September is nearly over

So it is almost the end of September...I don't like September much. I look forward to it being another month past our pain and past reminders of what should have been.  September is the month our Grace was due.  September 30th 2010 was the due date however quite likely she would have been born at the beginning of the month if she followed pattern of my two boys.  So September is a long month for me...the beginning is a reminder and the end is a reminder.  I try to keep busy.  I try to ignore what the days are and what they mean.  They mean nothing to anyone else around me now.  No-one else remembers now that is has been more than one year.  Everyone moves on, but I cant, I don't and I'm still reminded.  Im better than I was.  Some days anyway....Some days I'm ok....some days I smile and I'm actually great and have good days....other days I wallow and I feel so sad and sooooo lost and just want my baby.  Some days I feel like nothing every happened and then I catch a glimpse of a child who would be Graces age, or I see something on tv that triggers everything all over for me.  I was asked if I had watched the latest programme on tv with women in the birthing unit.  Why the f*** would I want to watch that!  Seriously I couldn't bring myself to watch that.  I cant look for too long at the photograph in my room of Grace...I feel too sad and I don't want to go down that dark path.  I want to remember her but I also don't want to feel sadness and pain.  I was asked by someone who knew what happened how I was doing.  It was nice she cared enough to ask because it's been a long time since anyone recognized the fact I still grieve, I still care, I don't just live and forget.  I will never forget.  I spent last Sunday night crying and feeling so upset and this was quite unexpected.  It came from nowhere and the grief was striking me down and pushing me under.  I felt so absorbed in the loss of Grace I could hardly focus on anything else.  It was exhausting.  I was overwhelmed and hurting.  I feel guilty that I haven't blogged for ages.  I feel that I had nothing new to write except my grief and my pain.  I feel guilty I haven't scrapbooked about Grace for ages.  To be honest I just haven't had the time or the energy.  I have to be able to focus and deal with the sadness that comes while looking through images, pretty things to put on a page and know that each photo I scrapbook is closer to being the end of the pile of photos that I can never take again.  I take photos of candles burning that I light for memories,  I take photos of my blossoms and roses that are significant, I take photos of anniversaries, but I can never ever ever take another photo of Grace and that sux, its painful to think about and it pisses me off really.  I'm angry that people have chances to spend time with their kids and they don't.  I'm angry that people hurt their kids and not take care of them.  I'm angry people laugh off the fact they are pregnant again without even trying.  I'm angry that I don't have Grace.  I am angry that I have not had a 'sign' to let me know she is ok.  I am angry that life has changed and she is not here with us.  I am angry that I haven't got 'my girl' and spending time with other little girls is just not the same.  I miss Grace and I still treasure her and wish that things were different.

what they say

this is a post from a blog that I follow and find it very inspiring, truthful and can relate to many of the posts. I especially love this post and wanted to share it.

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/2012/8/18/what-they-say.html

what they say

Today's post isn't going to be lyrical or beautiful.  It's not going to uplift you or share a new perspective on the terrible tragedy of losing a baby.  And it also contains a fair bit of swearing so be forewarned.  

Today's post is about other people, the ones that have all their kids and don't know one single thing about how to talk to us, how to behave like a true friend, how to navigate in our dark depths and instead say incredibly stupid and insensitive things without using their heart or brain before opening their mouths.  So, let's start with my favorite:

"Well, everything happens for a reason."

What I want to say & do in reply:

Oh really?  It does?  So when I wind up my arm and clench it into a fist and punch that person directly in their disgusting, thoughtless mouth, I can just chalk it up to 'everything happening for a reason?'  What a relief!  I thought the Universe was just random, brutal and unforgiving, but here you are with your deep wisdom born of nothing, telling me I can do whatever the fuck I want because hey!  It all happens for a reason!  And the reason you are flat on your back from my knuckle sandwich is because you're an unthinking, insensitive ass.

What I say instead:

I disagree.  There could never be a good reason for my son dying.  What you are saying is very offensive to me, and I would appreciate it if you would keep those sentiments to yourself.  I know you're just trying to help, but it's not and you aren't and please, please stop. (or else, see above, I say with my eyes)

"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

What I want to say:

Hmmm, let's see, no.  Not true.  Some things that don't kill you make you weak and fragile and bitter and sad.  Some things, like losing your child before they had a chance to make a breath or live a day, make you hollow and desolate and open your eyes to how bad life can get.  The strength I relied upon to live through that terrible experience came from who I was before he died.  His death did nothing but rip the naivety and innocence from my soul and lay the world bare in all its brutal viciousness.

What I say instead:

My son dying didn't make me stronger.  It made me nearly dead myself, and I'm not stronger for his death. I would have been made stronger by getting to be his father. What you are saying is painfully insensitive.  Please stop.

"At least you're young, you can have another."

What I want to say:

Wonderful!  Thank you so much for being a fucking idiot.  Because as you know all kids are replaceable. One breaks or dies, just go out and pick up another one.  How about this?  How about I take one of your four kids and raise it as mine?  After all, you've got plenty!  Spare one for someone who misplaced theirs when they fucking died.  How about it?  Since you're such a dumbass you will probably raise awful children anyway.

What I say instead:

Nothing.  I say nothing to those people.  I just look at them for a moment, shake my head and walk away.

"God works in mysterious ways."

What I want to say:

Fuck you.  Get out of my house.

What I say instead:

That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.  If this is God's mysterious way of teaching me some kind of lesson, He/She/It can go fuck themselves.

"Is he your first?"

What I want to say:

Why do you want to know?  Or are you just asking things without thinking about it?  Do you really want to know about my first, about how he died?  About how we are still devastated by his absence?  About all our hopes for him and us dashed against the black shards of death?  Or are you just some blissfully ignorant stranger who can't keep their mouth shut and don't really give one fuck about us at all?  Ah, I thought so.

What I say instead:

No, our first son died due to complications during birth.  Then I just look at them while they crumble into despair and I think to myself be careful what you ask people, they just might tell you the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What insane, awful and horrific things have people said to you when they learn that your child died?  Let's rage on this together with the only people that know the truth and feel a little better by getting it all out for once