Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Break Becomes an Ache?

I was talking to David about how my grief has changed shape, a little bit.  It isn't the vast empty hole that it once was.  I don't feel like I'm broken completely apart.  My grief is more like a tug now, a soft but persistent longing.  The kind of heartache that is truly an ache I feel in my chest, near my heart.  I can bear it; it doesn't reduce me to tears.  But it is a physical pang that I could never ignore.  

I still have a lot of what-if and should-have-been moments, especially around holidays and the best of times.  We had such a lovely time on our trip to visit my aunt and uncle in Arizona, but I couldn't help but think quite frequently about how different things would have been if we were there with our two year old instead of our 9-month-old.

Don't get me wrong--mostly I'm glad that we're having a kick ass time with the most amazing 9-month-old I've ever known.  I can kick back in the sunshine with ice cream and a baby asleep in her stroller and feel happy and content in a way I wasn't sure was possible for me.

But, some of you know how it is.  The good times are also bittersweet because they should could might have been so different.  

And yet, that way lies madness.  There are no choices to be made here, no hands of time to turn back.  All we can do is take it this life for what it is, and be damn glad that much of it these days is so darn sweet.

On our trip, Zuzu drew her fair share of admirers.  So many people asked me what her name was.  I found myself wishing I got to say Eliza's name as much as I say her sister's.  I LOVE Eliza's name.  I wish I could say it and have people say, "Oh, that's such a pretty name," the way they do, even if they're just being polite.  I wish it was printed on stickers and embroidered on bibs.

I was browsing around online looking at things for the new house, and as I clicked around, I stumbled across these:

from here
The likelihood of me ordering monogrammed towels for any of my children is slim.  But, oh, you guys.  I wish that these were meant for my Eliza.

It doesn't spoil good times anymore, to miss my girl who isn't here.  I miss her, and I'm grateful for all we have.  We really had such a great time, and I don't think I ever felt truly sad, even in the moments I longed for Eliza the most.  But she still tugs at my heart.  No matter how much fun I'm having--and we're definitely having it these days, I'm so glad and relieved to say--there's a part of me that's always longing for her to be there having fun with us.  Always.

14 comments:

  1. Oh, I know.

    Easter is one of those holidays that is always unexpectedly harder than the rest for me.

    Glad you are having fun on your trip!

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  2. Once again I feel like you hit it out of the park.

    I am still broken. It still hurts. I'm still angry. But in a way I feel I can accept it better than I ever could before. Not accept that this had to happen to have this baby, or accept that this was for the best (because I'm still all, "f' that!") but accept that this is the life I do have, no matter how much I wish I could pluck him from my dreams and cement him into my reality.

    And it's not as painful as those early days. But it hurts each and every day.

    I saw those Eliza towels, I saw a Hope canister at Michaels, I see Andrew and Jacks everywhere. I love it, I feel like it's a little reassurance they're "still" around.

    Eliza is a beautiful name. I'm mad I can't have a "Jack" that I can introduce to people, show off, and call his name to get a big smile from him.

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  3. Get out of my head! Seriously though, you are able to write so beautifully about what floats through my head. Watching my parents play with M this past weekend was so nice but I couldn't help but wonder what that would have looked like with 2yr old twin boys instead of one 8 1/2 mo old. The ache is ever present but definitely feeling the joy in a way I could never imagine feeling again.

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  4. I hope I get there too. I feel like it won't happen until I have a take home baby. I'm just waiting for my family to grow. Waiting and waiting. But I know what you mean about the grief changing. It feels less desperate somehow.

    Glad life is bringing so much joy your way <3

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  5. Am so happy for you! Sure that baby can turn lot of heads. Wish many more happy days for you.
    Lopa

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  6. Aw, must be her way of saying hi! I love that name...

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  7. Sometimes I see her name in unexpected places and I think of you. It is a beautiful name!

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  8. I love her name too, so much. Whenever I see it, I think of her.

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  9. I am constantly seeing things in magazines with my boy's name engraved or monogrammed and it breaks my heart that I can't buy them. I want to use his name too.

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  10. I wish those were meant for your Eliza too, they are beautiful. You've captured what grief looks like at this point so accurately.

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  11. YES! So beautifully written. Thank you.

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