The 5 Stages of Grief:
Denial: it really happened, I get it
Anger: sometimes
Bargaining: in vain
Depression: a lot of times
Acceptance: none in sight
That was a few weeks ago. Honestly, that's not entirely true anymore. Here is the updated version for today:
The 5 Stages of Grief:
Denial: it really happened, I get it
Anger: occasionally
Bargaining: not really
Depression: sometimes
Acceptance: getting there
The title of this post is sort of misleading. This is not a fool-proof method for accepting the unacceptable. It's more of a question: How do I accept the unacceptable? I really haven't figured it out, yet, but here's what I've got so far:
1. Take all the time you need. I hate when I feel rushed. I hate when I feel like someone is pressuring me to be "over it," because a certain amount of time has gone by. Don't let anyone make you feel this way. Grieve on your own timeline.
2. Vent when you need to, to whomever you need to. Sometimes I confide in my mom, my best friend, my husband, my dogs (they're good listeners). Sometimes I get in my car at the end of a long day and scream as loud as I can (this was a suggestion from my husband, apparently it works for him, it just makes me feel like a crazy person). And I do sometimes vent to whoever just happens to be in front of me at that moment asking me "how I'm doing" in a word-vomit type way. Hey, if you didn't want to know, why did you ask? Venting on this blog is also extremely helpful.
2. Find support wherever you can find it. Your inner circle of friends and family, support groups, a therapist. Whatever works for you. You are not an island unto yourself, you are surrounded by other human beings and at least one of them probably wants to help you.
3. Get a hobby. Find a creative outlet. I've said before that cooking and playing the piano work for me pretty well. In the month after losing Dominic I crocheted like 15 tiny baby blankets to donate to the L&D unit at my hospital. Someone had done so for me, and that's why my tiny baby got a tiny blanket. That little blanket was such a comfort to me in the first few weeks after losing him. It had swaddled him. It had touched his skin. It was proof that he was real. It sits on my nightstand with a few other things that remind me of him. I still pick it up and rub it against my cheek from time to time. I wanted to be able to give someone else the same kind of comfort. But it really could be anything. You could run, paint, draw, garden, learn a new instrument. You could even just pull a Grey's Anatomy and dance it out (what? we've all done it.. don't act like you haven't). Just find some sort of outlet.
4. Acknowledge your emotions. Don't just keep them bottled up, because you will explode eventually and it will not be pretty. This can be accomplished by venting to your support people, through therapy, or through a creative outlet like writing or journaling. Obviously, I chose writing.
5. Try to gain some perspective. Realize that it could always be worse. Even on the day I delivered, there was a woman in the delivery room next door to me who just lost her baby at 24 weeks. This was a sharp reminder that it could always be worse.
6. Be thankful for what you do have. There's got to be something to be thankful for. In my case, I have a wonderful husband, a supportive family, and great friends. I have a good job with an understanding boss and (for the most part) sensitive coworkers. I also have pretty fantastic hair. Just saying.
7. Realize that it won't be this way forever. Think about the things that were problems for you 5 years ago. Are you still dealing with the same problems? I certainly hope not. 5 years ago I desperately wanted to be engaged and was sure it was never going to happen for me. Well that worked itself out, just fine. How about 10 years ago? I was worried about what college to pick, what career to choose, how to get out of the destructive relationship I was stuck in. All of these obstacles are distant memories, now. Try to give yourself solace in the fact that in 5-10 years, this will all just be a distant memory. In the words of Charlie Chaplin, "nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles."
8. See what you can learn from this experience. This is a hard one, especially since most of the lessons I have learned from losing Dominic are not lessons I ever wanted to learn in the first place. But I do acknowledge that when/if I ever do become a mother, I'll be a damn good one. I will love the crap out of my kids and be thankful for every single breath they take. And motherhood will never, ever be something I take for granted.
9. Try to choose to be happy. This is the hardest one and I'm still working on it. I have realized that happiness is not just going to fall into my lap, anymore. Before I lost Dominic, I pretty much lived a charmed life and happiness was not something I needed to struggle for. If I am ever going to be truly happy again, it is going to have to be a conscious decision on my part.
Some of those are hyperlinks to other blog posts that elaborate on them a little more or are examples of them. So I haven't reached "acceptance," yet, as I know some women on my support boards have. But I am getting closer. Last night was the happiest I have been since probably before I lost Dominic. I am really making an effort to try to choose to be happy. Because, why not? Yes, my baby died and I am not pregnant again yet. But how long am I going to sit here and make myself miserable because of my circumstances? I need to choose happiness... because I deserve to be happy.