by Cindy Early, November, 1999. (Copied from the "old" MISS site.)
The day my child died, I fell into the pit of grief. My friends watched me struggle throught daily life, waiting for the person I once was to arise from the pit, not realizing "she" is gone forever.
The pit is full of darkness, heartache and despair, it paralyzes your thoughts, movements and ability to think. The pit leaves you forever changed, unable to surface as the person you once were.
Some of my pre-grief friends gather around the top of the pit, waiting for the old me to appear before their eyes, not understanding what's taking me so long to emerge. After all...in their eyes, I've been in the pit for quite some time. Yet, in my eyes, it seems as if I fell in only yesterday.
Not all of my pre-grief friends gathered at the top of the pit. Some are helping me with the climb out of the darkenss. They climb side by side with me from time to time, but mostly they are waiting patiently at each plateau. Even with these friends I sometimes wonder, if they are, also, waiting for the pre-grief me to magically appear before their eyes.
Then, there are the casual aquaintances, you know the ones who say, "Hi, How are you?" when they really don't care or really don't want to know. These pople are the people, who sighed in relief, that it was my child who died and not theirs. You know, the "better you, not me" attitude.
My post-grief friends are the ones who climb with me, side by side, inch by inch, out of the pit of grief. They have no way of comparing the pit climber, to the pre-grief person I once was. You see, they started at the bottom of the pit with me. They are able to reassure me when I need strength. They have no expectations, no memories and no recollections of how I "should" be. They want me to heal, to smile more often and find joy in life. But they've also accepted the person I've become.
The person emerging from the pit.
I would just like to add a few thoughts,
To my pre-Natalie friends; I believe that you are the ones holding the flashlight for me so I am not climbing in the darkness. You are the ones that throw me the rope to hang on to, and pull me up when I am lagging behind.
To my after-Natalie friends, the moms that are suffering their own losses of their precious babies, but somehow find the strength and courage to reach out and help me find my way. We are in the pit together, and all take turns occasionally slipping down to the bottom again. When I fall, they help pick me up, and when they falter I try to do the same for them. Without them, I am afraid I would ever find my way out.
God Bless you all,
Heidi, mommy of ~i~Natalie, and Austin
STOPPING THE BABY MAIL:
send your name and address to:
Mailing Preference Service
P.O. Box 9008
Farmingdale, NY
11735
stop the phone solicitations at:
Phone Preference
P.O. Box 9014
Farmingdale, NY
11735
Lord knows, I don't have all the answers, none of us do. But I read a wonderful description of another mothers feelings, and have adopted it as a way I can make some sense of what happened to Natalie. I'd like to share it with you in hopes that perhaps it will be of some help to one of you too.
I like to think that Natalie's heart defect wasn't something that "happened to her", like an illness. It was the way she was created, and the only way that she could exist. Without her heart defect, she wouldn't have ever been in my arms. It was so much a part of who she was, just like her double chin, and long skinny fingers. Maybe I could have had a "perfect" baby, but it wouldn't have been Natalie. And there is no doubt that we would gladly take even a minute of precious time with Natalie over an eternity with a different child. We were so lucky to have known her, to have had her touch our lives the way she did. And yes, it's so very sad that she is gone, but we were so blessed to have had her the 6 days we did.
I believe that God knew that she would only live a few days, and he sent her to us because he knew that we would love and cherish her more than anyone else possibly could. Not because we could "handle it" or because it would make us better people, but because we would love her forever and always keep her memory alive.
She was meant to come to us. And although we are so sad and miss her so much, we are so
very grateful to be able to call ourselves her parents.
This image touched my heart, as did the little angel on the main page.
to all of us. It was read at Natalie's funeral. It seems to say it all perfectly.
On your journey to heaven,
Oh, littlest of angels,
I'll forever give thanks,
You came first to my arms,
Where you lay in warm sweetness
For the briefest of moments,
My name on your bracelet....
Baby girl of my own.
Not even the rosebud,
Nor the first crocus petal,
Could match the soft wonder
Of your small, flowering face...
Thought you lingered, oh briefly,
Our torn hearts found comfort,
And your fair, infant presence
Gave our sorrow a grace.
Etched in our memories,
To hold and to treasure,
Are experiences we had not known:
These you gave, in your innocence,
To your mother and father:
And oh, little darling,
We are righer by far,
To have held you a moment,
Then never to have held you
At all.
Author unknown.
