I'm sorry I'm not the same "me" anymore.
I know I've changed but I don't know how anyone could go through something so traumatizing and heartbreaking and come out on the other side unscathed. Oh, how I wish that I could be the "old me", untouched by the reality that babies die. Fundamentally, I'm the same person...just a bit heavier (metaphorically, well, literally too) now with maybe deeper priorities. Maybe I've lost my spark, but what good is a spark anyway? Ok, that sounds a little cynical but I guess that's one of the new traits I've picked up on this journey through grief. It's a long, dark and lonely road... You'd be a bit jaded too.
I'm sorry I can't "get over it".
I can tell you right now that there is absolutely no getting over it. She is my daughter and I'm still her mama. Her death has shaken me, moved me, and changed my heart. I'm going to be sad every day of my life. That is not to say that I can't experience joy also, but there will always be a sadness that I carry with me and her absence is not something that I can forget about or get over. It is with me always.
I'm sorry I talk about her too much.
Talking about my daughter is one of the few things I have left. I don't get to hold her or rock her to sleep or dress her up in pretty dresses. I do get to talk about her, though...and that I will never give up. I fear that I will wake up one day in the near future and no one would have talked about her, asked about her, or worse, thought about her. If I don't keep her memory alive, who will?
I'm sorry I don't act like I'm grieving.
It's been over a year since we said goodbye and in that time I have learned to live with the pain a little more than I did in the first few months. It hasn't lessened but I have found a place for it. I may smile and laugh now but that doesn't mean that I have forgotten about her or that losing her isn't still tearing out my heart. It just means that time has allowed me to make room for sadness and happiness, sorrow and joy, tears and smiles.
I'm sorry if I can't be very social anymore.
I have developed a lot of social anxiety through all of this. The fear that someone will ask something or say something that I don't want to hear is always in the front of my mind. Thinking about a stranger asking me how many kids I have (and the questions that will follow) makes me nervous and fearful. Sometimes I want to talk about everything! Sometimes I don't! I don't know how I'm going to feel in that moment and that makes me want to avoid it all together.
I'm sorry I can't be overjoyed at the idea of your new baby.
Yes, before losing my daughter I would be instantly sending you "congratulations" and baby gifts...but I just can't do it now. It hurts too much. It's not that I can't be happy for you, it's just that your happiness at this beautiful new life is such a punch in the gut and reminder of how I didn't get that. Sure, that may be rather selfish but for me to see countless pregnancy and birth announcements online just hurts my heart. I wish it wasn't that way and I'm assuming with time it will get better, but for now if I can muster up a "like" for your big announcement, that's a huge step for me!
I'm sorry if it doesn't seem like I appreciate your support.
It is so hard for me to even comprehend the amount of support, well wishes, gifts and thoughtfulness we have been so thankful to receive. Sometimes it's too overwhelming to try to express my gratitude because I simply cannot find the words. I wish that I could tell you just how much every kind word spoken (or written) to us has meant. If it seems like your thoughtfulness has gone unnoticed, trust me, it most definitely has not.
I'm sorry if all of this makes you uncomfortable.
It sucks, it's sad and sometimes awkward to talk about. I know that. However, it is my reality. It is the life I live every second of every day. My job is to simply survive. I do not have the energy to put in to make you comfortable. Maybe that sounds harsh but your comfort is not my priority. If you do not want to be part of this...walk away, "unfriend" me, whatever you need to do, please do.
I'm sorry this happened.
I'm sorry that this is my life. That you are in some way a part of it. I'm sorry that my story may make you sad or bring the idea that "babies die" to your mind. I'm also sorry I'm not sorry. Me talking about my daughter helps to make her real to you and me. I am doing the absolute best I can with the cards that I've been dealt. I wouldn't wish this grief on anyone but I have it and I'm going to own it. I never would have guessed that this is where I would be and I don't know how things will be in two, five or ten years from now but I can only do my best with what I have. Some days will be good, some days will be bad but they are my days and they are filled with an overpowering love and memory of my daughter.
