Allowing brokenness
It's been a rough week or so.
I started seeing a grief counselor on Tuesday. I went into her office and cried for a solid hour. I was so exhausted when I got home. But I think it helped. She had me write a list of all the things I felt like I was grieving. I was surprised at how long the list became. She asked how I treat myself and I said I just tell myself to keep going because things have to get done and I just have to deal with it. She gently told me that if it was one someone I loved going through the things I was going through, she didn't think I would be treating that person like that. I would probably be treating them with love. So don't I deserve the same from myself? I know that sounds like a no-brainer, but it was profound for me.
Through our conversation, she asked if I had done anything to remember or commemorate the baby I'd lost. A few days after the miscarriage started, I had bought a beautiful box and I took everything related to my pregnancy and put it in the box. The positive test that had sat on my dresser, the ultrasound picture, the journal...and the little teddy bear I had bought the day I found out. I gently put it all in the box, cried an unreal amount of tears, and put the box under my bed. I hadn't opened or touched it since. But every time I looked under the bed, it was there....and hurt my heart. I'd thought about opening it, but was too afraid of the pain I knew it would bring.
She led me through a relaxation exercise. She had me close my eyes and breath. Then to find the place in my body where the pain was gathered. She talked about treating it with love, allowing it to be and exist - stop fighting it and just allow it to be there.
When I got home, I felt this strong pull to go to that box under my bed. So I did. I pulled it out and opened it for the first time since packing it away. I picked up the little bear. I held it and I sobbed. I thought about the baby I would have given it to. Who would have loved it and held it and slobbered on it. When my tears slowed, I found myself reluctant to put the bear back in the box. It seemed linked with my child and I didn't want to just pack it away and forget about it. I didn't want it to be lonely and cold under my bed. On my dresser sit 2 other bears - one my mother made and gave to me for my first Christmas when I was 3 months old and I slept with until I got married (yes, at 30 I still slept with my teddy bear). The other bear Matt had sent to me with flowers right after we met and I was very sick. I tucked my baby's bear into the arms of the first bear, cuddled in with the bear from Matt. And I felt peaceful.
It was a powerful experience. Very symbolic, I think, of my emotional battle. I think that I have packed away my pain and fear and sadness and tried not to feel it in its entirety. I think that I thought I could pack away the experience in a box and then it wouldn't hurt so much. I was afraid it would destroy me, so if I put it away it couldn't. But pain doesn't go away, it can't be packed neatly into a box. It only gets stronger that way. It will find a way out.
I think that I thought I would be pregnant again by now. I hoped anyway. And if I could just get pregnant again quickly, then I could leave that pain behind and not be destroyed by it. But as time passes, and I'm faced with another month of empty arms, the pain keeps building. I feel so full of fear and sadness that there just is no longer room for any other emotion. It pushes them all out, demanding to be heard.
I realized that in order to heal, I have to allow the pain to be heard. I have to allow it to be felt. I have to treat it - and myself - with love and acceptance. I'm not very good at that. Maybe that's the lesson. Maybe that's what needs to come of this experience. To really learn to love myself. To treat myself with love, tenderness, and caring.
I started seeing a grief counselor on Tuesday. I went into her office and cried for a solid hour. I was so exhausted when I got home. But I think it helped. She had me write a list of all the things I felt like I was grieving. I was surprised at how long the list became. She asked how I treat myself and I said I just tell myself to keep going because things have to get done and I just have to deal with it. She gently told me that if it was one someone I loved going through the things I was going through, she didn't think I would be treating that person like that. I would probably be treating them with love. So don't I deserve the same from myself? I know that sounds like a no-brainer, but it was profound for me.
Through our conversation, she asked if I had done anything to remember or commemorate the baby I'd lost. A few days after the miscarriage started, I had bought a beautiful box and I took everything related to my pregnancy and put it in the box. The positive test that had sat on my dresser, the ultrasound picture, the journal...and the little teddy bear I had bought the day I found out. I gently put it all in the box, cried an unreal amount of tears, and put the box under my bed. I hadn't opened or touched it since. But every time I looked under the bed, it was there....and hurt my heart. I'd thought about opening it, but was too afraid of the pain I knew it would bring.
She led me through a relaxation exercise. She had me close my eyes and breath. Then to find the place in my body where the pain was gathered. She talked about treating it with love, allowing it to be and exist - stop fighting it and just allow it to be there.
