Two Years Ago...

Two years ago...

It seems like a lifetime ago now.  Yet, when I think back, the memories and emotions are as fresh as ever. It hurts to think back. I think I may be to the point in my grief journey where I'm not wanting to look back as much to avoid the hurt. Two years later, and now I'm starting to understand why some people who have buried their children don't like to talk about them. I'm much more selective now with who I openly tell that I had a daughter who died two years ago. I'm not only more selective about who I say it to, but as well as what I say and how much I share. That's not to say I don't like Hailey being mentioned, I do, but it's different when my friends and family talk to me about her than when I'm carefully unraveling this tragic part of my past over and over again in new settings. I no longer offer details and explanations without being prompted. If someone new asks about my family, I do remain honest, but vaguely so. Sometimes in the situation it's appropriate for me to simply share I have two children or that Isaac is my second baby. In those situations, I don't even mention one of my children is alive and the other is dead. (I just cringed as I wrote that... I hate how that sounds... so harsh... but it's the truth). In other situations, I peel back another layer and do share that I had a daughter who passed away, but I leave it at that. It always creates the "awkward" moment where no one knows what to say or do. I don't offer up any more details unless someone asks, which I don't mind sharing, but only if I know they have an interest. I've shared one too many times probably too many details where I can tell the person I'm speaking too is getting more than they bargained for, or they didn't want to know, or it's too much and they get a glazed over look on their face where they try to act interested but aren't. In the past two years, I learned that sometimes wearing my heart on my sleeve and being an open book means I share way too much and that can be a bad thing, a painful thing. So I've stopped "spewing" out the deepest most personal things about myself, realizing it's okay to keep some things to myself and just between family or close friends... or on my blog....

On a somewhat related side note, when someone hears that a baby or a child died, the first thing they want to know is why/ how... and often times that's the next question asked... which is logical and fine and comes from caring hearts most of the time... but if you ever find yourself in the situation, the "best" question to ask first, is "what was your baby's name?" ... I love getting that question. My heart always smiles when I reply, "Her name was Hailey."

Anyway, in keeping with the "themes" of these posts on the anniversary of her passing or as I sometimes refer to it as her "heavenly birthday," I'll continue sharing about where I am on my grief journey two years later, I have to say that my second year without her has been hard, perhaps as hard as the first in its own respects. Imagine my first year of grief as me in the bottom of a very deep and dark pit. Imagine my second year as climbing out of that very deep and dark pit...  sometimes I can't see where I'm going, but all I know is I have to climb up and climbing sure is hard and tiring and sometimes I slip and fall and start all over.

"She's" less present in my day to day life and less present in my mind. Especially since Isaac, my mind is often occupied with the here and now and what's demanding my attention that's right in front of me, which is fine, but of course, is why Hailey has slid further and further into the back of my mind. But when I say that, know that I still think of her every single day, but it's not the same. And remembering is hard, so sometimes I avoid being still and taking time to remember because I don't want the pain of the inadequacy of my memory. I don't know what I'd do without my pictures and videos of her... perhaps that's why I'm so obsessed with capturing every moment of Isaac's life... If it weren't for those images, I don't know what I'd do. It's difficult to sit here right now and picture Hailey in my mind in a "real" way and not just imagine how she looked in a picture I recently looked at of her. I can no longer remember her sounds or cries. I can no longer remember how it felt to hold her... that one might be the hardest. That memory was one that was so vivid and so comforting to have... because when I miss holding her, I had that memory of her weight and the way it felt which filled the void for me... but now I can't even remember that. In some ways, having Isaac makes remembering Hailey hard... my experiences with him interfere with my memories of her... I try to imagine the weight of her in my arms, I can't get passed how it felt to hold him today... I try to imagine Hailey's eyes, which I do remember purposefully staring into one night trying to study and memorize every little thing about them so I could never forget... and now I've forgotten. I can't imagine her eyes, instead Isaac's eyes come to my mind. Sure I have pictures, but pictures never captured the real Hailey.

But to be honest, if it weren't for having Isaac... I don't know where I'd be in my grief journey with Hailey. In many ways, the mother part of me that died when Hailey died, which was a huge, traumatic, painful loss, has been redeemed through being Isaac's mommy. Those dreams of being a mother and raising and loving a child that died with Hailey were reborn and fulfilled with Isaac. So in a lot of ways, with Isaac's life came a lot of healing for me. Having him to love and talk about makes being around other women who are moms and have children, something that was very difficult after Hailey and before Isaac. But of course, Isaac doesn't replace Hailey in anyway. The void in our lives from losing Hailey will always be huge and nothing, but God, will ever fill that.

And to be honest, sometimes having Isaac makes the grief harder... or maybe different. Sometimes I feel I miss her more, if that were possible, because of having Isaac. Watching him change and grow and develop and reach milestones and become his own person is a stark reminder of Hailey being forever 5 weeks old and brings up the pain of not knowing her like I can know Isaac. To see Isaac smile his big, gigantic, gorgeous, gummy smile at me reminds me that I don't know Hailey's smile... she never had one... well, no, that's not entirely true, she had her half-sleepy/ dreamlike smiles, but not the purposeful, social, big ones like Isaac gives. The list goes on, but there's no need to...

With moving to a new state this year, settling into a new community, making new friends, having Isaac, it's almost like I'm living a different life, which makes Hailey's loss and living without her more difficult. Again, like she's getting further and further away, which I associate to mean she's becoming less and less important, although I know that's not true. Oh the lies grief likes to play on you...

Special days this year were especially hard. I always try to remember her in a special way on those days, but it's hard when I want other people's acknowledgement too. Her birthday was especially hard. In venting my difficulties to my friend, she wondered if I was afraid people were forgetting Hailey or if people were forgetting me and the loss I'd endured... And I hadn't realized it until she said that, but both have caused me troubles. Thankfully on Hailey's birthday, my husband, Isaac, and I did something special through Hailey's Hope. On Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day I lit a candle for her and so did several friends. On Christmas I remembered her by buying her and Isaac the book I mentioned in the last post, visiting her grave, giving her a pink rose, giving her a new butterfly and wreath, putting up her pink stocking and buying her Christmas gift which is another butterfly to put in our house. And I noticed some of my family members left tokens of their love by her grave as well. On Mother's Day... well I honestly can't remember back to unless I were to go back to my blog posts... but I know without having to look Mother's Day was hard, I avoided church I think, and felt the Hailey-me-forgotten-pain... The Hailey-me-forgotten-pain is one that was at the forefront of this year and hard to deal with. But I'm thankful for the moments this year where friends and family have made it a point to do something special or say something to me letting me know their love for Hailey, and me.

I think that's about all I want to say in terms of reflecting back on my grief over losing Hailey two years ago. I didn't want to write about what happened two years ago... I've done that plenty of times... and don't really want to go down that memory lane too many times as there's no need to do it too much... It hurts to much.

I'm not sure what I'll do on January 6th (I'm writing this ahead of time) to remember her. I, of course, want to and need to do something, but I'm not sure what... I'm never sure what to do... If I were at home by her, I'd buy her another pink rose, go visit her grave, and read her Wherever You Are, My Love Will Find You one more time... But I can't... So I've got to come up with something else...

Hopefully I'll focus less on what I went through on January 6, 2010 and focus more on imagining Hailey in Heaven, where there is much peace and comfort in those thoughts.