Right Where I Am Project ..22 months and 5 days.

5:47 am

Thanks to Angie for initiating this project. Read more here.

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Twenty Two months and five days.



I miss her.
I think of her a million times a day, I'm still half expecting her to come back to me.I still can't quite grasp that forever is forever.
I'm heartbroken.

That's the bare bones of it, but that's not everything.

Mostly it's a good life, Woody and the children anchor me to this life, and there is joy,pure joy. Not something I ever thought there could be again.


"The deeper sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain."
Kahlil Gibran


I remember reading these words on the blog of a friend shortly after Florence died, and another friend reminded me of them again recently. As time goes by they have more and more meaning.

What I've come to realise lately is that there will always be good days and bad days. I will always miss her, my grief for her will always be a part of me, just as my love for her is.

There will always be unexpected triggers in my daily life, but these days they don't always make me cry, sometimes I can smile.

A sunbeam will prompt me to whisper "Is that you love?" and I might feel a moment of warmth.

I feel her with me, so much so, that I'm baffled when others don't see her. Walking to school with the boys, she's there toddling along beside me. In the evenings as I snuggle Ernest down to sleep, I can imagine her lying right there with us, or lately toddling off to the garden with Woody to say goodnight to the chickens.

Yesterday, Woody and I took the boys out to an aquarium for the day. The girls were at school. We felt very strange with just three children with us, but at the same time, it was nice to do something with just the boys.
And then my eye catches a little girl in the cafe, about two years old, her wisps of wavy hair pinned back from her eyes, holding on to her Daddy's hand, and waving to the fish....it's a kick in the guts...she's missing.
Just moments later, another little girl, this time in a wheelchair, severely disabled, her Daddy showing her some little toys from the gift shop, and I feel like the universe is forcing me to see that I don't know what I'm missing. Had Florence survived would that be her life? We'll never know.

Forever is forever, and we'll never know why. We'll never know why her lungs filled with blood and not air. Why she had to leave us....

Damn! I wanted to write something hopeful for those finding their way here soon after their losses, and here I am heading down that same pathway, the one I've gone over and over a million times.

It's complicated this life without her, sometimes I feel there are shadows of myself in different lives, all stemming back to 22nd July 2009. There is a huge part of me still there, willing her to live, hoping for a different outcome, and then I'm here. I see a different me in the mirror, an older, darker, sadder me.

I just miss her. x

Don't be shy, say hello!

30 comments

  1. Eloquent as always... best wishes, knitlass x

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  2. "The deeper sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain."

    That is so so true!
    5 weeks ago my son drowned in a neighbor's pond. I found him and reanimated him. He spent 2 weeks in coma, being ventilated - was once "woken up" - didn't work. The second try was successful.
    We have a new child. And as by a miracle he is just exactly like he left us. It is phantastic and I didn't dare dream this could ever be possible - not remembering me holding my dead child in my arms (he hat no pulse and did not breathe)...

    We have been back home now for two weeks - and life is not life anymore, life is different. Didn't imagine I could go on living...but I can, since life goes on, I have to as well.

    So, this happening taught me to feel fear, pain, anger, thankfulness and also joy...
    May there be loads of it in your life, in Woody's, the Children's and in Florence's!

    Hugs from Germany - still using your pod btw :-)

    Daria

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  3. Yes, I know what you mean at the end there Jeanette. I often ponder over 'big' events in my past and imagine that at that point what if I fractured, you know, one part of me left my first husband but somewhere out there another me is still living with that life. Or more recently, one me sat in a grotty hospital room and watched her father slip away, but another me is still out there with her Daddy safe and well. Its a kind of self torture, but at the same time, some comfort to be had from it.
    22 months and 5 days, its just a blink really, I think sometimes you expect too much from yourself. I think you are amazing.
    V
    xxx

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  4. Oh Jeanette. I felt all of this. The love, the hope, the beauty, the pain and the deep sorrow. It was all there, mingled in with your beautiful words.
    I too sometimes think that if we'd managed to "save her" just a few hours earlier so that she hadn't been stillborn, that she too would have been been born very ill and that maybe, in some very twisted way, we were lucky. But mostly, just like you, I just miss her. And I want her back. I don't think that is too much to ask.
    Missing Florence with you. Every day.
    Oh, and I love that quote. Thanks for sharing it. Needed to read that today.
    xo

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  5. Daria, My goodness1 I'm so relieved to hear your son survived. I had no idea. (I've looked at your blog,but I don't read german!)
    many many hugs to you. x

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  6. What you wrote is just perfect. Eloquent. Aching and Beautiful. That is exactly what it is. It is a good life. And that you still are heartbroken. I think I worry in the same way, that I am not being positive enough in the face of a good life, but there will always be that deep sorrow you write about, and that is important to mention too. Thank you for participating, Jeanette. xo

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  7. So beautifully written.

