Normal

Every day my greatest wish is that I could just go back to normal or even that I could grieve "normally." I've had so many people, even people that have gone through the loss of a baby, tell me that it seems I'm having a much harder time. Wow, what a loser I am. I've read that there's certain circumstances that make it harder for a woman to get through the loss of her baby...being surrounded by a lot of people having babies at the same time (check), a baby that was especially planned and hoped for (check), getting older and feeling like the baby lost was perhaps the last chance at having another one (check), and being further along in the gestation of the baby-having felt the baby move or a delivery instead of a D & C (check). So, yes, I'm having a hard time. I'm not "normal", but then again, maybe I am. Today I ran across this, and it made me feel much less alone, much more "normal" in my grief.

This was shared by another Angel Mommy, author is unknown.

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life. Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.

Normal is staring at every pregnant woman wondering how far along she is, then thinking how far along I should be and imagining I am still pregnant as I should be. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart. Normal is no matter how many or by what means we have children, there will always be one missing.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.

Normal is making sure that others remember my baby. Normal is I will celebrate my child’s birth and mourn the death all on the same day.

Normal is after delivery is over, everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having your child die is unnatural.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone because you are stricken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is some days being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food.

Normal is wondering this time what to say when the inevitable question of if you have any children is asked because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have no children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.

Normal is avoiding friends who have been friends for years because the site of them and their children tears my heart in two and reminds me again of what I lost.

Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours.

Normal is finding excuses not to go to baby showers and birthday parties because you don't want your loss and sadness to overshadow anyone’s special day.

Normal is having to bite your tongue when people say stupid things because you know they mean no harm, they are just ignorant.

Normal is being avoided by people who know because they are uncomfortable talking about it. Normal is I NEED to talk about it. Normal is everyday finding the strength to get out of bed and go on living even though there are days you feel like you can't. Normal is when you do get out of bed you realize that today is one day closer to seeing my baby again. Normal is knowing that 80% of relationships will not survive the loss of a child and wondering if you will beat the odds.

Normal is blaming yourself and wondering if others blame you too.

Normal is knowing that I will never be able to enjoy a pregnancy because it will be plagued with fear and remembrance of how this one ended.

Normal is I wouldn't give back my weeks I shared with my child because sometimes love is so great that saying hello and goodbye in the same moment is worth it.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.

And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".