The best intentions sometimes aren't

I’ve had my first experience with…well, I’m not sure what to call it.

We all grieve differently. Some are internal, some reach out for help. Some grieve longer, while others are functioning sooner. All of us learn to incorporate our loss into our lives, reborn as the parents of lost babies to cope as best we can with our new world.

Sometimes I equate this with the loss of an appendage…an arm, a leg or sight. We are alive, but not whole and learning to live as such. The internally handicapped, with shards of our hearts and souls ripped and shredded, masquerading as normal human beings with no one being the wiser to our tremendous grief.

I understand my reality. I live it and some days it’s painful to breathe.

I remember leaving the hospital. It was so loud…horns in traffic, birds chirping, people in the parking lot on their cell phones. I was even painfully aware of the wind rustling through the trees. I hated all of it. Didn’t the world know I had just lost my son? How could the world go on when one tiny soul was missing? Why didn’t it just stop for a moment in recognition of our grief and pain? Just for a second to acknowledge a precious life gone and that we survived to experience unbelievable pain?

But, the world doesn’t stop, not for a moment, no matter how much we want it to.

And we cope; we all do, as best we can.

Today is International Baby lost Mother’s Day. I received a flower on Face Book from a fellow baby lost mother for this occasion, and I was touched. Nobody can truly understand a loss like this with no direct experience with it. When baby loss mothers gather together to lend support to each other, its truly a beautiful thing and comforting in a situation with very little to offer in the way of solace.

I have a childhood friend who lost her son in February. She was told at 21 weeks he would not survive – a physical impossibility for him, and having to carry him with that knowledge was devastating for her. Our personalities are not the same, but being loss mothers, I felt comfortable passing this flower to her in recognition of Mother’s Day and her loss.

Her reaction was unexpected and hurtful. Like I said, I understand nobody grieves the same way or at the same timeline. I also understand that grief and pain can come out in unexpected ways. Her e-mail to me demanding I erase it from her page was cuttingly direct and personal at the same time.

She said that she didn’t feel the need to “advertise” her grief like “some people” (I would assume that would be me), and because of that “some people” (I would assume me again) treated hers as less real. She also said I wasn’t respecting her process, as I grieved differently than she is.

She said more, but I’m only touching on this part for now.

This is a slap in the face to me in a huge way. Weeks after we lost our son she got her diagnosis and I was the first call she made. We grieved together at that time, talked from four in the morning until five thirty. We talked every couple of days for weeks after…usually about her grief and her situation, which didn’t bother me as it took my mind off of my own.

She had hinted before that what she was going through was worse than what I went through – saying things like “you just wouldn’t understand” (oh, really). I let this go. Knowing her nature and mine, it was best not to touch on it. I told myself I was her grief talking – sometimes, we truly feel like no one else on earth really could understand, even those who have been through it. I don’t think either one of us came out on top, and it’s just stupid to compare the two situations. There are no winners.

Now, however, I’m angry and hurt and all of the conversations we had these last months are coming to mind. After her son passed, she didn’t want to talk about it. At all. I respected that. So, we talked about the future – her plans to try again immediately and mine to wait. How long to wait. What we felt was best for each of us – normal stuff.

Now I receive a scathing e-mail full of talking-downs intended to put me in my place. I’ve moved from hurt to pissed in the span of one morning. I’ve wondered if I was out of line, if she was, if we both were.

My conclusion: a well-meant gesture was taken and blown out of proportion, resulting in harsh words that can’t be taken back. Was it her grief talking? Possibly. Can it be forgiven? I don’t know. By explaining so bluntly her opinion of my grieving process that I inadvertently imposed on her, I feel she went too far.

I’m still grieving, too.

And this member of the “some people” club is choosing to “advertise” their hurt and frustration on their blog ;-)

At this point, I’m disappointed, hurt and feel like I’ve lost a friend when, ironically, through my loss I’ve found tremendous support through online friends and groups.

I suppose there are people out there who do not need those things. I just hadn’t encountered one until today.