It seems strange to say this, but things are starting to go back to normal.
For starters – I had my six-week postpartum visit at the midwives’ offices, and the midwife I saw said that my body is more or less back to normal.
My figure is also sort of returning to normal. Certainly there are lumpy and floppy places that didn’t exist before, but I’m definitely seeing movement in the right direction.
My biorhythms are getting back to normal. I’m sleeping at night. I’m awake during the day. I get hungry at the appropriate times.
For a while, it was hard to feel like things were ever going to go back to normal. There were too many people asking how I was doing, I was too disoriented, I had too many hopes and dreams with nowhere to land. It was nice to have so much support, but it was hard to feel normal with so much attention focused on me.
Now, there are no more visitors, no more cards and letters, fewer phone calls, text messages, emails, and Facebook posts. More and more, the people contacting me frequently are the people who have always contacted me frequently.
It feels a little lonely, sometimes – but only in contrast with how things have been the last few weeks. The alone time is replenishing. And the normalcy is refreshing.
So now – my activities are more in the normal range, also. I keep the house running. I keep my little projects and commitments running. I keep me running.
But not running too hard because – oh, yeah … I just had a baby.
Sometimes I forget that part. I’m so focused on the emotional trauma that I forget that my body has experienced a huge physical change as well.
It’s taken a while for me to be okay with any sense of “normal,” too. I thought that if I felt normal, it meant I was dishonoring Lauren or forgetting her or something.
But feeling normal doesn’t mean going back to how we were. That’s impossible. We can never go back. Normal just means accepting what has happened and integrating that experience into our daily lives.
For example, when we first came home from the hospital, I was so disoriented that I couldn’t understand that Lauren was gone. I kept thinking that I was pregnant, or that I’d never been pregnant, or that somehow she would come back to us. It wasn’t logical, but that’s how I felt.
Gradually, that feeling of disbelief became more a feeling of sadness or anger, this thought that she’s supposed to be with us now, and that it just isn’t right that she’s not.
Yesterday, I had this feeling that everything was as it should be. It was fleeting, but strong. If I had to try to put it into words, the thought would be, Well, of course Lauren’s gone. She was never meant to be with us for more than that time. For whatever reason, that’s how it is.
It’s an ongoing process, and I’m sure that there will be many more ups and downs, but that fleeting thought proves to me that we are moving towards rediscovering normal.
Whatever that means.




6 comments
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November 16, 2011 at 6:33 pm
Renel
I just wanted you to know that I am no where near feeling normal…but those strange instances where we wonder, was I ever pregnant? Did I imagine it all? Or should I have known all along I would never be bringing her home? Those are such strange thoughts and feelings. They don’t make sense…but neither does having our babies die.
November 16, 2011 at 6:41 pm
Tara Finney
Was there ever really a normal to begin with? I love you perspective on it. I get angry. My body forgetting Aidan is supposed to still be there. People forgetting or avoiding Aidan. The world continuing to spin even though I’ve been knocked off my axis. Your words made me smile and really ponder my point of view. Thank you for that.
November 17, 2011 at 1:37 am
Laura
Great reflections. I think infant loss is quite a lonely experience because people do not know what to say or do and often people think if they ask you how you are doing or talk about Lauren that they will make it worse on you because you will remember. What they don’t realise is that you will never forget. It does get easier, but it never goes back to how it was. The first year is always the hardest – going through Christmas and other holidays without her and then her birthday. Then I think people find that that deep, deep sorrow and pain is somehow lifted piece by piece and float away. Just know that there is no “normal”. Whatever you feel and do is necessary for you to grieve, cope and pay honor to your experience and Lauren’s brief life. Sending you warm, loving hugs from here. x
November 17, 2011 at 7:05 am
Angie
I agree that there is no normal and with us, it was almost exactly the time that I thought I was doing ok and getting a handle on everything that I’d spiral down again. This journey is a roller coaster and I think sometimes that “feeling okay” especially early on is sometimes just self protective numbness to give yourself a break.That being said, even if it may feel impossible now, you will get to a place where you smile and even laugh again (and eventually a place where you don’t feel guilty about smiling and laughing.)
xoxo
Thinking of you.
November 18, 2011 at 6:30 pm
Anna
I completely understand what you mean. I never really understood the denial part of grieving til I experienced it myself. But when I first came home from the hospital, I kept being shocked by the amount of times I had to remind myself that my baby was gone. But as you move on to acceptance, you do start to feel more normal-ish… I’m hoping one day there will just be a normal.
December 21, 2011 at 10:47 am
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