As our blog started in the spirit of keeping up our emails, I thought I’d write you back, just as I would have, were your last post to me an email…maybe with less curse words because I still operate under the illusion that there are still people out there who think I’m a lady. And I know you share my love of Oprah (and I’m just going to assume that our readers all do too), and at the end of her magazine she has one column called “What I Know for Sure”. I thought I’d share a little bit about what has worked for me with grief, and what I know for sure, just in case you or maybe someone reading needs it at some point.
First, I’m so glad you’re writing and sharing what you’re going through. I remember first talking to you about what happened and you weren’t sure how to handle that part (which makes complete sense). I believe that when we let people in, we give context and people can handle us more gently. Sometimes this still gets messed up, because 1) we’re human and 2) idiots but I think for the most part, people can better help and support you when they know what you carry. Every time I have told our story and someone responded without shock and judgement it has made this weight easier to carry and I hope the same is true for you. I believe that you give a little piece of the pain away to someone when you share your story and that maybe you carry a little less hurt. I hope that everyone who has heard or read your story now carries a little piece of of this for you and that it makes it easier for you to shoulder.
Second, I want to say, I remember talking this fall about it being hard for you to write about things going well when things were going badly in our lives. And, I never felt that then, but I want to say now, that our heart is broken with your family and while we’re in calm waters at the moment, when you hurt we hurt too and I hope that, even with me writing about rubber toilet seat covers and poo-talking with Ryan Gosling, I hope you know I wish there was something to do to make this all go away.
More than three years after being blindsided by grief that I still haven’t fully written about (but am coming to terms with the need to do), I understand my own grief in a way I never thought I would. I remember writing this post during the first year of the blog. And, coming to understand that Eric and I had figured out how to grieve together and it’s HARD. It’s so hard, you’re both hurting and raw and vulnerable. And honestly sometimes all you can do is HOLD ON. But, you won’t have to figure that part out from scratch again in the future. The sad truth I face is that I know we will grieve together again some day and we won’t see it coming. And, like soldiers who have stood together in battle, you come through these things with shared scars that bond you. Bonds you wish you didn’t have, but a deep understanding of one another and your love that no one else can see. And, you and Adam, you are going through the worst of it. But, you are going through it. And you are together and I promise that tomorrow will be just a little bit easier.
Grief, I have come to learn, isn’t a phase. I think the stages are bs in that, you can’t really check off the boxes and say, there, now that’s done. We lost our baby mid-October and I remember in January getting really pissed off that I wasn’t “over it” yet. I was angry that this was still lingering when I was ready to get on with my life. And, it was right around that time that I gave myself permission to not get over it. And, I hope that you and Adam will give yourselves that permission too. That doesn’t mean sink into a fit of depression. But I think it means to feel okay that this space is still raw and that maybe it has changed you a little bit. Because, in time the magic moments like you had on Monday will come more frequently and it will get easier to breathe even while you carry this grief. This was a huge loss. It was sudden and shocking and close to home. It will hurt always in some way. And, that hurt will lesson but, for me, learning to live with the grief instead off fighting to push it down made my days much more peaceful.
I don’t feel quite wise enough to conclude this other than to say, I hope we get to keep talking about how you’re doing and I hope each day gets a little easier. We’re with you, every step of the way.