Some days will be easy. Some days will be hard. Some days will be a mixed bag. You’ll expect some days to be easy and they will be hard. You’ll expect some days to be hard and they will be easy. There is no rhyme or reason to when or how the difficult days come and go. In the long run it will be easier to just remember that the grief can come seemingly out of nowhere, sometimes for the most irrational reasons. You’re not crazy. It’s not wrong. It’s grief and it’s unpredictable.
My daughter was stillborn three days before Christmas. I thought I would hate Christmas. But honestly, I was so glad Christmas was there. I had something to do, something to focus on, instead of my pain and loss. Christmas Day was a fun-filled, busy day with lots to do and close family who knew my pain helping me through it. A day I thought would be tear-filled and so very hard turned out to be much better than I’d anticipated.
Almost two weeks after Faith died, I’d had a pretty good day. My husband, six year old, and I went for a walk. There was yummy food from friends in the fridge. Laundry was washed, dried, folded, and put away. We went to dinner with my husband’s family at a restaurant we all liked to celebrate a couple of birthdays. After dinner, I headed over to the store to purchase a few odds and ends. Then, it happened.
There, in the produce aisle, she was there. A woman I hadn't seen in almost two months stood before me, smiling, asking if I’d found out if my baby was a boy or a girl. My good day instantly turned dark and difficult. So far, everyone I’d encountered knew our baby had died but here, before me, was a woman expecting to hear one of the most exciting parts of pregnancy. Instead I had to share with her a mom’s worst nightmare: my daughter was dead.
I knew it would happen. I read about encounters like this on another blog discussing miscarriage. I thought being aware would make me prepared. But there is nothing to prepare you with sharing the news your baby has died. I fought back the tears as I shared the news. She said all the right things and gave me a hug. It wasn't her fault that I was trying to avoid a meltdown right next to the bagged lettuce.
Difficult days will come. You won’t expect them. You cannot prepare for them, even if you know they will come. You are walking through the hardest thing in life: losing your child. You will feel like you are losing your mind, feel completely irrational. But you’re not crazy, you’re not irrational. You’re a grieving mother.