My dearest Dayani,
You would have been exactly eight weeks old today - Sunday 1/11. This would've been the day that we let people come over to visit you at home since you would've gotten your first set of immunization already (though I am not sure if for preemie this timeline would be adjusted based on the GA at birth).
Today is also exactly seven weeks since you left this earth. I cannot sufficiently describe how I went through the days since or what I did to survive them. What I remember the most are the feelings. Everything was so raw and on the surface. I felt such complex emotions; the helplessness that stemmed from the trauma of losing you, the gratefulness for your birth, all the blessings around you, and the people and the knowledge that you've brought into our lives, the fear- the fear of losing Ishan and your Appa, the fear that I am now going to suffer for the rest of my life, the fear that God is out to get me, the fear of the future because now I've seen many sufferings (not just my own but also others who are walking on this same path), and Anger. Let's not forget about Anger... I can tell you a hundred different things and people that angered me but bottom line I was/am angry that you are not here. Period.
Physically I felt some deterioration. To name a few, I had heart palpitations, cold and coughing that do not seem to go away, increased blood pressure, and extra sensitive ears- every sound seemed too loud! I began to wonder if my time on this earth was up too...
But now seven weeks in I don't feel so raw anymore. I am starting to get bits of clarity and want for some healing. This week started out with a couple routine appointments with my OB/GYN and dentist. I spend my days at home reading books that help me navigate this loss, cooking, watching TV, write in this blog, picking up Ishan from daycare, trying to function amid my grief. But on Thursday, Friday and Saturday my emotions went up a notch and it was overwhelming! I think the shock that protected my brain, which allowed me to function since you were gone, is starting to wear off. Like a veil, it is being slowly lifted.
I couldn't stop my heart from whispering your name, and the million shattered pieces of my heart broke a little each time.
I am starting to realize that you are not coming back. That you are really not here. That I cannot see you or touch you no matter how hard I try... My heart didn't want to absorb this reality and was screaming in fierce rage as the realization starting to hit my consciousness, like a raindrop hitting the earth. I was fighting it... I couldn't accept it.
But today I am beginning to realize that nothing is going to change my reality. No amount of crying is going to bring you back to me. It hurts me to my core inner being to admit this, and even now I can feel my soul recoiled at the thought... But if I am to heal I have to accept this reality so we can move forward with this life. It certainly doesn't mean I will forget you. (How can I? Every parent thinks about their child all the time. Death doesn't change that). It just means that we, as a family, get to live our lives that include you and the sadness from losing you but not being paralyzed by it. Your loss does not define us. Your life will be celebrated and purposeful. Your Appa and I will make sure that...
Every night I ask that God keeps you happy wherever you are and that you are not crying for anything or anyone of us. Heaven must be nice, otherwise you'd have been back here in my arms... That's how it works, doesn't it?
Whenever you get a chance, I would appreciate if you could send me a sign that lets me know you are ok. Even though Appa had reminded me about the three Chinese lanterns we saw in the sky when we did the first balloon release for you, I'd really like something more concrete and unmistakably yours from time to time. Can you do that?
With all my love, always. Hugs and kisses,
Your mom
You would have been exactly eight weeks old today - Sunday 1/11. This would've been the day that we let people come over to visit you at home since you would've gotten your first set of immunization already (though I am not sure if for preemie this timeline would be adjusted based on the GA at birth).
Today is also exactly seven weeks since you left this earth. I cannot sufficiently describe how I went through the days since or what I did to survive them. What I remember the most are the feelings. Everything was so raw and on the surface. I felt such complex emotions; the helplessness that stemmed from the trauma of losing you, the gratefulness for your birth, all the blessings around you, and the people and the knowledge that you've brought into our lives, the fear- the fear of losing Ishan and your Appa, the fear that I am now going to suffer for the rest of my life, the fear that God is out to get me, the fear of the future because now I've seen many sufferings (not just my own but also others who are walking on this same path), and Anger. Let's not forget about Anger... I can tell you a hundred different things and people that angered me but bottom line I was/am angry that you are not here. Period.
Physically I felt some deterioration. To name a few, I had heart palpitations, cold and coughing that do not seem to go away, increased blood pressure, and extra sensitive ears- every sound seemed too loud! I began to wonder if my time on this earth was up too...
But now seven weeks in I don't feel so raw anymore. I am starting to get bits of clarity and want for some healing. This week started out with a couple routine appointments with my OB/GYN and dentist. I spend my days at home reading books that help me navigate this loss, cooking, watching TV, write in this blog, picking up Ishan from daycare, trying to function amid my grief. But on Thursday, Friday and Saturday my emotions went up a notch and it was overwhelming! I think the shock that protected my brain, which allowed me to function since you were gone, is starting to wear off. Like a veil, it is being slowly lifted.
I couldn't stop my heart from whispering your name, and the million shattered pieces of my heart broke a little each time.
I am starting to realize that you are not coming back. That you are really not here. That I cannot see you or touch you no matter how hard I try... My heart didn't want to absorb this reality and was screaming in fierce rage as the realization starting to hit my consciousness, like a raindrop hitting the earth. I was fighting it... I couldn't accept it.
But today I am beginning to realize that nothing is going to change my reality. No amount of crying is going to bring you back to me. It hurts me to my core inner being to admit this, and even now I can feel my soul recoiled at the thought... But if I am to heal I have to accept this reality so we can move forward with this life. It certainly doesn't mean I will forget you. (How can I? Every parent thinks about their child all the time. Death doesn't change that). It just means that we, as a family, get to live our lives that include you and the sadness from losing you but not being paralyzed by it. Your loss does not define us. Your life will be celebrated and purposeful. Your Appa and I will make sure that...
Every night I ask that God keeps you happy wherever you are and that you are not crying for anything or anyone of us. Heaven must be nice, otherwise you'd have been back here in my arms... That's how it works, doesn't it?
Whenever you get a chance, I would appreciate if you could send me a sign that lets me know you are ok. Even though Appa had reminded me about the three Chinese lanterns we saw in the sky when we did the first balloon release for you, I'd really like something more concrete and unmistakably yours from time to time. Can you do that?
With all my love, always. Hugs and kisses,
Your mom
No comments:
Post a Comment