It's Raw. It's Real.

Lots of people are treating me as if they expect me to be back to normal but I'm a freaking WRECK! I want to know when I will feel better, when I won't hurt sooo much. I want these nice, easy answers..."In 2 more weeks you will be able to cook dinner for your family." "3 weeks and 4 days from now, you will no longer cry every day." “ In just 2 weeks, 6 days you will be able to walk into a group of people and not feel like throwing up.” I'm not functioning normally (and I think that's okay) but what am I supposed to do?? I don't wanna go on play dates, I don't wanna have sleepovers and I don't wanna clean my house. I killed my garden and my house is a wreck. We've eaten out every night since meals stopped coming because the thought of planning and then cooking dinner might as well be the same as building a new space rocket, that's how overwhelming it is.

I need help, but I don't know how to ask for it. I feel like everyone thinks I should be doing better and should be able to handle things but I can't! A few days ago, while I was at Walmart with Stephen to get some milk, he asked if I wanted him to cook out chicken for dinner and what I wanted to make to go with it. I seriously thought I would have a panic attack right then. I couldn't even think of two side items. I started to cry right there on the baking aisle. He was quick to comfort me and come up with another solution. Dinner seems to be my biggest obstacle. I know the house is a wreck, but it will still be a wreck when I am able to focus enough to clean it, it can wait. But I do have to feed my family every day. Thank God for dollar menus!

This last week has been way way way harder than the last few weeks. I don't know why. I didn't expect to hit a harder patch. I think that made it even worse, since I just thought I would continue to get a little better. I'm not. I feel like I'm going backwards. It's probably 'normal' but it sucks. I hate crying. It's always been something I consider pointless since it doesn't make me feel any better and leaves me with a headache. Even though I have shed tears every day, I haven't really CRIED much. Like sobbing. That's what I've been doing this last week. Feeling pain and SOBBING. I guess I need to do it. Still sucks, still hate it.

People avoiding me makes me feel like a freak. My daughter is never going to undie and this event is never going to unhappen. I'm not sure how long they plan on avoiding me. I realize that people don't know what to say, and many fear saying the wrong things. If you have a lack of words, just say 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you'. I'd rather have you say something, unless you plan on saying something really dumb, like “Oh, my dog died last week so I know EXACTLY how you feel.” Your words are better to be said, not left unspoken. I have a friend that started posting a little heart on my FB page every few days. That spoke volumes to me. No words needed. Nothing you can say is going to take my pain away, but your words do have the power of life and CAN make me smile, make me feel loved and make me realize that you haven't forgotten about my Ila Claire.

When A Child Dies...

A friend of mine shared this with me. I think it's great. I thought I would share it with you all...and I kinda added my thoughts at the end...

1. Never tell us that we are doing *it* wrong. *It* is unbearable and we are doing the best there is to do. Honest. If you would do things differently that is fine. But don't tell us. This is not your job or burden to bear and we DO have to do it and you don't.

2. Don't tell us that they are in a better place. We know heaven is nicer than here, but we like them here just fine and really...it feels like you are saying we are not good enough for our child to stay.

3. Please don't tell us ways to save them. We already want to and can't or couldn't.

4. Don't tell us that God *must* heal our child if we just have enough faith. Perfect healing is in heaven for us all and I have yet to meet a Christian who never died. If faith was all it takes to heal everyone NO one would ever die.

5. It hurts us to be told that losing a child to death by sickness or accident is the same a when your 94 year old grandmother died in her sleep 2 years ago. It isn't the same thing at all. We know you are in pain, but it is not the same thing. At all.

6. Please don't expect us to be back to normal in a month and it is a fallacy to say grieving takes a year. We will never be the same and it will take a long time to find our way again. We will never be *over it*.

7. Please help us. Life is so overwhelming that after the death it is hard to even think of HOW to cook a meal, let alone do it. And if our child has not died yet, please offer to help in any and every way possible. If you are far away, money helps us to buy help.

8. Let us cry. We are so sorry that it makes you uncomfortable, but it is a fact of our life now. Tears will come and it doesn't mean that it is bad to talk about our children, only that we are deeply grieving them.

9. It means a lot to us when you remember our child. Expecially later when it feels like everyone has forgotten.

10. Having another baby is not the answer to losing the one that died.

11. It is NOT easier, or harder, that we have other children. No one can replace the one that died.

12. Please don't watch us as though we are about to throw ourselves into the open grave. None of us likes to be thought of as a freak show. And please think of us as something other than the-lady-whose-kid-died. That is a hard definition to live with. But also please be gentle with us for quite a while. We can't handle rough treatment.

13. We may gain weight, or lose weight, or sleep more, or not sleep at all. We may be sad for a long time. It does not mean something wrong with us. It just means we are profoundly changed.

