...thinking of her...

(written last night)

On Sunday morning, Father’s Day, I made a quick stop and visited Hailey’s grave. I was eager to finally see her gravestone. In a way I was glad I only had a few minutes to stop by because I know I wasn’t ready emotionally to handle “really” visiting her by myself, without Josh. Before going to see her I went to the store and bought a single, pink rose; a symbolic Father’s Day present from Josh and I to her.

The last time I had been to Hailey’s grave was when I was home for my dad’s memorial service in January. It was freezing cold, the ground was frozen but you could still see the fresh dirt that covered where she was buried, and it was covered with snow. Then, me, Josh, and his dad put a simple white cross in the frozen ground to mark her grave until her gravestone could be ordered and put in it.

Now on this Sunday in June I was by myself. It was partly cloudy and warm. The grass was green, and I could see the newly growing grass over her grave. The cross was gone and her gravestone put in its place. I am so pleased with how it turned out. I never thought I would or could say that a gravestone, something with such a morbid connotation attached to it, could be beautiful, but hers is beautiful.

I admired her gravestone for a moment, so happy that she finally had one, and had a beautiful one at that. And then I gave ‘her’ the pink rose. I know she’s not there, but I said a quick “I love you” and “goodbye,” and I was on my way. I know if I stayed a moment longer I would have lost and I couldn’t let myself get to that place that day.

That is the only time I’ve visited her grave so far since I’ve been home, but I wish I had more time to visit her. It feels strange that a part of me longs to sit in front of her grave and talk to her and spend the whole day there… I suppose that’s why some people have benches as grave markers and such. I never understood the concept until now. I thought maybe it was more for people who couldn’t let go and accept that their loved one had moved on. But I don’t think that’s always the case now that I’m in the position that I’m in.

Tomorrow I think I will try to go and visit her one more time before I leave to head back to Alabama. I hope to stay longer this time. I think I need to let out a good cry while I’m there too… It makes me miss her so much. Some days it still doesn’t seem real that I had a baby and she died. But when I go and visit her grave, there’s no doubting or escaping the reality. She was here, and now she is gone. And the fact remains that no matter how much my grief is healed, my heart will always break over losing her.

On a separate, but somewhat related note, the other day I finally had someone say one of those things you should never say to someone who has lost a baby. I won’t get into the details of the circumstance, but I will say she was a stranger, and what she said came from good intentions, not insensitivity.

I told her briefly about Hailey. She asked me if we were thinking of having any more kids. I told her that someday when we are ready we would like to continue our family and have another baby. She responded by saying something like, “Well that’s good. I’m sure that will help” (referring to my grief). Such an innocent comment, not meant to offend or anything, and some people reading this may not see her error, but I wanted to tell her this:

No having another baby will not help. Maybe it will help the part of me that was a mother that died because I can mother again. But really having another baby will not help the fact that we lost our first baby. Babies are not interchangeable or replaceable. Having another baby will not bring my Hailey back. Even if we have another baby, Hailey is still dead. Nothing will ever “help” that fact and my grief over losing her.

Actually from what I’ve read and heard and can imagine, many couples who have lost a child find that having another child brings about a second round of grieving so to speak. Another child is a blessing of course and brings countless and precious joys with it, but for the parents who have already buried one baby, having another also brings with pain related to losing the first child and related to the fears of losing the new child.

So many people just don’t understand and really can’t understand unless they’ve walked in my shoes. I feel it so often… that people just don’t understand… and that my life story which includes losing my daughter becomes uncomfortable and even awkward with so many people… Like that poem I posted awhile back says, these shoes I wear can be uncomfortable and don’t feel right and I don’t wish this pair of shoes on anyone else. And for those reasons, a part of me was relieved that at my friend’s wedding no one I met asked me if I had any children. I have really come to dread that question. But I hate that I dread it and a part of me hates that I was relieved…

And lastly, there was tonight when I was able to visit my nephew who is just over a year and a half old. I loved spending time with him, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit it was hard to be there. Watching him, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him with Hailey or imagining what Hailey would be like at his age and knowing I will never know. My nephew would laugh and smile, and all I could do was wonder what Hailey’s laugh and smile would have been like… or he would swing in his swing or play with his toys, and all I could do was think of how I will never see Hailey do those things and so much more. I love my nephew to pieces and hate living so far away from him and the rest of my family, but honestly, being around him can be really hard … and that’s just something else I hate that is true. I wish it wasn’t hard, and I did my best to pretend that it wasn’t, but it was…

So sorry if this post was a bit of rambling again… this is just another honest glimpse into my life without my baby who I miss terribly…