Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Where are my tears?

I think EMDR might have worked too effectively.  I think I have lost my tears.  Or more accurately, I have lost the intensity and rawness of my emotions.  I feel like I now walk through life with a dullness, just a low-level depression.  And, often feel the tears there ready to surface, but they do not come.  I don’t want to lose my tears.  I have lost too much already.  It got me to thinking about how much one really loses when they lose a child.  I have not only lost my son, but I have lost his whole future, our whole future.  I have lost birthdays, first teeth, beach days playing in the sand, teaching him how to ride a bike, his 1st love, that call in the middle of the night, “mom I’m drunk can you pick me up,” I have lost family dinners, meeting the girlfriends, watching him graduate high school, college, marriage.  I have lost my hopes and dreams of what his life would be, what our life would be as mother and child.  But, I did not only lose him and his life, but also my own.  I have lost me, who I am, who I was.  I am not the same person I was before I lost Silas.  I have lost my joy, my laugh (although I do laugh, but it is a hollow, empty laugh, void of real joy), I have lost my love for dancing, for roller skating.  I am no longer carefree enough to dance, to skate.  I have lost my zest for life.  I have lost my innocence (although I never felt very innocent).  Many BLM’s talk about finding our “new normal,” who we become after our loss.  I am just starting to figure out some of what my “new normal” is, who I am becoming, and I don’t really like it.
And, here I am being selfish again.  My therapist told me to not be so self-focused, that the focus should be on Silas.  And it is, but how can I not also focus on me?  He was my son, that I lost, and my world is forever changed because of it.  There is a creative prompt on stilllife365 that talks about how self-focused we are when grieving and her prompt was to describe grief through art without using the words “I” or “me.”  I have been brainstorming how to do this because I think it is a good exercise, but today is about me. ME, ME, ME! 
I feel like I have lost almost everything important to me and I can’t even cry about it because I lost my tears too. 


  1. Oh Honey,

    Your blog is so hard for me to read...I have tears rolling down my cheeks as I read it, look at your inspired art and listen to your music, I love you so much, so today I will cry for you. You will find tears. they will come back to you. I realize again how lucky I am to have you in my life! So lucky to have the chances to watch all the changes of your life!

    I would do anything to change it all and have Silas with us! It's just empty words, I can change nothing! But my heart is with you three, Mom, Dad and Baby Silas. Thank you, my sweet little girl, you are my sunshine and you will never never know dear how much I love you!

    Don't lose your tears, be kind, patient and compassionate to yourself and Nate. There is no correct way to grieve their is only your way and it is OK! You are an inspiration to me everyday, and your courage and honesty inspires so many!

    Love Mom

  2. Hopefully this is not offensive, but I'm not sure how much I like your therapist...! While Silas can no longer feel pain - YOU can, and DO every day. In fact, you have no choice and cannot get away from it, no matter how much you long for relief. It feels to me like telling someone who is being constantly slammed with a hammer not to think so much about their own pain; impossible and actually, cruel.

    Anyone who would call your feelings selfish just doesn't understand grief - and almost definitely hasn't lived through anything much of it personally. They may say they understand, but the advice they're giving says they have never walked a mile in your shoes.

    Your Silas is truly beautiful and I ache, ache, ache with you - I wish he could be in your arms right here, right now.

    Reading your blog and finding it very worthwhile,

    Cathy in Missouri

    P.S. I don't think you're a selfish person at all. Nothing I have read in your writing has made me think that. You're in grief and terrible pain. That is not the same thing as selfish & I hope you won't believe anyone who tells you so.

  3. Shaina, I wanted to reach out to you and say hi. I lost my daughter (my firstborn) Georgiana Bliss on March 20. I was 38 weeks and 2 days with her, and my body was already showing early labor signs. I had (what they later discovered when my water broke) a placental abruption caused by a velamentous cord insertion (happens in 1% of pregnancies).

    I know how brokenhearted you are. I feel it too. You need to do anything you can to take care of yourself. This is what I tell myself. I grieve for my daughter everyday, all day, right now. But I also know she is happy in heaven, and does not feel any of my pain. If she's in heaven, I think to myself, ok, I need to take care of myself. I do whatever I can to give myself just a tiny bit of comfort, whether that's shaving my legs in the shower and just thinking about her, lighting a candle, doing a crossword, getting a massage, or breaking a couple of cheap dishes in the basement.

    I promise you the tears will return. Nothing can hold those back. Don't worry about that. Just take care of yourself, grieve when you need to, sink in the sadness when you need to, try to find joy where you can, even if it's small.

    I know it will get better for both of us. I know we will both feel joy again. The sadness and emptiness will diminish and become much more manageable. I am saying lots of prayers for you.

  4. I wish there was a like button so I could like Groves' comment. I was thinking this before I even read the comment. Get a new therapist. This person obviously doesn't get it. This is YOUR grief. You own it. And honestly, if you focus more on your baby, you'll grieve then too. (I don't know how a grieving mother can focus MORE on her baby, but... maybe that's just me.)

  5. First off, hugs to you. Secondly, I know exactly what your therapist is doing, and I do not think he is calling you selfish. Self-focused is not the same as selfish. I know exactly what he means and have thought this about myself and my grief. You didn't lose YOU. And once you realize the loss isnt about you, not a reflection of you, not your fault, not the end of your life, not the end of your identity, I think the grief will get easier. I am not there yet, as I am still very self-focused in my grief. The "Why me?" of it all. It is totally natural. Don't write off your therapist unless you truly think he is making things worse. It sounds to me like you have made a lot of progress in a very short time. I think a very healthy step (and something I am working on) is recognizing that our children don't define us. They aren't ALL of who we are, nor should they be. Trust me Shaina, you aren't done with tears yet. I don't think any of us ever are. I cry more at almost 6 months out than I did 3 months out. It's just the grief ride. Buckle in.

    I am thinking of a quote I find comforting:
    "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of
    life's longing for itself."

    ( Kahlil Gibran)

  6. you hit the nail on the head JoyAndSorrow. My therapist wasn't calling me selfish, I was. I miss typed if I wrote that he had. What he meant was that is was unhealthy for me to stay in the self-loathing place that I was in, and that is I stayed in that place I would suffer for ever. I actually really like him and I feel like in the few sessions we have had, I have made good improvements. Now, that I know longer solely focus on what a terrible mother and person I am, I can actually just grieve the loss of my son. And, of course in doing so I will also spend sometime self-focused, and what I call selfish, but not self-hating. Oh, and I got my tears back…which feels good.