Sep 29, 2013

There's an Elephant in the Room

I have a hard time knowing how to answer when someone asks, "How are you doing?" It's not necessarily because I don't want to talk about what's been going on or how I'm feeling, but just that I don't really know what to say. I don't always know how I'm doing. And most of my processing, crying, and thinking things through occur at night with the stillness and quiet of laying in bed.

Also, I've discovered that I've become the friend who makes outings awkward and uncomfortable. I don't like to use the word "hate" very often, but I'm pretty sure I hate that I bring a big elephant into the room with me. I drag it around behind me, my elephant who is chained to my ankle (or rather, my heart), and everyone is keenly aware he is there but no one wants to say anything. My "baby-who-died" elephant. I don't want to make people uncomfortable, but he is a part of me now. And I hope that at some point my elephant becomes less awkward, and even though I hate his awkwardness, I guess you could say that I love him. Because he is my story. And I would rather have my strange and difficult "baby-who-died" elephant than nothing at all.

(Am I losing you here as I delve deeper into this whole "elephant" thing? I'm getting a little caught up and carried away in this the symbolism.)

And it's hard. It's hard and uncomfortable and awkward, for all of us. I don't blame anyone, because I'm sure before all this happened I would be the exact same way. And maybe not all people who've lost babies and loved ones would agree, but I say just bring it up. Don't be afraid that bringing up my baby will remind me of his death because he will always be in my mind. I know that you might be afraid that I don't want to talk about it, but that's okay. Please. Ask. (Just choose gentle words.) And if I don't want to talk about it I will let you know.

There are so many things about this that are hard, I am continually being taken by surprise. I suppose if I had thought about it, I would've realized that I have an elephant permanently attached to my heart, but of course I'm so stuck in my own head and my own world that I didn't even notice when he appeared.


xoxo christine

As an aside: I can't decide if I like using this elephant analogy or not (even though I keep using it). We bought a stuffed animal elephant for our baby while we were in San Diego this past spring. It was long before we knew anything other than that we were happy to be adding to our family. The elephant is Calvin's and will always be his. I used "elephant in the room" simply because everyone knows what that means, but if Calvin's animal is an elephant I'm not sure that I want this ache (and awkwardness) to be associated with that. On the other hand, maybe I can think of my heartache as his stuffed elephant always being with me.

12 comments:

  1. Oh my gosh, I am so behind on my blog reading and I had no idea. I am completely heartbroken for you and completely understand what you mean about carrying the elephant in the room. I wish I could take away a bit of the heartache for you. Please, please let me know if you need anything. To talk or vent or whatever, I'm here and I am so sorry I wasn't here much sooner.

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    1. Thank you, Jessica for your kind words, understanding, and support. I truly appreciate this.

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  2. As a mom who has lost a son, I understand this. I feel like anytime I mention my son's name, people hold their breath. Talking about him is my way of working through my grief, and real friends understand that. There are lots of us out here if you need a tribe to talk to. xoxo (www.lifewiththefrog.com)

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    1. Thank you, Kathy. My friends have been pretty good, but sometimes it is hard as nobody wants to be the one to bring it up.

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  3. I have to thank Jessica for letting me know about your beautiful site. I had several miscarriages in a very short time at the same time that all my friends and cousins were happily showing off their beautiful babies. I often felt as if I was traveling with "elephants" in the room. I can only imagine what you must be enduring. I hope you can talk about your son and take him with you. What a gorgeous post. My thoughts are prayers are with you!

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    1. I'm so glad you stopped by. And I am sorry for your losses as well. Thank you for your kind words and support.

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  4. Jessica Watson sent me here. I too am a mother who lost an infant, two days old. I know exactly what you mean... and when you do start to tell people how you are really feeling, you can almost see their eyes glaze over and the expression "I only expected you to say 'fine!'" register on their faces! I'd like to invite you to join our facebook group - Sunshine After the Storm at www.facebook.com/SunshineAfterStorm - a community and encouragement for grieving mothers. xoxo Alexa (aka Kat Biggie)

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    1. Thank you for stopping by. I am so sorry about your loss as well. Yes, it is definitely hard to talk about and I find myself mostly just saying "fine" instead of elaborating. It's just so hard to know what to say to people in person.

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  5. The elephant analogy is a good one, I think. The ever unspoken, unacknowledged pain which goes wherever you do, and which others seem to feel so unable to pay attention to. So sorry you're going through this, but glad you at least have a fluffy elephant to look after you and keep as part of your memory. I hope that the toy becomes more of a positive thing soon though.

    I hate that you're experiencing isolation because of this - that truly makes grief a lot harder than it needs to be. I hope and pray that soon enough, either your friends will unclench enough to be able to talk freely (and kindly) to you about your son, or that you find some women who understand this same pain sufficiently to NOT pay heed to any old elephants, but just to accept you and enjoy your company and be with you.

    Take care of you, and sorry for the loss of your beautiful son *hugs* The story of his life and fighter spirit is absolutely heartbreaking and beautiful and awful and wonderful all at once. I'm glad you knew him, and that he was yours.

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    1. Thank you so much. Yes, he was a little fighter and inspired strength in our family. My friends have actually been pretty supportive, it's just that initial, "everyone's thinking about it but nobody's saying anything" and it took me by surprise. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

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  6. I'm so glad that Jessica told us about your site. I hope that you use those of us that have been there as a support system for you. It sounds like you have friends that are supportive which is so important. The real world can be a lonely place when you are grieving. I was that friend, too. The one whose baby died and no one knew what to say so I stopped going out and it was a lonely, lonely time. It's funny, though. The loneliness didn't come until after everyone thought I should "get over it". Glad to meet you and I'm going to poke around here and get to know Calvin, too. :)

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    1. I agree. I think that in some ways it gets harder as the time goes by and feeling like other people think I should be getting "over it" too. Thank you for coming and poking around. I'm glad Jessica told you about me too. It's nice to have some support and understanding.

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Any thoughts? I'd love to hear from you!