Well, there you have it. I knew it was coming sooner or later. Better that it's later. If I had heard this 4 weeks ago, my reaction would have been violence. I am not even joking.
Instead, there will be no reaction. This email from an old auntie (who also didn't "get" that the girls had died until after I emailed her again to clarify) will go unanswered. At least for now. But other things in this exchange prompted another email to be written:
Mom, please stop telling people not to say anything to us about Iso.bel and Jo.vita. It really hurt to get Xmas cards from people that obviously had heard about their birth and death but yet didn’t say anything about them. We want them to be remembered and loved, not ignored. They are a part of our lives and always will be. Telling people not to say anything is probably the worst thing you can do.
I hate having to act like everything is ok and that I am ok. Because I am not. You are right. There is nothing you can do to ease this pain. But feeling like people are pretending they don’t exist or acting like something never happened makes it much, much worse. If people ask, tell them what happened. If they want to contact us, please let them. We need to hear from people. We need to know people care.I am sure this will prompt a phone call and a "I never know what you want from me" teary sob. Because it's all about her. Always. But I really felt this needed addressed so it stops happening. The last thing I want (besides being told that "G*d knows best") is communications cut off from people who want to talk to us because someone told them not to. Based on nothing.
It is NEVER a bad thing to reach out to someone who is hurting.
I LOVE your email to your Mom! Its really important to let people know what you need from them during this very difficult time! I can only imagine how hurtful it must be to have your babies ignored!
Your post prompted to to write this comment and say I am so so sorry for the loss of your beautiful daughters. I have been hesitant to comment because I felt I didn't know what the "right" thing to say was. I truly hope that you and your husband find comfort in each other (I know you do) and some peace in the memory of the beautifulness of your daughters.
I volunteer to do serious harm to the asshat who said the G*d comment. Seriously. How can anyone possibly say something like that and live with themselves? I guess it's just a platitude that they don't really stop and think about. But in any case, I'd still like to hurt them on your behalf.
your email to your mom is great. hope she can hear you. and i'm sorry about the other email. that person is probably unteachable.
by documenting all this, i hope it helps you let go of some of the intense emotions you must be feeling. You definitely teach all of us out here how to better respond to those going through the loss of a child.
Thanks so much, ladies. I have to admit, I've been obsessively checking my email this morning waiting for her response. I tried to be as non-confrontational as possible, but still, one's never sure how emails are received.
Mo, I think that documenting this is helping. I've been worried lately that I'm relying too much on blogging and all of you and that I need to pull away from this security blanket and face the world on my own. But I can't. Not just yet. Writing it down soothes me. And I hope makes me less of a bear for other people to deal with.
We are all always here for you and we understand that you also need the support and kind words from those who love you from your life "before" the tragedy. From now on, it will always be life "before" and "after" this horrible experience.
I might suggest that you reach out to people in your life, maybe by email as you can do it easily and quickly (though I know people who also have sent out birth/death announcements). I sent a simple email note out to all my loved ones and it got the ball started.
People were truly afraid to reach out because they figured we needed our space. After receiving the email, they felt it was an invitation to support us, through cards, calls and at least responses. It made a difference- and it helped me beyond words. Here is the link to what I had written.
Good for you for letting people know what you need. And yep, it is NEVER a bad thing to reach out.
Writing it down IS soothing isn't it?
It helps me and I've found that I'm a lot less tolerant of those uncomfortable with my grief. Those who can bring themselves to ask how I am get the long answer these days. Great email.
Keep writing keep blogging.
My mother is so totally the same way. Throughout our 3+ years of this shit she's gone on and on (and cried of course) about how left out she feels, about how she doesn't get to visit when she wants to cuz I don't want anyone around when we get results, about how she can't do anything right.
Some mothers, when they hit a certain age, apparently resort back to acting like they're in high school. Like you, I tend to send mine emails laying it out, which then make her do more crazy things, but at least it gets it off my chest for a bit. Sigh.
I'm so glad you wrote your mom. I know it may not change her responses since she'll make this about her (seriously, do we have the same mother???), but there's something about being honest about what you need that is freeing.
And the person who said God knows best? I want to beat them with a 2x4, and I'm not a violent person.
I want to hear about I. and J...how perfect they were, how loved. Keep telling us. We care.
I'm glad you had the courage to let your mother know that her behavior is not helping you. And from my perspective, I think reading your e-mail was an important reminder that even though I often (almost always) don't know the polite thing to say in bad situations, avoiding them entirely is not the solution. I hope your 'real life' friends find ways to support you in the coming months.
I hope your mom rises to the occasion - I'd like to think she means well (of course I am substituting my own mom here!) I really can't imagine the pain you are going through, losing my possibility through chemical pg was horrible, and no one knew. The very few people who did know just blew it off, like, oh just try again. Your babies are a special part of your lives and I hope people understand that even if the girls never got to come home with you, they will always be part of your family. I hope I am saying this in a good way, my heart is there but my writing skills are not really up to the task. Please be well, thinking of you.
Good on ya for writing to your mom. And poxes to those who throw G-d in your face in a way that is anything but helpful.
Okay maybe not poxes, but please have they any idea how this can make someone feel?
I've been thinking of you and your girls all month. I hope you've been feeling all of us in blog land reach out to you enough. We can do more, just ask, if you need us to try to fill the void until those in real life hear the message that you need them to reach out to you. Can you find someone who gets it in your real life to let people in your non-blog life to know what you need? People can be awful dense, and though not your job to teach them, perhaps you can delegating this schooling to someone who can... just a thougth.
Thinking of you. Everyday.
Great email. It's amazing what people do in the name of trying to protect us all. Well done with standing your ground
"God knows best" is as bad as "God never gives you more than you can handle." It's a load of crap.
My mother in law said the exact same thing to me the day that I miscarried. I only knew my baby for a moment, but I wanted to kill her for that comment. I actually had to leave town for three days to avoid seeing her or the rest of the family (none of whom even spoke to me for 24 hours when they found out what had happened.)
I will never compare my loss to yours, each time I try to put myself in your shoes I can't bear the pain of the THOUGHT...this is just a note to say that physical violence would have been warranted. And I am a pacifist.
I continue to grieve with you, in spite of my admittedly cowardly hiding from your blog of late as it tends to leave me breathless and tearful. Please excuse my indulgent and selfish absence, but know that I cry for you - and hold great hope for you - often.
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