So This Is Grief

I’m sorry for your loss.

Until recently, I thought those words felt so insincere. Now that I have heard them over and over again I realize that they are more than they seem. Because those that love you, really mean it. Because what else is there to say? Because with a loss so deep, sometimes there are truly no other words.

There is, however, a different five word phrase that has come to mean more to me than I ever could have known: “We will never forget Andreas.” I am terrified that he will disappear. His time on Earth was so short, it’s starting to feel like he was never here. If his own mother feels that way, how quickly might he disappear in others’ memories. But he is loved fiercely. He is a spirit son of God, just as real as you or me or the person that you love most in this life.

Am I a mother? Of course I am. But I hardly feel like a parent. I never heard him cry. Never changed a diaper. Never so much as held him until we knew he was leaving us. In fact, the only parenting decision we got to make for Andreas was whether to attempt resuscitation. And when it came down to it I couldn’t even make the decision, leaving Mario to do it on his own.

Every day I sit in his unfinished nursery to remind myself that he is real. I rock alone where I thought I would rock my sweet boy. I picture myself feeding him, changing his diaper, singing him to sleep, and laying him in his crib. I picture my heart as whole. And those moments are the only time that I feel okay, even for an instant.

There is so much more that we are grieving than I can even put into words. It took us over a year to finally get pregnant with Andreas. He is our miracle. Now we have to wait two more years, they say. What an awfully long time for this crib to sit empty. I don’t know that my mama heart will survive.

Will I ever be okay? Realistically, I know the answer is yes. Right now it feels impossible- like the notion is laughable. Sometimes I wonder if I will wake up from this dream. In the morning I reach for my belly, and it’s a painful reminder that this is real. My energy level is so low that a short trip to the store immobilizes me for the rest of the day and sometimes for the next day too. I grind my teeth so hard that the resulting headache never subsides. The things that used to bring me joy no longer do.

So this is grief. What a dark being you are. You are not my friend. And yet, I can’t let go of you. I fear losing you means losing Andreas more than I already have. So maybe we can try to coexist in harmony. What do you say, worth a shot? No? Okay thanks anyway.