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That Month is upon me. The month that feels like a downhill slide towards The Day. It starts out with Mother's Day (which I thankfully already made it through), my birthday (this weekend), and the anniversary of my daughter's death (following weekend). Like last year, I'm relatively certain nothing will happen on the same date this year. If nothing else, it just reminds me of the horrible thing that happened two years ago.
And once again, no mention of it (yet?) by either my parents or my husband's. Small side note here--I have had just enough of my controlling father who just doesn't listen to me (or anyone else) and hasn't been supportive through all of this. So for now, we're not speaking. And I'm good with that.
Last year, I got more and more tense until the date arrived, but the actual day wasn't that bad. This year, I had a couple of tough weeks towards the end of April but am feeling a bit better now. The flashbacks seem to have started up again, and I find myself re-experiencing the day she died.
I'm now 30 weeks pregnant, and with my husband putting in long hours at school, I'm alone a lot with my daughter. This seems to have resulted in two things. First, at just over 2 years of ago, she seems unusually tuned in to my emotions. We'll be in the car, me driving, her in the carseat in the back. I'll get sad, sometimes won't even be crying or anything, and she'll start to yell "Mama! Mama!" until I respond.
The other thing is, I find myself wondering how life would be different if my daughter hadn't died. I've thought about this often over time, but had kind of stopped for a while. Something about the anniversary has brought it back. And I don't just think about her life, or our family's, I think about how her death may have changed the lives of everyone I know. Would my friend's house have caught fire last year, if the year before she hadn't been at my house making sure I ate the day after my daughter died? Would my other friend have lost her house if she hadn't been there taking care of the baby when I went to the hospital to say goodbye to my daughter?
There are no obvious connections, obviously. It's more of a butterfly effect--the tiny things that happen somewhere, to someone, that somehow affect us, change the courses of our lives in ways we can never imagine. I can think of a million big things that would be different--we'd still live in our old house, my husband might already be done with school, I might not be pregnant now. I wonder about some of the others--would my younger daughter be talking more? Would she be easier to potty train since she'd see her sister doing it?
Oddly enough, I can tell you I probably would still be talking to my dad right now if my daughter had survived. Losing her was so...life-changing. It's the straw that broke the camel's back. Initially I was timid, afraid to leave my house or be around anyone other than the few people who helped us at the time. As time goes on, I become less willing to put up with anyone who won't listen to me, ridiculous demands, or anything that's basically a giant drag. I do think I've managed to avoid becoming completely obnoxious. In fact, I think I may have become even better at being tactful when necessary and direct if the situation demands it.
The butterfly effect. What will happen to change my life today?
I think it's hard not to ask these questions in our lives. We tend to ask them even for good things (e.g., "what if my husband & I had never met?"), but when we have experienced a tragedy, those "what ifs" can become all the more compelling.
ReplyDeleteJust wanted to let you know that I am reading this and am thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteI find myself wondering where in this butterfly chain of events it all went wrong from - my dad buying the tractor, my brother planning his wedding, me going to the hairdresser in the morning of the day, ... - and whether anything could have possibly prevented these tragedies you and I have to live with every day. Yet I am getting to the point of at least understanding (not accepting) that I am not getting answers to any of this. Anyway, for know I hope you can at least feel supported by knowing that there are other mums trying to survive.
For me, I think about the butterfly effect in terms of Salome's legacy. For a baby who lived for only 2 1/2 days and never left the hospital, Salome did have a significant legacy, not just for us but for people around us. I have asked people what the positive impact of Salome's life has been for them, and I have sometimes been astounded by what they say.
ReplyDeleteIn some ways this gorgeous new baby of ours is part of Salome's legacy too. We would not have had another child if Salome hadn't died. He will grow up knowing that. I will do my best to make sure this isn't a burden for him, but it's a tricky one.
I'm in the happy sleep deprived land of the breastfeeder, and don't get to write often, but I will be thinking of you on Saturday, and wishing you peace and comfort on that day.
I don't seem to think about what would happen if good things had turned out differently, at least not as much. Maybe for me it's a case of wondering about the greener grass? When I'm standing on the grass that appears green, I don't wonder about the other side of the fence.
ReplyDeleteNadja, I do the same thing, all the time. I can wish myself back to before my daughter was even born if I "what if" long enough. I think the only thing that's stopped me from doing that ALL the time is that I got tired. I did it so much in those first few months, the first year, that I literally exhausted myself. It sounds negative, but I'm hoping you do the same. It really is an eventual relief.
Sophie, I've met so many people who remember my daughter, some are friends of friends who met her once. It's amazing the impression her life made, and I know her death impacted many of them to. I would be curious to hear what positive impact she had on them. I don't remember anyone ever sharing that with me. Glad to hear you and baby are doing well, and thank you for keeping me in your thoughts.