14. We will never be the same as you once knew us. Please don't expect us to be.

15. Remember that our families are hurting too.

16. We can't help you through our child's death. We recognize that it is hard for many people but please don't lean on us as we go through this. We can't hold you up. We have other people that we have to help already. Come and help hold us up instead please. Pretty please?


Warmly,

Corinne Kligmann

My little notes...

2. ==== A friend of mine that lost her two year old son years ago explained this to me and it is soooo true. My selfish stinginess wants my Ila right here, where I can hold her and love her! There's time for heaven later!



5. ==== Comparison of any kind just really isn't fair. Losing your 94 year old grandmother isn't the same as this, and neither is a miscarriage. I struggle with this a lot. I lost my baby, my daughter, but it somehow seems unfair to those that lost an 15 day old, an 11 month old, a 2 year old or a 17 year old, to call what I am going through 'losing a child.' I would never compare my loss to theirs. It still strikes me that I hurt sooooo much over a person that I only knew as a little bump that kicked me. That's part of what hurts so tremendously. I have no memories with her. Not once did I get to see her wiggle, hear her cry or watch her breathe. That hurts more than I can tell you. What I wouldn't give for just one brief moment to have a memory of her with me!

6. ==== This is something else I struggle with. I know people don't know how to act or what to say, but I promise you this, acting as if everything is the same, is not the answer. I got the first 'real' look at what my life could look like for a while when talking to another mom who went through this very thing, not something similar, but this very thing. She said something that hit me “You might just cry a lot this year. And maybe next year.” That's something I've been wanting to know. When will I not cry every day? When will I be able to cook dinner for my family? I want some text book answer so I know when things might be better, but there are no easy answers. Honestly, for me, it's been much harder this week than it has been for the few weeks before that. Perhaps I was just plugging through, trying to make it through the first month. I dunno. I just know that this week, I'm a mess. I'm not okay, I'm sad. Ask me how I'm doing and I will probably lie. I will say I'm fine or I'm okay. I'm lying. I'm so far from okay or fine. If you ask me in person, I will probably just cry and shrug my shoulders.

7. ==== I always enjoyed the meals after having a baby. You are busy nursing and learning all about each other. Grieving is so much harder. You don't remember to eat or to drink or even to sleep. Everything is a fog. I can't tell you how many days we didn't even eat until someone showed up with food for dinner. I'm still not eating. I don't usually eat until dinner unless I meet Stephen for lunch. It's not because I'm not hungry or I don't want to eat, I simply don't remember to do it. I still can't prepare a meal for my family. My kids are living on cereal and sandwiches. Seriously, if we have a hot meal, it's eaten out or it's leftovers that my mother in law sent home with us. I don't know why I can't function on basic levels like preparing a simple dinner, I just can't. I realize it sounds dumb. It sounds dumb to me. Every task is just so overwhelming!

8. ==== I feel like I am a burden to my friends and family. Who wants to sit and listen to someone cry. And cry. And cry. I hate it. I hate crying and I'm not quick to drop tears. If I cry in front of you, feel blessed that I felt comfortable enough and safe enough with you to let them go.

9. ==== I don't feel like anyone has forgotten....yet. But I do have people that are avoiding me and that hurts. Others are simply acting like nothing ever happened. If I run into you at the store, you don't have to say anything, but maybe a sad smile, or a rub my shoulder or something that just says “I know what happened.” To act like the entire thing never occurred not only pisses me off but it's disrespectful to my entire family, or at least I think it is. It also causes me to panic and think... “Oh crap, they don't know. I have to tell them before they ask me when I had the baby because I don't want them to feel bad.” Then I tell them only to hear “Oh ya, I heard.” I ran into a sweet daughter of a friend the other day. The first thing she said was “I heard about your baby and I'm so sorry.” It was such a HUGE blessing that she recognized my baby instead of ignoring her. It really is a big deal.

10. ==== No it isn't. I do want more babies, I wanted them before I lost Ila and I still do. I would like to get pregnant soon, but that isn't because I want to replace my baby girl, and it is important to me that people understand that. I want to get pregnant soon because I have fear about not getting pregnant again and for me, the sooner the better. It took so long last time that I'm fearful it will take a long time again. And I'm just impatient. Oh, and I'm not getting any younger. I don't like the phrase “Will you try again.” That makes it sound like we tried and we failed. I don't mind being asked if we will have more babies or if we plan on getting pregnant again.

11. ====I tend to disagree with this one just a little bit. For sure, no one is replaceable my anyone else, but I know that for me, having other people that depend on me, like my husband and children, is what makes me get up in the morning. If my mom didn't have 3 daughters and a shizbang of grandkids, I'm certain she would have drank special Kool-Aid after my brother died and ended it all. One gal that I met that lost her only child feels like her entire motherhood was stolen from her. So, to some, it does make it a little easier, or a least a little more important, that will stick around and get through this.

