Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Right Where I am 2012: 9 months 21days.

A fellow mother of a dead baby started this last year. Of course, last year we still had Eva. I didn't know about Angie's  Right Where I am project and I had no idea the heartache that was just looming over the horizon. After Eva died I often read some of the posts written last year that had the same dates of where I was at. 3 months 6 days, 5 months 4days,7 months, 14 days etc.etc...They were 'good' for me. I hope this can be 'good' for someone else.

Right Where I am: At 9 months 21days I am still grieving hard. I have cried every single day since her death except one. I distinctly remember that there was one day when I didn't cry. I still missed her like crazy but maybe I just had cried so many gallons that there was one day where the well had run dry before more tears could come. Sometimes I wonder if I could measure my tears, how many gallons there really would be. Or does it just feel like gallons...and really is only a litre or two.

It is the beginning of summer here and I'm having a really hard time being outside. I see Eva walking in the grass whenever we are outside. Somehow, it was easier in the darkness of the winter. Like the darkness outside matched the darkness within me. Now everyone is so cheery and so damn happy with the sun and the flowers and even I enjoy the sun sometimes. But it is hard, because the weather no longer matches my mood and I feel left behind, again. It sucks. And also I feel the heaviness of Eva's sickness approaching.  Every day I think back to what I was doing this time last year. And I know that coming soon, this time last year I was in ER with our baby. It's like a cloud of misery that I know is coming and is weighing me down. 

Today, however, it's raining and that's a bit of a relief. When I was a kid I thought that rain was God crying. Now it feels even more  true. God is crying with me. However, there is one good thing about summer and the rain that comes with it too...and that is a small memorial garden we planted for our little girl. A rock with her name on it in the middle with flowers that the kids picked at the greenhouse planted all around. It's a nice place to sit outside and think of my sweetheart. I've never been a real flower fan, preferring to grow useful veggies instead of flowers but this is another gift from Eva: growing beautiful flowers for her. She was always our smiley little sunflower. And now sunflowers are growing in her garden.

I very much feel like the 'other person'. You know who they are...the people bad things happen to. The 'not us' people. As one mama put it...the statistical anomaly that took the bullet so that everyone around me can breathe a sigh of relief. But one thing I've learned in this miserable journey is that bad things happen to everyone, even the me I used to be. I know that if we were ever blessed with another baby I wouldn't naively assume that the baby would live. That the baby would be healthy. Especially wouldn't assume that the baby would live past 10 months. I also have a strange expectation that one of my sons is going to get cancer or something like it. When they get scrapes (as farm boys often do) I always check to make sure they're healing well and there isn't an immune deficiency or something like that. I have become more of a pessimist in that I wonder what bad thing is lurking around the corner, waiting to dig their claws in.

I can tell already that no amount of editing or tweaking is going to make this one of my very best posts, but it is true. And I am not at my very best right now. It fits, in a way. Right Where I am at 9 months 21 days: Trusting God but...Still hurt. Still grieving. Still wishing. Angry and just plain not at my Very Best. I'm pretty sure I'll never be at my Very Best ever again though.

I'm going to go ahead and post this without over-thinking it. This is Right Where I Am. Today. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Right Where I am at 9 months 21 days.


  1. Oh Em. It is so hard when the outside world seems sunny and joyous and it so often feels at odds with our mood. It makes me feel so sad and wistful and heartbroken to think of your little Eva, who might be walking in the sunshine. I read a recent post of yours about soccer and that image has stayed with me, it's been sunny here too lately.

    I'm glad you have contributed to this project and I know that your words bring comfort to so many of us here, your voice is such a tender and calm one. Does that sound strange? Calm isn't perhaps anything that you can feel consistently after you have lost a child but there is a steady thread underlying your words to me? Perhaps it is faith? Whatever it is, it is beautiful.

  2. Thinking of you and your sweet Eva. You write about her so beautifully, and with so much love. xoxo

  3. I feel that way too, a cautionary tale. I'm so sorry, sending light and love to you.

  4. Thank you so much for stopping by my blog and leaving such a sweet comment! Isn't that crazy about Eva and Caroline's birthday being the same? I think it's nice to find all the small connections that you can with other BLM's other than the loss part. :(

    Love and prayers for you!


  5. I'm not at my very best either today. I'm feeling very alone. And today is Madelynn's birthday, I should be feeling my best, but I don't. So thank you for not pretending or editing, and just posting. Right now, I'm believing that when I am weak, He is strong. When I am not the best, He is the best-always. So that is where I am, Three years eleven months and 25 days. ~R

  6. Hi--I appreciate your openness and honesty. I like how you said you are Trusting God, but still hurting. My son was stillborn on April 14th (his due date). It has been so difficult. I am with you--trusting that God is sovereign and so good but I am hurting so much. and so sad. Again, thank you.

  7. Em, here is a hug right back at you. I so wish Eva was toddling around in that garden...

  8. Oh Em, I wish you could have her back :(

    I am sorry you are not doing well. 9 months was very hard on me too.

    Hoping for you.

  9. Sending hugs and support your way, mama. xx

  10. Thinking of you and your Eva. I remember all of those "this time last year" thoughts and how hard they can be - you described it perfectly as heaviness. I hate that Eva isn't with you, watching her sunflowers grow.

    So much love to you.

  11. Thank you for coming by my blog and leaving a lovely comment. I love your image of Eva as a smiley sunflower - so beautiful.

    And what you said about being the "not us" person is spot on. It's awful being that person and I'm like you - the anxiety I have about my living children is crippling some days. I know too well that the awful, awful fact of our daughter's dying doesn't give us a free pass out of other life events.

    I wish you gentle days, Em.

  12. There is something about nine months. Just seems to hit everyone so very hard. I am so very sorry your Eva is no longer with us.
    Thinking of you in the build up to that fist anniversary.

  13. Em - I didn't know you had a blog until I saw your comment on my post today. I'm glad I found you here. Your voice in the discussion rooms is always so kind and supportive and genuine. I'm so sorry for your loss of Eva. So heartbreaking. Your post really captured what 9 months was like for me as well. Thank you for sharing. Much live to you and your family...