In the days and weeks following Piper's death I marched in a slow, painful way through the most basics; eating, showering and breathing. I'm still on this pilgrimage but am gaining strength. My husband, Beau, holds me up while he grieves in his own, quiet, strong way. Our families have surrounded us with loving support while I scream the 'whys' to the universe. My sister friends have loved from near and far. Food, flowers and condolences continue to arrive. I was numb. And then there was the pain.
I'll never be able to thank my village for pointing me in the right direction. This post won't even touch the gratitude I hold for my tribe. There is no right way to grieve but for me not being alone is key. In the beginning, I had several round the clock 'babysitters' who offered numerous distractions and didn't wince when I cried. The silence leaves too much room for sadness. Therapy comes in many forms. Eating all the cookie dough, running, sitting at the beach and snuggling my baby niece. I take every group exercise there is to offer at the YMCA. I hide the mom bod in the back of the room and Zumba through my tears. I journal or watch an entire season on Netflix. Although, I do have a wonderful grief counselor. She is my outside resource, my unbiased confidant. I've tried some group meetings but they aren't really for me. The therapist in me cannot, not participate in providing unsolicited advice. People, although well meaning, say "I can't believe your here {gym, hurling matches, grocery store, bank}". To you I reply, "I can't either". But the alternative is sitting at home in my pajamas, crying until Beau gets off work. Not that this doesn't happen. I still ugly cry {the kind where your face squishes up} almost every time I see someone for the first time after Pipe's death. My grief does not make me uncomfortable. I think you must lean in to it for awhile. It's taken me these few months to realize it is seeing the pain in other's that is difficult. Grandparents without a grandchild; Uncles and Aunts without their niece; Our friends without another nugget running around. The list goes on and it's not a short one. But their pain means she mattered to them. She was hoped for and imagined and she is loved. Her short existence was acknowledged by so many. Our tribe grows daily. So here I am putting one foot in front of the other. But I am not alone. Rest easy Piper Kai.
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This is selfish. It's for me and my pain. I hope it helps to know another mother's journey to this new normal. The new normal is a phrase I hear a lot in the world of mom's who have experienced loss. It's a patient, effortful practice to retrain your heart to beat. My mantra to this new life is "Piper died but I am alive". Sometimes I whisper it to myself or scream it, depends on the moment. You can choose to exist or choose to live.
In the first weeks after my Pipes died I obsessively googled. Statistics, personal accounts, anything to fill the loneliness of not taking home a baby from the hospital. I needed to know I wasn't alone and this pain would not in fact kill me. I needed to know it was survivable. So if you are here; I'm sorry. You must hurt or know someone who is hurting. Piper was planned for and conceived out of love. She was wished for and wanted. Following a happy, healthy and uncomplicated pregnancy my Piper Kai was born still on July 13th, 2016 at 912 a.m. Early the morning of July 11th our baby girl's heart stopped beating and so did mine. She was perfect. 6 lbs, 4 ounces and 20 inches long. She had blonde hair and her Daddy's nose. I held this perfect creature and memorized every inch of her. Breathed her in and kissed her face. Nana, Grandpa, Lolly, Pop, Uncle Ethan and Aunt Carly got to marvel and snuggle my Piper. Saying hello and goodbye all in a single day is the most painful, tragic thing a person should have to endure. She suffered a true knot of the umbilical cord. Which I'm told is very rare occurrence. It's more likely to be struck by lightning, twice. As I write this I am acutely aware of how tragic it is and was for my husband to watch me give birth to our daughter. Yes, give birth. There's a misconception that after your child passes, it's over. It's only the beginning. I was induced and delivered Piper. The process took roughly three days. One day I may feel strong enough to detail those days. As I wander around gathering pieces of my broken heart I've discovered that this was good. It was my last act of motherly love, bringing Piper in to this world as I had intended. She was weighed and measured. Hand and foot prints taken. I miss her and all of the hopes we had for her. I promise to live each day celebrating your life. Rest easy Piper Kai. |
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