12. ==== I'm afraid to go places. Really. I'm afraid to be around others that know me. Especially groups. I don't know why it frightens me, but unless it's a small group of close friends, I almost want to vomit walking into a situation like that right now.

13. ==== I know I'm hard on myself and I guess I expect others to be hard on me too. I do have a great support system and fabulous friends that assure me I can be a mess. Losing weight surprised me. I'm a fat chick, tend to eat my feeling so when the scale was tipped the other day, I was really surprised! I wouldn't recommend grief as a weight loss method, but hey, I guess I'll take it! Sleep doesn't come easy for me and in the morning I'm soooo tired from not sleeping for most of the night.

B.

Why I'm Afraid of the Dark...

Why I'm afraid of the dark....ok, I'm not really afraid of the dark, but nighttime now brings a new set of thoughts and feelings. When the day settles down and my distractions are few, my mind has time to roll over things that hurt. There is time to go over what happened, remember Ila's sweet face, and miss her so intensely that I usually cry.

If Stephen falls asleep to long before me, I almost panic. I hate being alone. I can do nothing but pray and rebuke the devourer. If I don't, I get attacked. It sucks. I toss and turn for ages. Sometimes, if sleep won't come, I get up. But still, I don't want to be alone. Its at that time when some lucky soul that happens to be online gets all of my emotional vomit in their lap. It's when I really need a listening ear and encouraging words.

In addition to the heartache, I also have a headache. I've had one everyday since i gave birth. At first I figured it was from dehydration and crying, and it probably was, but since now I don't spend the entire day crying and I do remember to drink water, my guess is that it's hormonal. I wake up each day with a light headache but it usually goes away, or it's minimal enough that I don't notice it while going about my day. Evening hits and I start to feel it. It gets gradually worse all evening and by bedtime it's terrible. The longer I stay up, the worse it gets, and it's hard to go to sleep because I have a headache and I'm thinking about my baby girl.

One Month

Today, July 2nd, marks one day since I had my little girl. I expected it to be a hard day. Don't get me wrong, it was hard, but it was not as hard as I expected. The morning was difficult. We got up and started to get ready to go to Enid. The day kind of loomed ahead of me. I knew it would be hard, and it was as if it was already planned out for me, like the weather man saying "and today folks, we have a 100% chance of sadness with a huge possibility of tears".

We ventured out of town and the clock in the van seemed much larger than it really is. As the minutes clicked by I recalled what was happening to me at that same moment a month ago. As the hour of Ila's birth neared, my stomach knotted up. I don't know why the minutes mattered any more than the day itself.

Just as we got everyone into my mother in law's house the tears started to come. I didn't really hide so much as go out of the way a bit to avoid making everyone else sad. My sweet husband 'found' me and loved on me. He's such a great comfort. This last month I haven't wanted to be away from him at all.

We left the boys at Grandma's house and headed out to prepare the lake house for the upcoming holiday. I scrubbed and cleaned all day while Stephen and his dad took care of the outdoor work. It was nice to spend the day helping someone else. I thought of Ila often but didn't spend my day in a puddle, which was what I anticipated after the last couple days being so hard. So many friends offered me such comfort and a needed release just by listening to me talk ( or type ).

As we finished our days work and headed back into town, I started to get that knotted feeling again. We had planned to go out to the cemetery with the boys to show them where she is buried and place a pretty pink pinwheel we picked out. The closer we got, the sicker I felt. I honestly thought I might throw up, literally this time! I sent a text to a few prayer warrior friends of mine and asked them to pray for me. I'm not one to go to cemeteries and put out flowers and such. But for some reason, it was important to me to go there today.

Just how most things turn out, it was different than I expected. When we first arrived I kind of stalled a little at the van while half the family ran on ahead. When I made my way over to my family, I wasn't crying or throwing up. I was kind of a numb feeling for a bit. When Stephen and I started talking is when my tears started to pour out. I love him so much and I'm sad for him too, he also, lost his lil' cupcake.

We talk about our baby, our boys and had a sweet moment reflecting on a special aspect of her name. While gathering up our troops we meander through the cemetery and little Stephen talks to me about a couple of headstones. He questions one that has two names but one name only has one date. I told him it was a husband/wife plot but the wife was still alive. He seemed completely baffled by that and really made a face when I said Meme's headstone was already there. We drove over to where my Dad, grandma and brother are buried to show him. As soon as Danny jumps out of the car he points at my dads headstone, not even knowing it's his Papa's, and yells "I call that motorcycle!!!" It lightened the mood in a perfect way.

Tonight I am grateful that I got to tuck my boys into bed, sing Jesus Loves Me, kiss my husband and remember my daughter. Tonight, with a peace that only God can provide, I will sleep. Today was a good day.