I was driving yesterday and the song “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry began playing on the radio, instantly sparking an emotional response. While the entire song and meaning behind it doesn’t necessarily apply to infant loss, it still highlights the heartbreak of loss too soon, and it’s both beautiful and horrifying. The line, “the sharp knife of a short life” really triggered the tears. Lucy’s death is so painful, so unfair, so wrong. It cuts deep… that knife is really sharp, and clearly her life was absolutely too short, there’s no question about that. One day earthside was all she had, all we had with her. I will wonder for the rest of my life WHY.
Yesterday she would have been two months old. Today, she died two months ago. The 10th and the 11th of each month are going to continue to be hard days to swallow. I have this repetitive loop of thoughts circulating in my mind: Nine weeks ago today we lost her. Two months ago today we lost her. She should be two months and one day old. It’s only been two months. It’s already been two months. This isn’t getting easier. And on and on and on, repeat, repeat, repeat. I keep replaying that day and night in my head. Add in songs stuck in my brain with horror film tinged soundbytes at the fringes, and there you have my mind like 98% of the time. Pure chaos. That’s what the sharp knife of a short life does- it keeps cutting. I don’t think many people could withstand all of the noise commotion constantly screeching inside my brain. Sometimes, I just wish I could get a break from it, but that would mean I might have to stop thinking about Lucy for a few moments, and I’m just not willing to do that yet. I hope going back to work will provide some reprieve from it though; at some point, my brain needs to function normally again. The never-ending interaction, activity, and fragmented structure of a day in the classroom might be just the thing. More chaos, but a different kind of chaos. I think I need to have a feeling of purpose back again, because now I’m beginning to feel as though I no longer do. The time off work is what I’ve needed, I know this… you have to take care of yourself in order to take care of others, so this is what I’m doing. I wouldn’t be able to take care of my students if I didn’t take the time to take care of me. I’m thankful I’ve been able to do this, to really FEEL the grief and let it ride for a while, because I think it’d be a lot uglier if I didn’t. I’ve had many moments of intense anger, but the anger usually passes and is drowned out by my sadness. I think this is because I’ve allowed myself to surrender to the waves when they come instead of suppressing them; I haven’t allowed them to build up, and so the anger isn’t as intense or explosive. For this I’m so grateful, because I’ve made the promise to live well for Lucy, to let Lucy’s light shine through me, to keep Lucy’s memory alive through kindness… I could not do that for her if everything were shadowed by anger. It’s not easy to do that every day, but I am doing it anyway.
Today, I keep trying to direct my thoughts toward what a gift my little Lucille Rose is to my life, even though I can’t hold her here in my arms. I know I’d do it all over again, because she is worth it. I do long for the innocence and oblivion that Chris and I had prior to losing Lucy… that happiness was so pure, so genuine. I miss that, but oh I miss her so much more. Maybe in some parallel universe, everything went perfectly normal with her birth, and Lucy is with us, growing and thriving… I can’t help but imagine that constantly, what it would have been like. I remember saying to Chris at some point when I was pregnant with Lucy that it was so amazing to honestly have a reality that was better than my dreams; but now, it’s reversed and it breaks my heart. Missing her, and who we might have been as a family, is a full time job. It’s truly a sharp knife…
A photo I snapped the other day as the sun was beginning to set.