Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Doing It Anyway

this (from Artful Blogging).  #babyloss #griefToday I spied this image in Artful Blogging.  I'm in love with it.  It represents where I am at so perfectly.

Life has become even more messy, which I did not think possible.   There is a lot of opportunity to worry and fear.  The anxiety is the most threatening that it's ever been.  I am trying to navigate the intense happy/sad* that is the result of a friend having her baby exactly one month after my dead baby's due date.  The grief was challenging enough -- now it's topped off by working to preserve my sanity and the relationship with that friend and deal with anxiety and celebrate this new little life and not be overcome by despair and isolation.

It's hard.  So hard.

It seems impossible, in fact.  It is impossible.

But I have to go through it.  I can't run away and hide (which, I must admit, I was sorely tempted to do yesterday -- Austin friends, you nearly had a new neighbor).  Avoidance is not an option, not if I ever want to truly live again.  I have to sit in the pain and discomfort and happy/sad and utter mess that is this life after stillbirth, and deal.

I have to try.

Living through this, moving through the mess, has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  I can't do it.  But I'm doing it anyway.

And -- I'm glad that I am.  I've tried not-trying and not-dealing before, and the result is not pretty.

So I will stay here.  I will do the impossible.  And, with God's help, I will not only survive, but become all the better because of it.

I am not okay. Not even a little.

*Happy/sad is meant to represent the incredible, impossible tension that I have found in my grief -- that I can experience intense sorrow and bounding joy in the same moment.  It is painful, and it is beautiful.  And, for me, right now everything seems to be happy/sad.  I feel like I can't have one without the other, and neutral is not an option.


  1. Wow Beth I can totally relate to this post! I feel the same way with my best friend who was pregnant at the same time as me. I also feel this when I look at my nieces and nephew and think of my daughter that is missing.
    PS - I've been following your blog for awhile now and just want to say thank you for your inspiring words. I lost my daughter in August, at 31 weeks, 5 days.

  2. Thanks for reading, Jen. I wish we weren't in this horrible boat together...but at least if we must be, we can support each other. I'm grateful for that.

  3. I love that graphic you found. I'm going to put it on my FB. I agree with Jen. Sometimes, the only thing that gets me through the day is reading this blog and knowing that I'm not alone. xo

  4. Oh my goodness, Amanda, what an amazing compliment. I am humbled and gratified. Thank you. And I know what you mean -- often, the Grief Journeys groups and members (like you) are the only thing that really helps me. Well, and God of course! But it is so hard to feel or hear Him sometimes.


"I am glad you are here with me."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King