also sent some earrings and helped W figure out how to get it wrapped and added a little note.
The kindness of friends -- and relative strangers too -- means a lot to me right now.