reflection
Another year has come and gone. As I look back on the months leading up to now, I have so many emotions.
When we buried our baby Mylah, it felt like part of me was buried with her. I was completely broken with no idea how to pick up the pieces. My first born Callie pulled me out of a lot of darkness because I knew she needed me. But there were a lot of really dark days that consisted of crying, sleeping, not talking to anyone, never leaving the house, and triggers.
If it weren’t for my faith (which honestly wavered a bit), my husband Brian, and our close family and friends, I don’t see how we would have made it through.
So many friends dropped what they were doing to be there for us. Our moms were constantly making sure we were being taken care of. My dad did everything he could even living in another state. Our siblings helped and comforted us when they could. Our extended family pitched in and were the extra support we needed. God blessed us big time with the people in our life.
And Brian was truly my rock. He took time off work, he stayed up late with me, he listened to me, he dried my tears, he dealt with some of the worst panic attacks, he took over a lot of Callie’s care when I just wasn’t able, and he stayed patient with me. It’s not easy being a husband to a Mama who lost her baby. Especially being the Dad with his own feelings about losing his daughter and also still processing the loss of his dad. But he did everything and more for me, and I thank God for blessing me with a husband like Brian.
///
Let me just tell you… no one can prepare you for losing your baby and all the little stings. Like when your milk comes in with no baby to feed. The recovery from labor without the “worth it” snuggles of your newborn. The empty belly that you still try to protect because it wasn’t your baby’s time yet (and it still doesn’t feel real). The rather quick process of your body shrinking to a place where every remnant of pregnancy is gone. The gut wrenching worries that plague your mind as you wrap your head around what went wrong.. and the guilt you feel because you *know* it had to be because of something you did or didn’t do.
And then the outside triggers… the baby announcements. The pregnant women that suddenly seem to surround your life. The families who go into labor and get to bring their babies home. The little sisters two years a part you see out and about. The commercials and pictures you come across of newborn babies. The baby aisle in grocery stores. The labor scenes in movies. The list goes on.
It’s no one’s fault if someone or their circumstances is a trigger to you. No one can help what happened to you and everyone has a right to live their life and have their joy. But I will say, there have been many people in our life who went above and beyond to help reduce those triggers without question, even though they didn’t have to, and did so with such a loving selflessness that I’ve never experienced before. It makes a world of difference in grieving and I’m so so grateful.
///
The overall process of overcoming relentless grief involves a lot of time and work. There’s no set time limit on how long it takes; you have to be patient (which is hard for me). It helps if you can find a therapist you click with who gets you and your circumstances. It’s also important to surround yourself with people who love you no matter what and let you do/be how ever you need for as long as you need. Prayers help tremendously. As well as finding people you can really talk to who have walked the path you have (or maybe even currently walking it with you). Even those who haven’t experienced the same kind of loss but are empathetic enough to listen. It helped me to talk about things to people who genuinely wanted to hear me. And people who cried along with me.
In the same breath, don’t be discouraged by the well meaning but often hurtful words by people in your life. Or the absence of people you thought you’d always be able to count on. I don’t think it’s necessarily intentional; I think it’s just very hard for people to say and do the right things, especially if they’ve never gone through it themselves.
On the flip side, those who stand up and stand by you, even if they don’t do everything perfectly, are the ones to lean on because they’ll be the ones who will help you get back on your feet.
///
After one whole year, I can look back and see that I’m in a better place than I was before. I know I will always carry the brokenness of losing Mylah, but the harsh sting I felt so strongly has lifted a bit and left me in a place I can breathe a little easier.
I’m trying to be more “normal” by starting to connect with friends again and getting out of the house more. We finally started getting back into church. And can talk a little more about Mylah without falling totally apart. None of this happened overnight; it’s been a long process, and I know I’m still healing and overcoming triggers. But I want those out there reading this who are newly facing grief and loss to know that you will get through this. Hang in there, don’t lose hope. Don’t give up. There’s always a reason to live and something to be grateful for - it just may take some time for all of that to resurface again.
Also, if you’re someone like me who struggled to find a therapist to help with your grief, don’t hesitate to reach out to me, let me help you in your search. I don’t want anyone to struggle alone. I almost gave up looking for a therapist because most of the ones I found had a full caseload. But I’m so glad I didn’t, I believe God led me to the therapist I see now, and I know she’s a big reason why I’m in a better place today.
I know I’ve written a lot. It’s felt very therapeutic to reflect and share. If you’re someone who feels like it would help you to do the same, don’t hesitate to send me an email. I’m more than happy to be the person to listen. 🤍
My hope for 2023 is for continued healing and connectedness. For more normalcy and peace. And a little bit of rest too.
Blessings,
Paige