Tuesday, September 17, 2013

a poignant sketch

Looking at this breaks me.  It gives me a glimpse of myself, a year ago.  

The anguish.  The guttural feral scream that retched from my gut, in between the breaths that I forced into her little cold body, before the paramedics arrived...this is what I relive most often.  This is me.  

Putting my experience into picture form just says so much more than I could ever say.   Even I can barely look at it.



"Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms. She is breathing, but she is dying. She may look young, but inside she has become ancient. She smiles, but her heart sobs. She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS, but she IS NOT, all at once. She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity." ~Author Unknown



Sorry for the darkness right now.  It's just where I'm at.





18 comments:

  1. Don't apologize, you don't need to.

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  2. It's okay to be in a dark place. Sometimes facing the dark is the only way through.

    Though it sounds trite, you're in my prayers + thoughts.

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    1. Thank you, Samantha. I need to be encouraged like this.

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  3. Wow. This post really hit me hard. I remember that traumatic moment of finding my daughter. It's hard to express how excruciating it feels, no words can really do it justice. But this picture comes close. Thanks for sharing it. And I love the caption below it that describes a bereaved mother. Again, it's difficult to put words to how you're feeling, how even when you're "okay" you're really not okay, and never will be. Thanks again for sharing.

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    1. I know, Lexie. Looking at this brings that moment back.

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  4. Your post of 8/19 - "....out of denial & into the darkness..." As Samantha said, facing the darkness may be the only way through...to the light. I am here beside you, for you, my daughter. Please know you can be raw and not alone. This picture wrenches me as well, as this was what I encountered when I walked through those doors, into "that" room at the hospital on 9/6/12...although Vienne was already out of your arms and entered into eternity. This is the image of pain I relive time and again that brings me to my knees. And yet slowly, by sheer will, I am working to take captive those thoughts and turn them forward to my reunion with Vienne, to think upon what good might she want of all this while we are yet here for a short time on this earth. I really think there is alot behind her demeanor in the dream you had of her. In so many pictures, her eyes echo a knowingness, a wisdom. She inspires me and calms me. And in all this, I know God is there...even when He seems so deafeningly silent.

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    1. Thank you, Mama....for always being available and always feeling with me. I love you dearly.

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  5. I know, don't you love this picture only because it describes the feelings perfectly. I hate that its us who ever experienced these awful feelings...Had to pin it when I saw it.... Thinking of you and your heavy heart. xoxo

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  6. I was thinking about this image as I was laying awake last night thinking about Vienne and your family, as I often do although I do not know you. Your family has made such an impact on my life despite having only come to know you through your blog.

    As I was thinking of you last night, the unfairness of the totality of the circumstances surrounding her death stuck with me. The thought that you did nothing wrong or neglectful haunted me as a mother-- that our children can be taken from us so quickly and there's nothing we can do about it-- is just terrifying.

    You left the room to make yourself a healthy breakfast and read your bible. Not to take a phone call. Not to watch TV. You weren't texting someone or playing a game on your phone. Vienne was not too young to bathe herself. She knew how to be safe in the bathtub.

    But then I questioned for a moment, what if you had been there in the bathroom with her? Would it have made a difference? I hesitate to tell you that because I do not want it to come across as though I am questioning your actions as a mother. But I tell you this only to link it to my next thought... Thinking about what might have occurred had you been there, I was ultimately left with a comforting thought...

    Maybe you weren't supposed to be there. If her little heart was going to stop, there was nothing that you, or anyone, could have done to prevent that. It could have happened anywhere- while she was on the sofa watching a movie with you in the next room or while she was sleeping. We know that her having been in the bathtub made no difference.

    Maybe Vienne did not want you to be there. Maybe Vienne "knew" this was going to happen and "knew" there would have been nothing you could do to help. Maybe if you had been there, it would have been a more difficult experience for you than what you did experience (if it is at all possible that there is anything worse than what you've gone through). Maybe Vienne wanted to spare you of something worse.

    As I type this out, I'm afraid it does not come across as comforting as it was to me last night, and I'm hesitant to post it. But in case it can provide any comfort, I will send it. I hope that it does not cause any additional pain. Please delete my comment if it makes you at all uncomfortable.

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    1. Thank you for being bold and sharing this with me. I truly appreciate your heart. It is always encouraging to me when I learn that others have wondered the same things that I have wondered. I think about how it would've been had I been in the bathroom with her. Of course, I have to admit that, for me, I feel I would rather KNOW how things happened than not know. I do wish I was in there so that I could be FULLY convinced that there was absolutely nothing that I could've done to prevent it. The not-knowing will always eat at me.

      I am not offended by your sharing at all. I appreciate the speculation and your boldness.

      Thank you for reading and staying current. It just means so much to me.

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  7. Never ever be sorry for what you are going thru and will for the rest of your life. Many people will never go into the place you are. I have a good friend who lost her daughter at 21 years old to a DUI death and it has been 33 years. Then 2 years later, I think from a broken heart her husband died from a blood clot after gall bladder surgery. Her life will never be the same, but talking about Anna, brings some peace to her. I do not know you but you are in my thoughts and prayers. I think that because we carry these babies for 9 months gives us a connection like no other. I am so sorry for you. I am a grandmother to a 5 year old and as grandparents it is a different kind of hurt and sadness, because we feel hopeless to our child going thru this pain, that we never had to go thru. XO Dina Ochs Tallahassee, Florida

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    1. Thank you, Dina. Your comment means a lot. That is so sad to hear about your good friend. Any story of loss is so hard. Now that I am part of that horrible "club", I have learned just how fragile life is and that it does happen all around us. I hate that.

      Yes, that connection that a mother has to her baby whom she carried within...and then released into the world, living on with her blood....there is no connection like it. I gave her a piece of me, literally...and so with her that piece of me died, as well. It is a wretched feeling...trying to reconcile living with death.

      Thank you again for sharing.

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  8. I don't know you but it breaks my heart that you have to go through this:( Thoughts, prayers and virtual hugs are being sent your way! Never forget your sweet girl is still with you...not in the same way as before but she's there watching over you!

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    1. Thank you so much for your encouragement. xo

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  9. I have never had a child; I have never lost a child. But that picture pulls from me emotions I never knew existed. It is amazing.

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    1. Thank you for your comment, Tracie. That means a lot.

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