Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Stop trying to fix me...you can't

In my new life as a cyber stalker, I have been lurking all over dead baby land, reading, "listening", comparing notes, laughing, crying and generally just sitting in utter amazement as to the sheer number of us who are walking around in our new "shoes". Doesn't it just shock the hell out of you how many of us are here???? And I think to myself for every one of us who are blogging there has to be at least two or three who aren't. At least. And then I go back to the awful statistics, you know them,... after 12 weeks gestation 90-95% survival, after 20 weeks 97% survival, after 26 weeks 98%, after 30 weeks 99% etc. etc. and yet here we all are, the 1, 2 or 3% living on the wrong side of the numbers. It's like my husband said, makes you want to run out and buy a lottery ticket...except that we've all learned it SUCKS to be on the wrong side of the numbers and why add insult to injury? Does that make sense?

Anyway, back to my original post. We all live here in cyber land and it's like home. It feels like the "shoe fits", pardon the pun in re my earlier blog. I mean, the other dead baby moms just get it. When I read a post from another mom's blog and then read the comments, it's so obvious who is a dead baby mom and who is not. That is not to say that the "shoeless" don't matter or don't have important things to say but the difference is glaring. I am struck by how almost without exception a dead baby mom will comment with a similar experience, feeling, or just a "I know, I'm here". While the innocents will respond with a whole bunch of suggestions on how to deal with whatever it is that was blogged about, how to handle that particular issue, a whole book on "How to...." in fact. Even tho they have never "HAD TO".

So it occurs to me, that maybe the reason we all (mostly) blog anonymously and the reason we all find so much strength and comfort here and the reason we can't or don't talk like this IRL is that (1) we can be utterly and at times offensively honest, (2) we know we are talking to someone who just knows, (3) we aren't looking for answers necessarily, just ears and (4) we don't want anyone to "Fix Us", this is us. Leave it. Alone.

Just to be clear, I am not trashing anyone, especially not anyone who reached out and said, "I am here, tell me what I can do?". I am just saying to everyone else, "Stop trying to fix me, you can't."

SOMEBODY

Somebody said
it was all for the best,
that something was probably wrong.
Somebody said,
it was meant to be.
Different verse,
same miserable song.
Somebody said,
"You can have another!"
As if that would make it alright.
Somebody said,
"It was not a real child."
Somebody's not very bright.
Somebody thinks it is helpful
To say when grieving should end.
Somebody shows their true colors.
Somebody isn't a friend.
But somebody said, "I'm sorry."
And sat quietly by my side.
And somebody shared my sorrow
And held my hand when I cried.
And somebody always listened
And called my lost baby by name.
And somebody understood
That I'd never be the same.

*Thanks Olive Lucy:)





6 comments:

Coggy said...

Somebody indeed.
The lack of understanding by most people in real life is glaring. But at the same time I guess it's understandable, I mean how can you imagine what it's like to lose your baby? Before Jacob, I don't know if I would have been able to.
I do wish people would realise that they don't have to say anything, like you say that they can't fix it. They just need to say I'm sorry and be there. Something that seems very hard for most to do. In my life the inability of people to be able to do this has resulted in them no longer contacting us. They believe they have to say something, to be insightful. They don't realise that they could just phone up and talk about the weather. The point is they called.

Rosalind said...

Here!! here!!.. It sucks being on the wrong side of the numbers.. Why me??

C. said...

Another great poem. YES. YES. YES, on the not getting fixed part. I don’t want to be fixed. I just want the opportunity to unleash all this pent up grief and anger and disappointment and…and…and, resulting from the death of my son.

I am one of those women who have invited friends to read along. It was a no-brainer at the beginning, when I wanted to tell the world about Callum, when I wanted everyone to know the impact he had had on my life, when I wanted to make him real. As the weeks have passed, and comments have been made, I question whether I made the right decision. There is some element of screening what I say, that I can't be totally and brutally honest because I don't want to offend. It puts me in a weird position. Even my post from yesterday...I was afraid that it might rub my pre-stillbirth friends the wrong way. I posted it anyway.

I really think that many of them will stop reading my blog eventually. That this train wreck they are following very closely now will disinterest them at some point and they will go away. Or maybe my constant pushing them away will. In the end, I don’t want to over-analyze the decision I made to include them, as it was made to honour the memory of my son. I think that, in very large part to what I have written on my blog, he will resonate in their minds and hearts for much longer than if I had not invited them to read along.

missing_one said...

Great post. I have noticed that too. It's hard sometimes not to get mad at those people. Sometimes I read the other comments and want to comment on the comments, but I don't.

The poem made me cry. thanks for reposting.

Michelle said...

What a great post, you're totally right - there's no easy cure. losing a baby or child is a life-altering experience that will never ever go away.

It's wonderful that you have so much support!

Olive Lucy said...

just checking in on you.. sending you lots of peaceful vibes. and for the record i did not write somebody it was an anonomous that i just post.. mybe i should go back and read my post to make sure... peace light & love C