Father's Day Is Hard For Us

(Topic: Grief, dealing with grief, triggers, pictures, loss, stillbirth, pregnancy and infant loss)

Hi Friends,

Charlie was born on Father's Day.

This weekend is so, so hard for us, every year.

It's odd, how my mind works. It doesn't know what date Thursday was that year, or Friday, or Saturday - I only remember the date of Sunday because it was his birthday. But I remember what happened by the day of the week.

That makes Father's Day weekend hard, harder than his birthday date, actually. Because I remember (can't help remembering, which is akin to a PTSD type reaction) based on the time of day and day of the week.

This year, I'm distracting myself to get through it. We're still honoring Charlie with a birthday party, but overall, I'm focusing on other things (and you know, I have plenty of logistical stuff to focus on...).

But I'm triggered by so many things. Even last week, basically anytime in June, I'm much more sensitive. The year Charlie was buried, there were little blue dragonflies in the cemetery constantly. Last weekend I saw teal ones with black wings. Nothing alike, except the vibrancy of the color, and that they were dragonflies. But I cried. I'm on edge constantly, never knowing what thing might remind me.

This weekend is the worst, though.

Thursday was the night Charlie was still fine. The baby was still moving on Thursday, I'm fairly sure. We played a boardgame that night, and I felt him wiggling and shifting. I'd been having braxton hicks all week, so I knew baby was getting ready.

He must have turned to get into position that night, and turned the wrong way and gotten tighter tangled.

Friday something was off. He was sideways for a bit, and I wasn't believed about that, except by my hubby. Baby had been so consistently head down, so I couldn't possibly be right, right?

Saturday was the horrible day. The silent ultrasound. The hospital. All the medical side of it.

Sunday he was born, Sunday we held him.



It's so hard, being thrust into those memories by anything and everything. By noting the day of the week, noting the time of day, just being - just knowing, at this time, this happened.

I don't want to viscerally remember. I want the bad memories to be more distant.



I love Charlie so much. And there was such mixed emotion on his birthday. Seeing his little nose, laughing at his giant hands and feet, after I'd given my best friend such a hard time about her baby's big feet. So many things I remember and never want to forget, but there are so many things I wish I at least had more distance from. So much emotional pain, wracking sorrow.

So, this weekend is hard. This year, I'm leaning toward distractions, and have asked friends to help me find funny or silly or interesting videos to watch (but avoiding trigger issues), so I can laugh, and focus on something besides the deep ache inside me.


This is my baby. I love him, and I miss him so much.

Our family, complete.

My favorite picture from that day. Daddy, holding Charlie.

Yours,

Sarah

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And Charlie Danced

(Topic: Grief, stories, pregnancy, music)

Hi Friends,

Recently I was looking for ways to mother Charlie (I'm feeling the need, since Charlie's birthday is coming up next week on the 19th), and my therapist helped me brainstorm several things - and one of them that caught my fancy was to try writing again. But not writing to Charlie (which I don't like the feel of), or directly about him - instead, I would try writing stories like I would have told to him. And since children like stories about themselves, here is the first story I wrote for Charlie:

And Charlie Danced

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Charlie. When he was very little, and was still in Mommy’s tummy, Mommy and Daddy went to a concert.

It was a special concert, with a very famous violinist playing. His name was Joshua Bell, and he played the violin so well that people came from all over to hear him play.

This concert had an orchestra, and Joshua Bell was going to play the violin solos. Mommy was very excited because she liked the big tympani drums and the way she could feel them inside her bones. Daddy liked all the different pieces that they were going to play. Charlie didn’t know what he would like, because he hadn’t been to a concert before!

When the music started, Charlie waited. He heard the whole orchestra playing. He heard the tympani drums and felt them in his bones. He heard the cellos and the basses playing. He heard high notes and low notes, fast notes and slow notes.

Charlie liked all the instruments, but he still waited to see if there was one he liked best.

Then Joshua Bell stepped forward and began to play, and the orchestra hushed. Beautiful notes sailed through the air and sang to Charlie, and Charlie began to dance. He turned and leapt, and danced with the beautiful singing notes, who trailed gold and red and orange all around him. Joshua Bell danced with his violin, and Charlie danced with the singing notes until the last one faded away.

Charlie had found the music he loved. Charlie loved violin music, all alone and by itself, clear and golden like honey, in so many glistening shades and scales.

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss