Yesterday Lucy would have been two months old. I’m really struggling with the idea that a little over a week ago I held our little girl in my arms, and now I’ll never hold that sweet baby again. It seems so unreal. I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my mind; at any given time, I either feel intense pain or nothing. During the times that I feel nothing, I can function, but I have a really hard time controlling myself. I’m not very pleasant company at all right now – I’m scattered, irritable, and can’t seem to focus on anything. Everything seems disjointed, and the smallest things bring me to tears. I’m lucky to have an incredibly supportive and understanding family, and a wonderful husband who is doing his best, just as I am.
I’m writing this for two reasons: because it’s useful for me to try to talk about it – it helps to put things in perspective – and also so that any other grieving parent who finds their way here knows that they’re not alone in these bizarre, difficult feelings. In the future, when things settle down a bit, I plan to split this blog into two parts, so that our experience with Lucy has its own dedicated section. Because I need to keep talking about her, and about my life without her, but I realize that eventually I’ll have to start thinking about other things again (and that some people will get tired of reading about how sad I am). My original 30 before 30 list of goals seems like a good place to start. Getting back to all the things that interested me before Lucy came seems wrong right now, and thinking about writing a non-Lucy blog post makes me feel guilty. But I guess it’s not really that I’m just going back to life the way it was before she came to us, because she’ll always be with me in everything that I do. It feels like she’s as much a part of me now as she was when she started life inside me.
Every night, before I go to sleep, I hope that I will dream about my little Lucy Anne. Until last night, I never did. Last night, though, I dreamed that she had been moved to another place, and when I opened the door, there was Lucy, healthy and happy in her crib. I sat down while David reached in and picked her up, then he put her in my arms. I held her in my dream, marveling at the beauty of her sleeping face, until I woke up this morning. I hope I never stop dreaming about her.
Jilly, all the emotions you are.feeling are all normal, if you want to talk about Lucy then you should, you will hold her again someday, don’t lose faith my darling. I would look at that dream as a way of God showing you Lucy is ok and happy and healthy! Its ok to smile, cry, scream and be in incredibly sad, there is not a soul out here who would judge you. You are an incredible woman and mom Jill don’t ever forget that. I love you Jilly Bean.
I second you Wendy! Jill you are one heck of a strong mother!! And a beautiful soul, heart, And woman! There’s not many that could do as you have even though you might feel you have failed that is not true you never gave up and you never will even though the world is dark an dreary now there will be light.. And feeling all that guilt it’s hard but Lucy would not want you to feel that way it’s ok to laugh and smile that’s what she’s lookin over you looking for she wants to see her wonderful mommy sliming up at her!! Sending you so much LOVE <3<3
She wants to see her wonderful mommy smiling up at her**. Sorry
She knows your wonderful she loves you and David so much know she and everyone of us love you and are here for you!
I wish I could say or do more! Just try and stay Lucy’s strong mom let her be here for you as you need here thoes dreams are a god send!
Wendy said it perfectly. You are allowed to grieve however you need to. We are here for you and will listen as long as you feel you want/need to share. Life will never be the same. It can and will be good, just different. Your little angel will always be with you.
You are so strong. And living your life is the biggest and best tribute to Lucy that you can possibly give. Don’t ever think that we, strangers though some of us might be, will ever tire of hearing (reading) your feelings. The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful – it’s you. It’s healing. It’s life. And it’s exactly what we are here for. Lucy was lucky to have you. Just as any future kids you may or may not choose to have will be. Lucy’s light will shine on you, on your family, forever. Much love, much strength and much support coming your way.
You’re dealing with such a hard, horrible, confusing, disorienting and incomprehensible thing – and you have to deal with it however seems right for you – don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! So share as much as you want to, keep private as much as you don’t. Move on a little when the time seems right for you, try not to feel guilty about it when it does happen, and most of all, don’t worry about forgetting Lucy, because she’ll always be a part of you. Thinking of you from half-way around the world. x
Jill, I don’t know what to say, I have been away from the blogging world because my daughter gave birth to a premature baby also, and only now I found out about Lucy. I feel so sorry, You were all so strong all the way and I know that only you know the intensity of the pain of losing your child, but you all did the best you could I’m sure, and time will give you peace of mind. Yes, write about it, talk about it, shout about it! We will all be with you! God bless you all!!
Thank you Renata. I hope your daughter and grandchild are doing okay – I’ll keep your family in my thoughts.
Jill, I am so very sorry for your loss. You, David and Lucy are in my thoughts.