When I got home, I felt this strong pull to go to that box under my bed. So I did. I pulled it out and opened it for the first time since packing it away. I picked up the little bear. I held it and I sobbed. I thought about the baby I would have given it to. Who would have loved it and held it and slobbered on it. When my tears slowed, I found myself reluctant to put the bear back in the box. It seemed linked with my child and I didn't want to just pack it away and forget about it. I didn't want it to be lonely and cold under my bed. On my dresser sit 2 other bears - one my mother made and gave to me for my first Christmas when I was 3 months old and I slept with until I got married (yes, at 30 I still slept with my teddy bear). The other bear Matt had sent to me with flowers right after we met and I was very sick. I tucked my baby's bear into the arms of the first bear, cuddled in with the bear from Matt. And I felt peaceful.
It was a powerful experience. Very symbolic, I think, of my emotional battle. I think that I have packed away my pain and fear and sadness and tried not to feel it in its entirety. I think that I thought I could pack away the experience in a box and then it wouldn't hurt so much. I was afraid it would destroy me, so if I put it away it couldn't. But pain doesn't go away, it can't be packed neatly into a box. It only gets stronger that way. It will find a way out.
I think that I thought I would be pregnant again by now. I hoped anyway. And if I could just get pregnant again quickly, then I could leave that pain behind and not be destroyed by it. But as time passes, and I'm faced with another month of empty arms, the pain keeps building. I feel so full of fear and sadness that there just is no longer room for any other emotion. It pushes them all out, demanding to be heard.
I realized that in order to heal, I have to allow the pain to be heard. I have to allow it to be felt. I have to treat it - and myself - with love and acceptance. I'm not very good at that. Maybe that's the lesson. Maybe that's what needs to come of this experience. To really learn to love myself. To treat myself with love, tenderness, and caring.
Replies
This is beautiful. Your insights. And your emotions. As painful and immensely difficult as they are. I love that you held the teddy bear and cried with it and decided to leave it out and tuck it into the arms of another.
I bought a stuffed bunny after our baby passed away in December. Because the emptiness was so palpable at night..I needed a little someone to hold all night long. I sleep with bunny every night....and like what you described about the bear...the bunny has come to symbolize the baby and I don\'t like bunny to fall on the floor at night and be cold.
So here I am at 40 sleeping with a stuffed bunny. But whatever works. I have the baby\'s ashes in a basket on the nightstand close to me at night.
It is so true that you just need to whatever you need to do to let things flow. However unpleasant or unattractive that may \"seem\".....it is actually beautiful to let your body express what it needs to express.
It sounds like you have found a very \"in touch\" grief counselor. And that she will help you weather this storm.
I especially loved your last few sentences about treating yourself with love, tenderness and caring. If ever there was a time that a woman needed this most for herself, it is now.
I like the title as well---Allowing brokenness.
I am having (myself) a particularly broken kind of day.
Thank you for sharing your experience. I can feel your pain. Sending you thoughts of comfort.
Your explanation of your experience is so very powerfurl. I am so glad you went to talk to someone, as nobody should feel alone. And you are absolutely right. The pain needs to be fully acknowledged before it will allow you any relief. I am glad you took the bear out of the box. That was significant in itself, and your baby deserves to be celebrated as well as grieved. Thinking of you.
I am glad you are working through and finding healing. Its def not an easy processing and although we would love for the feelings to just go away, thats unfortunately not how it works :-/
I think many of us (myself) included just put on our best Dory impression and \"just keep swimming\". When what we really need to do is be still and allow ourselves to be broken so that we can then find our way to healing.
I commend you for seeking out help with this journey towards healing and pray that you do learn to love yourself because sister YOU ARE WORTH IT!
Thinking of you XO
I\'m so glad you saw a counselor and that she\'s already had an impact on you. It\'s interesting how we treat others with compassion and use none of it on ourselves. And I\'m a firm believer in cleaning up our wounds before we muddy the waters with new relationships/circumstances, etc. I know that women who\'ve miscarried think that a new pregnancy will help heal them, I did not find that to be the case. I thought I was pregnant about 3 months after our miscarriage and I flipped out, I wasn\'t ready. We did get pregnant 6 months after our miscarriage and I was doing better, I had more time to heal, but it still did impact that pregnancy, not only for me but for my hubby. Neither of us felt comfortable bonding with baby or planning for baby, or even tell anyone about baby. I know it\'s hard but take this time to continue to heal, you won\'t regret it.
What a heart-felt journey entry. I can just visualise your little bears sitting there together. Sending you loving thoughts :-)
WOW. That\'s all I can say right now.
This was incredibly moving and beautiful. Thank you for sharing :)