Sometimes it’s hard to remain positive. Sometimes I struggle with seeing the light in this darkness. Looking back at myself six months ago, I wonder if I was stronger then than I am now. Somehow in those early days, I was able to cling more fiercely to the idea that I had to go on living my life well for Lucy’s sake. I feel ashamed of myself as of late, because I frequently have to remind myself to look for Lucy’s light in all good things, to keep working hard to make that little baby proud of me. Often, I feel anything but strong and capable.

In recent months, the old demons I had conquered years ago have come back to the surface. The despicable and malevolent self talk, negative body image, lack of faith in my abilities, and absence of self love have all crawled back into my brain. I am constantly beating myself up. Last month was by far the worst, and though I’m trying to consciously eliminate all of those self-hating behaviors, it’s a daily struggle. How can I make Lucy proud of me with all of these hurtful things I say to myself? In so many ways, I am disappointed in myself, yet, at the same time, perhaps it’s also a reason to be proud of myself too. In spite of the terrible things I say to and about myself, in spite of wanting to quit on so many levels, I do what I need to do every single day to keep my life together. The battles I fight right now are ones that no one aside from Chris can see. Without him to talk me off the ledge of self hatred, I don’t know how I’d still be standing here. Every day is hard, but I’m getting through them. I am trying to love myself again.

One of my biggest obstacles, aside from constantly being mean to myself, is my job. It takes everything I have in me sometimes to muster up smiles and good cheer for my students. It is absolutely exhausting, and because of this, at the end of the work day and on the weekends, I turn into a puddle of antisocial goo. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to have to fake anything (especially my mood), and I crave solitude. I’m not allowed to grieve my daughter or act sad at work, so I always feel like I’m ready to emotionally combust by the time I get home. I’ve become notoriously bad at returning phone calls. It’s harder than hell to have to keep it all together while interacting with 100+ people throughout the day (I love my students, but dealing with moody teenagers is hard sometimes). What makes it tougher is that it feels like it’s been forgotten that I’m a grieving mother, aside from maybe three colleagues. I don’t expect to be catered to or treated better than usual because of our loss, but things impact me a lot more than they used to because of my vulnerability. Because I act like everything is perfectly okay, it’s easy for my students to dismiss everything that happened. They have teenage lives full of everything they’re dealing with, they shouldn’t worry about their sad teacher whose baby passed away. It’s hard to fake smiles and happiness when they tell me about brand new siblings or nieces and nephews, when all it does is remind me of what I don’t have. It’s tough to brush it off when a student gets rude with me because I’ve asked them three times to stop talking while I’m talking, or they walk past without even answering a hello from me. I never used to take these little things personally, but that sort of thing, coupled with society’s negative view of teachers, definitely impacts my self-esteem in this vulnerability. It’s a hard job to begin with, but morale in our building is pretty low, so I often feel like I’m at the bottom of the well when I’m there. No matter what I’m feeling, I still have to play nicey-nicey all day long, and it’s awful. I do my very best when I’m there, but it’s a hard and unpleasant job in my current state of being. I have realized that I do not want to retire from a life-long career in teaching. Losing Lucy has made things clearer to me, especially the things that hinder my happiness. What will I do instead? I have no idea. In the meantime, I’ll tough it out, but it isn’t easy.

We splurged and bought a treadmill and just started using it on Sunday. It will be a way to eliminate excuses for not getting exercise, no matter the weather. Of course, I went ahead and caught the plague of a cold that’s going around our school, so now I’m sort of waiting to feel better to jump back on. I’m hoping it helps to improve my body image and make me feel better… I have not engaged in regular exercise (aside from the long dog walks back in the fall) for quite some time, and I’m definitely feeling the negative impact it’s had. The extra weight I’m holding on to from the pregnancy is a constant reminder of how changed I am. It’s only about 15 pounds or so, but I’ve never been in such bad shape before, especially with cardio. Depression and grief have made it nearly impossible for me to hang on to any motivation. It’s so hard for me to look at my body lately… there are so many reminders of pregnancy. The cruelest part of all is knowing that my body went through that to grow a perfect baby who never got to come home with me. I know that all mothers go through an adjustment period with their postpartum bodies, but having no baby to hold makes it oh so much more difficult. I’m clinging to the hope that I will be pregnant again, but that won’t happen if I continue to neglect myself.

I’ve been working on making time to cope when I can. Because work is so draining, it’s hard, but I’m doing my best. My journal has been an almost daily ritual, along with sitting, even if for just a couple of minutes, in the nursery to focus my thoughts on Lucy. The elephant my mom got for Lucy on the day she was born has also become part of my coping. Sometimes I feel a little bit like a crazy person doing it, but I often hold Nelly (yes, I have named her elephant Nelly) during my moments of reflection. Something about the sensory element of her fur is soothing. There have been a few nights, when I miss Lucy too much, that I’ve snuck Nelly to bed with me. Somehow, it makes me feel closer to Lucy. Childish? Maybe, but sometimes I just need to feel comfort. Nelly should be Lucy’s cuddle toy, not mine. I miss her terribly, but Nelly eases that every now and again. In life after loss, it’s about staying afloat, and if Nelly the elephant helps me do that, I am not ashamed.

The new normal is hard, and I can’t say that even now, almost seven months later, that I’ve fully adjusted to it. I’m trying. There are many days that I don’t want to try, but then I remind myself that I have to for Lucy, and I work harder. All I can do is keep trying.

Nelly the Elephant

Trying to get back on track on the treadmill…