I woke up this morning with a throbbing sliver in my mind. A little thought that had crossed my mind and kind of embedded there–causing some minor swelling, irritation, and hurt. Grief makes us more sensitive…most of the time I am afraid to admit to this. The vein of loss and grief that runs through my whole body is covered by a very thin piece of skin–rubbed the wrong way, or slightly knicked and everything goes bloody and wrong.
Emotions, and tears aren’t as on the surface as they were five months ago, now they dwell much deeper. But it really doesn’t take much to bring out the sensitivity and pain. The thought that I had at 6 AM this morning which kept me up was “Why don’t they care?”
A few months ago I made some really great decisions for myself–I got off of facebook and quit following anyone on Instagram who was a new parent. This decision came after about three failed attempts to get back online and cope with what I saw. Every time I would log back on my grief would make the sweet images of babies feet and happy mothers a tidal wave of unbearable sorrow. I didn’t need that. I made the decision and I feel like it has made me more free to grieve on my own terms. It’s important that we as loss moms maintain some kind of control no matter how small.
Well after doing this for my own sanity I couldn’t help but notice that some people quit following me back. They were no longer commenting on my pictures, videos, or even my blog here. This sounds borderline narcissistic to me when I read it back, but I think the root of this hurt is the fact that I am so sensitive right now and have been since Ella died. My expectations for others probably are too high, but once again the people I am talking about were close to me. That’s why it hurts, because I notice their absence. I hear their silence loud and clear. Silence is the worst thing for a grieving mother to hear. So the thought occurred to me–what would cause people I love and care about to quit following my life and quit caring? Did they really think that I don’t care about them and they are just cutting me out? Did they lack the ability to comprehend why I would remove their feed from my life? Was it really impossible for them to imagine how painful dozens and dozens of pictures of their new family would be for me? I am left guessing that they didn’t understand anything, and that has to be ok with me.
My struggle to remain authentic but pure of heart has been one of the most agonizing trials and fires I’ve ever been through. My heavenly Father has tenderly reminded me time and time again to apply His grace to every situation that stings, and that healing balm of grace will make all wrongs right. It’s so hard to walk this out, and I fail miserably. But I want to love so unselfishly. I want to assume the best. I want to keep no record of wrongs–because I see this as the only right, true, and good way to live. The latter–being bitter, unforgiving and justified is a lonely, cold place to be.
So where do I go from here? How do I let go of the hurt of people acting like she was never here, and I have a “problem.” How do I overlook no calls, cards, or texts on Mothers day. How do I forgive silence? How do I assume the best when it so blatantly feels like the worst wrong that has ever been done to me? I honestly don’t know. A miracle I suppose. Grace is a miracle no matter how we look at it–it’s undeserved favor, love, and forgiveness. I do know that past hurts I have written about on here have been removed–and I feel free of them. I can only hope and walk towards the goal of freedom from judgement and bitterness. It’s ok for me to be hurt ,disappointed, disillusioned and let down–but the fork in the road is always bitterness or grace. I am hurt at their silence and reluctance to say her name. I am hurt that I no longer receive any texts, calls, or comments acknowledging my grief–and their own. In my eyes they lost too, but it feels like her life was so insignificant to them. That’s what hurts the most. Right before I fell back asleep I thought to myself–maybe they would miss my sweet Ella more if I wasn’t her mother.
This post has reminded me to check in on those I’ve been silent with. If you have not experienced a loss their are practical ways of being there and being supportive. Little notes checking in, a meal, an invitation to open up, a sweet text message that says “I’m thinking of you today,” or “I miss her too.” Cookies, flowers, cookbooks, and cheese are always nice too :)! I have a wonderful family member who sends me care packages of goodies almost every week. I realize not everyone can do this, but it is such a healing ministry for me–to know she cares. She doesn’t have to say a lot, but her actions exude love and compassion.
Well thats enough processing for now. I am going to try and live my day in the most free way I can. I miss my daughter–and her life has changed me. She has added so much more depth and compassion to my soul. This is an eternal gift that I can take with me across the threshold of life and death. She has been a part of my refining.