Missing Madelyn

I have found that when I'm challenged by circumstances outside of my control that I start to really miss Madelyn.  I'm not sure exactly why that is.  It kind of reminds of falling down and hurting myself as a child and just wanting my parents to be there to help and comfort me.  

Lately I have had a difficult time expressing my emotions.  I may feel sad on the inside, but I can't cry.  I may be angry, but I can't show it.  I have my words, but no emotion behind them.  I still have the ability to laugh when I'm happy, so it's not as if I am "not there".  

 Coming from someone who cries in every Disney movie when bad things happen to cartoon characters...  I just wonder why this is.  Is it normal and healthy?  It's not something I am doing on purpose.  I have also noticed that I don't even get emotional anymore when about talking about what happened to Madelyn.  I've had to say it so many times that the story doesn't even affect me anymore.  Is this the same as when someone does something wrong so many times that he/she convinces himself that it's OK?  Maybe doing something so often causes the story or action to become someone's new "normal".  This may be a normal part of the grieving process.  It just doesn't make sense that when I'm telling my story to someone, he/she has tears in her eyes, but I'm talking as if it's no big deal.

"I will instruct you and show you the way you should walk, give you counsel and watch over you." -Psalm 32:8

1 month old

Our beautiful baby, Madelyn

This grieving thing is not my cup of tea.  I'm not a big fan of surprises and the fact that I don't know how I am going to feel from one day to the next is pretty hard.  Today has been one of those "difficult" days.  Madelyn would have been 4 weeks old today.  Lilly was not sleeping well early this morning so I brought her out to the family room so I could hold her in a comfortable chair.  I was completely "fine"<-- (that's a relative term) until the morning news came on and the news lady announced that it was 6 a.m. on March 1st.  Madelyn came into the world exactly 4 weeks ago.  Whenever I think of her birth, I think about how I was completely clueless at that point as to what was in store for me in the days to follow.  I was prepared to take a child home that could possibly have some developmental delays, not to go home empty handed and immediately start planning a funeral and finding a burial plots.  

The Nursery

As positive as I'm trying to be with this, there are some things that just really suck.  We did not find out that anything could have been wrong with Madelyn until the middle of January, and we did not know what was wrong was fatal until after she was born.  That being said, we had a nursery waiting for Madelyn at home.  The crib was all set up and ready to go along with a new bassinet that I was so looking forward to using once we brought her home.  The walls were painted.  The floor was scrubbed.  New blinds were bought for the windows.  The newborn diapers were stocked, blankets and clothes were washed and ready to be used.  After being at the hospital for over a week, we came home without Madelyn and felt the sting even more when we saw her empty room.

As a way of coping, I filled her crib with everything that we had to remember Madelyn.

Madelyn's room

Madelyn's outfits

I am trying really hard to separate the things that remind me of Madelyn from my memories with Madelyn.  So, we are now in the process of taking apart the nursery.  My dad was nice enough to take care of re-painting the walls.  Jim took the crib down last night.  Putting a nursery together causes your mind to flood with excitement of what the future is going to bring and packing everything away crushes all of those thoughts.  I'm sure a lot of people that haven't experienced this loss are thinking that we will be able to fill this void with another child, but that really isn't the case.  We had hopes and dreams for what our lives would be like with another baby, a sister for Lilly, a different family dynamic.  All of those were taken away from us without much warning.

I don't know if I'm ready to stop referring to that bedroom as Madelyn's room, but it needs to happen at some point.  She lives in us, not in an empty room.

Feeling Marked

There are certain places that I just don't want to go because I know people will look at me differently.  I feel like I'm on display and that people are watching what they talk about around me.

I feel like I need to switch to a different gym because the last time I went to Lifestyle, I was very pregnant.  I really don't want to explain what happened or possibly have a breakdown when I go to the gym.  For me, it is easier to just join a different gym than face reality.

I want people that I'm close with to ask me how I am, but I don't want to go into details with strangers or acquaintances.  I just feel different now.  Every time I leave the house (which isn't that often), I feel like people can tell that my baby died.

What is grief?

My mom just gave me the book "A Gathering of Angels: Seeking Healing after an Infant's Death".  Each chapter has some reflection questions for both the grieving parents and also for the friend's and family of a grieving parent.  Everything I have read so far (I'm 5 chapters in) has been spot on as far as my feelings go.  When someone asks me how I'm feeling, I am most likely going to default to "I'm ok." or "I'm fine."  I've never been one to really tell anyone how I'm actually feeling.  This may be a character flaw, but I've never really thought that people really want to know how I'm doing.

The first chapter asks each of 5 mothers who lost their babies to define grief, so I am going to do the same.

Everyone's definition is different and it probably changes from day to day.  Right now, I feel like I can't really live the way I did before.  I feel like part of me is missing.  After carrying Madelyn for 9 months I got used to her kicking and her hiccups.  I knew when she was more active and enjoyed playing music for her and talking to her.  And now, even though I feel physically more comfortable, I miss her being inside of me.  When I see her pictures around the house, I have to pinch myself because I feel like my time with her was a dream - it happened so quickly.  I didn't have enough time to memorize everything about her and that makes me sad.

I feel empty.

I don't have the energy to do a lot of things I used to do.  I can wake up in a good mood and then something sets me off and I can be totally useless the rest of the day.  While I was in the hospital I literally had problems breathing.  I was so overwhelmed and could not process what was going on.  As soon as I came home, I could breathe.

I feel alone and isolated.  Some people don't even ask about Madelyn or how I'm doing.  I'm not sure if they don't know how to act around me or if they just want to hurry me along in my grieving.  I'm never going to forget about her and she will always be my daughter.  My life is no longer "normal" and I probably won't act like my normal self for a long time.  I really don't have the energy to try either.