Grief

Grief doesn't go away ... it changes, yes, but at times it's as raw today as it was forty weeks and five days ago ... If I'm being truly honest, I am broken. Don't get me wrong, I function just fine. And in so many senses, I truly am "ok". I go to work, I clean the house, do the laundry. I even smile and have fun with P. I know that despite it all, I have a good life. But inside, I am broken. On a near daily basis, it feels like my heart is ripped out of my chest, thrown on the ground and stomped on. And every day, I try and pick up the pieces. It is hard. Some days, I am just resigned to the fact that this is my life and I wonder if it ever really happened. Surely I couldn't endure this?! And others, I just hurt. I am constantly transported to the delivery room. I relive that day over and over and over again. I dream about it and wake up sobbing ... I miss Brienna. I ache for her and I want her back in the worst way ...

I found this poem and it made me cry and cry. This is how it feels. How can I call anyone and scream that my daughter is dead? I couldn't do it two days after she died and I certainly can't do it now. P is the only one who knows, so I talk to him. He gets the ebbs and flows, the roller coaster. The ability to be bawling one minute and laughing the next. I alienate myself from everyone else because pretending to be fine is exhausting. Every single relationship I have has changed because Ihave changed. To the core. This is a lonely road. I'm getting there, but it's hard. They say time heals, and I guess to a certain extent, it does. But it doesn't change the fact that I long for my baby. For the little girl she should be becoming ... time can't heal the fact that I am here and she is not.

A Mother's Grief

You ask me how I'm feeling,

but do you really want to know?

The moment I try telling you

You say you have to go

How can I tell you,

what it's been like for me

I am haunted, I am broken

By things that you don't see

You ask me how I'm holding up,

but do you really care?

The second I try to speak my heart,

You start squirming in your chair.

Because I am so lonely,

you see, no one comes around,

I'll take the words I want to say

And quietly choke them down.

Everyone avoids me now,

Because they don't know what to say

They tell me I'll be there for you,

then turn and walk away.

Call me if you need me,

that's what everybody said,

But how can I call you and scream

into the phone,

My God, my child is dead?

No one will let me

say the words I need to say

Why does a mothers grief

scare everyone away?

I am tired of pretending

as my heart pounds in my chest,

I say things to make you comfortable,

but my soul finds no rest.

How can I tell you things

that are too sad to be told,

of the helplessness of holding a child

who in your arms grows cold?

Maybe you can tell me,

How should one behave,

who's had to follow their child's casket,

watched it perched above a grave?

You cannot imagine

what it was like for me that day

to place a final kiss upon that box,

and have to turn and walk away.

If you really love me,

and I believe you do,

if you really want to help me,

here is what I need from you.

Sit down beside me,

reach out and take my hand,

Say "My friend, I've come to listen,

I want to understand."

Just hold my hand and listen

that's all you need to do,

And if by chance I shed a tear,

it's alright if you do to.

--Kelly Cummings

I love you Brienna Marie ...