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  8. Beautiful words that will offer hope to those suffering in similar situations, after all there is not a band aid big enough to knit together the scars of such suffering.

    All you can do is remain true to yourself and others around you.

    Hugs San xx

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  9. so eloquent Jeanette, heartbreakingly beautiful and so so sad. But I'm glad you can express your grief so beautifully. I wonder if your recognition of the ongoing pain and how your grief is changing over time will be as much/more comfort to other newly bereaved parents than lashings of hope and joy. Just a thought... amongst many others I have reading your page.

    Your chickens look fab btw ;)

    love to you and your followers here, especially Daria, what an unbelieveable story...

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  10. I think you have given lots of baby loss mums and dads a lot of hope in the sentence:

    There will always be unexpected triggers in my daily life, but these days they don't always make me cry, sometimes I can smile.

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  11. It's hopeful just reading your words and knowing that despite what the really real world wants, it's okay to keep loving and remembering our babies. Thank you for sharing Florence with us~

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  12. This is my first visit here. Your blog is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing this, and I'm so sorry we're here together. Sending love and remembering with you!
    xo

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  13. I've no idea what to say Jeanette. I've never lost a child and so cannot truely identify with your story but the way you describe your emotions so openly really helps me to understand how deep and overwhelming the pain is.

    xXx

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  14. lots of love to you Jeanette. You write so beautifully.

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  15. "I still can't grasp that forever is forever."
    This is the thing that hits me in the gut sometimes and I have to learn it again and again . . .

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  16. Having read almost everyones Right Where I am, I have to conclude...it never get better. It get easier, you find happiness...but better is not something that you ever get after your baby dies.

    Thanks for the encouraging words on my blog, I truly appreciate it.

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  17. Beautiful Jeanette. I feel the same, mostly it's a good life. But part of me is still waiting and hoping for a different outcome. It seems impossible to let go of that somehow.

    Thinking of Florence xo

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  18. You have such a beautiful way with words Jeanette. I think that seeing your view does indeed offer hope. The reality is that this life does not ever get wrapped up with a bow in symbol of a happy ending. Our happy endings died with our children. There is life afterwards though.. and of course love. Your words emphasize how beautifully you share both of these with your readers and I thank you for that. Remembering Florence with you...

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  19. Very eloquent. I've been missing my daughter something fierce right now *huggles*

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  20. Beautifully written. (((hugs)))

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  21. ugh..yes....i still miss her.exactly....

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  22. I think I love this post because it isn't all about hopefulness and positivity. It's honest, and the good and the bad, and the way the missing never goes away are so very well-expressed. Thanks for sharing it.

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  23. To me the hopeful part is that you had these thoughts while out and about with your family. What's more positive than that?

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  24. I feel her with me, so much so, that I'm baffled when others don't see her.

    Me too, Jeanette. Me too. x

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  25. "It's complicated this life without her, sometimes I feel there are shadows of myself in different lives, all stemming back to 22nd July 2009. There is a huge part of me still there, willing her to live, hoping for a different outcome, and then I'm here. I see a different me in the mirror, an older, darker, sadder me"

    I still live there in those moments too, tracing over different scenarios that could have culminated in a different outcome. I appreciate that you summed it all up to the bare bones. Because at the bare bones of it all, yes, we all just miss our babies.

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  26. Beautifully said Jeanette. Love the Kahlil Gibran quote - we read something from him at Z's funeral. Thanks so much for this, and for your lovely comments over at mine too.

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  27. I hear your positivity, Jeannette, but I still hear that endless pain that will always be there. Thank you for being honest with all of us and writing from the heart. Sending much love your way always.

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  28. I have just read: "The deeper sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain", over and over and over...

    I'm only just beginning to scratch the surface of my grief and can see there is a whole lot of lessons to be learned, in the "forever is forever".

    Thank you for sharing these wise words here for me to see and thank you for sharing your precious Florence

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  29. I finally got here. Such wonderful, wistful words Jeanette. Your strong, fierce yet gentle love for Florence shines out of every word of this.

    "..forever is forever." I call Emma my "forever baby" but I still can't grasp what that means - I can only live it, minute by minute.

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  30. You have such a way with words and memories and I'm thankful for your willingness to continue to share. Thank you. Much love to you.

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