We Are More Okay Than You Might Think

I think that when people imagine how we might be doing, they picture me curled up in a ball on the floor, crying. I'm not sure what they picture for my husband. And it isn't to say we haven't had these moments, but sometimes I feel guilty for how we are doing. I wouldn't say "for how well we are doing" because that may be a stretch. But we are probably doing better than you might think.

As you might know, everyone's path through grief is different. It just so happens that our path with Hailey gave us time to grieve along the way. I think it is different for people who lose a child suddenly, or if they've had more time with their child before they are ripped away.

For those who lose a child suddenly, there is no warning. There is no growing accustomed to the thought. There is no chance to build memories to commemorate the child before they go. As hard as it was to watch Hailey suffer, we had time to come to terms with our path, and to do things by which to remember her...we snipped a lock of her hair, captured her hand prints and foot prints, made a mold of us holding her hand, and filmed plenty of photos and videos. I even took home some of the diaper cream we used in the hospital because I now associate that smell with her more than any other.

Furthermore, when we mourn her, yes - we mourn the almost four sweet months we had with her. But I think what we mourn even more than that is the life we thought we were going to have with our daughter. My husband mourns that he will never get to be a mess on her wedding day. I mourn that I won't have a little mini-me to hang out with while my son goes hunting with his Daddy.

For families who lose an older child, they mourn the many more memories they have with their child in addition to daydreams about what the child's future could have been.

Beyond these two facts, our path with Hailey taught me there are fates worse than death. Some children are born or become so sick that they exist in a state just strong enough to keep alive, but not well enough to move out of bed or really embrace life in any significant way. What a hard path to walk.

So even though our hearts are broken and this IS a very hard chapter of life, I know it could be even harder...whether for Hailey, for us, or both. When we lose a child, it is easy to be mad at God because we imagine all our child's life could have been...but that is our optimistic nature talking. For all we know, our child's life could have been worse than anything we could have imagined and God spared them. So without knowing either way, I just try to be faithful and trust in Him.

Some days I wake up and wonder if the past year even happened. It was in January 2016 that I found out I was pregnant. Now it is February 2017 and we are still only a family of three. Did I really have a daughter? Did we really pass all that time in the hospital and experience all that terror, just to feel like we are right back where we started at this time last year? In some ways, it feels like a blur and I question reality.

And even though I will tell you we are doing better than you might think, and that I'm not curled up on the floor crying, I do still cry plenty. I was never really a crier before losing Hailey, and certainly NEVER cried publicly. But I've made peace with the fact that I cry at random these days and often in public. Some days I'm great and talk about Hailey just fine. The other day, when the woman cutting my son's hair asked me if I had any other children, I had to fight back tears. I wasn't sure what to say...but that is another blog post in and of itself. Yesterday, when my neighbor and friend told me she wanted to put in a bench and plaque in our neighborhood in Hailey's memory, I just about started crying. Every time I write one of these blog posts --- even if it is a happy one --- I cry.

But yes, I can get out of bed and function. I appreciate my son and husband and dog and really everything more than I ever have before. I am hopeful for the future. I still want to try to have more children, even with the risk of this genetic syndrome hanging over our heads. On most days, I can talk about Hailey without crying or feeling too much sadness. Grief is weird, and maybe next month will be way worse. Who knows? But for now, I think we are doing okay, given the circumstances. We have the love and support of some pretty amazing people in our lives and really, that is all we could ever ask for. With love.