Take the time to NOT be fine is a phrase I heard on an episode of one or another show I watched. I literally replayed that scene about five(5) times before the actuality of the phrase sunk in. Take the time to not be fine…
To be honest, I know this phrase is not revolutionary in the least and over the past months I have heard a version with the same idea more than once, but something in the compilation of this phrase resonated with what I was feeling and needed to hear.
I am an endless optimist and if I am truly honest, grieving as an optimist is a whole new experience. Something in me wants to believe that one day I will wake up and see the world smile at me again. Discovering over and over again that that smile has to come from inside of me is petrifying and I am afraid that I will never again be able to do that spontaneously.
In moments like that I have to gather all my strength to not crawl back under the covers and stay there and I have to remind myself that it’s okay to take the time to not be fine… and soon the optimists starts creeping back and I find myself hoping again.
Finding my hope is a decision I make every day and reading articles and blog posts of other stillmothers dealing with the same kind of grief has really helped me in this lonely journey. Going through all the emotions related to grief can so often leave a person bitter and angry and to be honest some days I nurture this anger and bitterness a little – taking the time to not be fine
So goes the days of grieving and one day I found myself spending quite a while reading other stillmothers’ posts. I found this post of a stillmother eight (8) years after the stillbirth of her son, feeling just as bitter and angry as I was feeling – and do not get me wrong, her journey is just that, her journey alone – but I realised that eight (8) years from now I really do not want to be as bitter and angry as I am at this point in my grieving.
The optimist burst through me at that moment and I realised I have a need, an urge, to get to the point where bitterness and anger start drifting away and in its place love and celebration remains. I want to celebrate my daughter and the hope she brought and the love she evoked… in the end that is the memory I want to cherish, the memory I am learning to hold on to.