Saturday, November 05, 2005

My new life

There is something different about us in our grief now. We visited the cemetery today...together as a family. Sam was thrilled to be out and about and spent his time flitting from grave to grave, righting the toppled flower arrangements and decorations. I said to Steve, "It's different now." I thought he would think I'm crazy. Instead, he looked at me and said, "I know. It's like I've turned a corner. I did the last thing I could do for him and now there's nothing else left to do for him." I don't know if he realizes that he's wrong...and I don't know how to tell him just yet.

We have lawyers involved now. That's probably going to get really complicated before all is said and done. And I will personally, to my dying day, tell women about the dangers of intrauterine infections. Despite their being "rare" or "unusual," they are completely treatable. Nobody should lose a baby because of a lack of information...NOBODY.

So there is still a lot we can do for Alex.

But it is still different.

When we went to see David's play, I was struck by how David had rolled his experience into the fabric of his being. It had become a part of him. For a very long time, it was just the opposite for me. I was a part of the experience of losing Alex...it was my whole life. I saw the key to moving forward as weaving the experience into my life...making it a part of my life instead of my entire existence. The basic concept is that I couldn't let my loss of Alex define me. I had to define it WITHIN the context of my life. (I'm not sure I'm explaining this appropriately.)

Somewhere along the line in the past six months, I've had the opportunity to have days where the good outweighs the bad. I think I'm starting to fold it all up into its appropriate place in my life. There are still days when it is all-consuming...where I literally can't breathe for the weight of the pain. But those days are more evenly spaced apart now...with periods of time where I can feel my own life seeping back in around the edges. I can see it coming back. Sure, it's different than the life I had before...and it's not the life I would have chosen...but at least it's something more than pain and sadness and grief. There is relief in that...even maybe some happiness.

2 comments:

R said...

I am so happy for you, Catherine, that you are starting to have some better days.

(((HUGS)))

Rachel

Lisa P. said...

This is wonderfully written and I do think that realization of turning the corner is a good thing. I'm glad that you are getting there. We'll be here if you have relapses, too. (((hugs)))