Hard work

Grief is hard work.  Most days it is too hard for me to work at it.  There have been many times where I just wish I could buy a handbook on how to grieve and how to act and what to say (I am sure these types of books exist, but I want a quick fix, a word by word description of what grief should be for ME).  The truth is, grief is different for everyone.  And what I have learned is that is okay.  It is just hard not to compare your story with someone else's.  I attended a support group meeting Wednesday night for women who have experienced the loss of a child.  Whether I like it or not, I am now a part of this community of women.  Not one person had the same exact story, but we all are grieving the same loss.  There were people there who lost a child five years ago and were able to offer a perspective on the bigger picture.  There were people there who just lost a baby, a few weeks ago, a few days ago.  And I felt like maybe I was able to offer a bit of support to them, because I am slowly but surely breaking through the fog. 

This morning I woke up back in the fog, and for a brief second, I thought that what has happened to us was a dream.  When I was fully awake, I was jolted back to reality.  Each day I see a bit of improvement in myself.  Each day I don't cry quite as much.  Each day I do a little more and give myself permission to add one more task back into my day.  But what I am coming to realize is that I will never be the same Elizabeth I was on November 25.  I don't know yet who I will come to be on the other side, but I know I will be a different version of myself.  I know I don't want to be "that woman" who lost her baby and cries all the time and is depressed about her life (although I have learned that it is okay to cry and grieve over this loss for as long as I need to). I don't want to be known as that.  But as much as it hurts to know I will never truly KNOW Norah, I pray that God will make me better when I finally feel like I am kind of through the storm.