The Weeks After Loss

The weeks after giving birth to our sleeping daughter and leaving the hospital without her are a blur.  Family was afraid to leave me alone and I was afraid to break down and cry in front of them.  I felt completely numb.  I felt like I was being forced to go through the motions of the day when all I wanted to do was look myself away in bed and cry.  I felt like a captive in my own house and in my own body!  It was ridiculously exhausting to put on a false face and go through each day.

The first thing I remember doing is going online to find the perfect urn to place our daughter's ashes in.  I remember being obsessed with finding something that I deemed good enough for her.  It seemed, after hours of searching, that I would never find anything that was perfect.  I mean, who should even have to be looking for an urn for their baby.  It just seemed so wrong.  Eventually, I was able to find one that I loved, even though it was for a "small child" and would be to big.  I knew it would be perfect because she would not have to be in there alone.  We would be able to put her lamb in with her, along with roses, and notes from my Husband, Son and I.

I also managed to get out of the house one day to go and get things to make Olivia a scrapbook and a shadowbox.  My Mother In Law went with me, and though I appreciated the company and I love her dearly, she kept trying to purchase everything that I picked out.  I just didn't have much fight left in me at this point, and thought I stated that I wanted to be able to purchase these things for my daughter, but I am not sure I said it loud enough for her to hear or even that I said it out loud.  I did find comfort in going out and shopping for my daughter,even if it was for a "memorial" object type object.  In fact, I found that the more I did for her, in her name, or in her memory, or just for me for her, the easier it was for me to get through my day, so I busied myself in an almost obsessive way with doing just that.

The Shadow Box contains the blanket we swaddled Olivia in, her hospital bracelet, 

a duplicate of the gown she wore, the hat she wore, and the stuffed animal we bought for her.

March 16th was the day that we were able to pick our daughter's ashes up.  It was a bittersweet day for me because I so wanted my daughter with me, to hold whenever I wanted, but I so wished that I wouldn't have to pick her up in the form of ashes and hold her in a little box.  The funeral director was kind enough to take her to my Mother In Laws so that we did not have to go to the funeral home to get her.  He was also kind enough to not seal her ashes so that we could move her, and more importantly, see her, when we (more me) when we wanted.  I had an odd sense of peace once her ashes were in my arms.  It was like that huge piece of me that had been missing had returned, though definitely broken.  That was the first night that, after I got all of my crying out, I slept the night without having nightmares.

Finally, after a little over a week, all of our family left and my Husband went to work.  I was alone (with our son).  I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to keep myself together enough to be able to care of him and give him the love and attention he deserved, but I managed.  Whenever he napped, I would sit and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry.  It was such a relief to be alone and be able to cry and let all of my feelings out.  I had felt so trapped with family around, like they expected me to be strong, and like they would never leave if I didn't seem "ok."

I still cried myself asleep every night and had to force myself from bed every morning, I still broke down when my son napped, or when I saw or heard certain things, but I was managing to get through the day, one day at a time!