Capture Your Grief- Day 9: Special Place

Day 9: Special Place

A place that brings you peace...

For me, this is a complicated thing to think about. I guess I have two answers... one is place that no longer exists, and the other is here. My blog and our amazing online community of bereaved mothers.

In the early days of grief I barely slept. I watched a lot of Criminal Minds and spent a lot of time online. The house was quiet and I had too much time on my hands. I was a mother of a nine month old and a two year old, but only had one child to take care of during the day. We were in the beginning stages of Max's autism diagnosis and I was barely hanging on. Reality sucked. Criminal Minds was an excellent distraction but I couldn't just sit and watch TV. My hands needed to be busy. My mind needed to be busy. I could NOT allow my mind to wander. So I spent my time blogging and scouring the internet for some place that could help my make sense of what the hell had just happened.

Ellie got sick on a Sunday. The Friday evening before, I had started my blog. I had originally intended for it to be a place for me to write about the issues we'd had getting pregnant and to network with other families dealing with autism. I NEVER expected that it would become a place for me to work through the unbelievable heartbreak of losing Ellie. My blog became a place for me to sort out all of the craziness that was going on in my head. I was never someone who kept a journal. But now, I can't say enough about how therapeutic it has been to write. Just getting the words out helps clear the fog...
I never thought that other people would be interested in reading what I had to say. In all honesty, I don't write for anyone else. I write for me. And I think it's safe to say that most other moms that blog also do it for themselves. I am so grateful that they do. Because during those early days, when I was sitting on the couch in the middle of the night, crying and looking for someone or something to help me make sense of it- I came across Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope. Hundreds of stories of loss. And a big huge list of blogs. I read, and I read, and I read. And I quickly discovered that even though our stories were all very different, they were very much the same.
I am so grateful for all of the amazing women/ mothers that I've met through blogging. I've even been lucky enough to meet face to face with a few of them. They understand. They don't judge. And I can always count on them. Together, we can remember our children and talk freely about them. Sadly, dead babies are the normal topic of conversation. Most people would be horrified. But for us, it's our reality- our norm. Without this place, those people, I don't know where I would be. This place has provided more peace and sanity than I ever would have expected...


The other place that brings me peace is Ellie's bedroom. The place where I kept her collection of dress and BabyLegs. The place that I had covered in pink- just for her. The place where we rocked her to sleep each night. The place where she had woken up with smiles and happy chatter every single morning.
When Ellie died, her room became a safe place for me. It smelled like her. Her laughter echoed off the walls. Everything was in it's place. I would go in the room, especially at night, and sit in the rocking chair. The glow of the night light, her giraffe in my arms, the creaking of the chair. I could feel her there...
Packing up Ellie's room was one of the hardest things I've had to do since she died. I felt like I was betraying her- erasing her. It was horrible. I took pictures of EVERYTHING. I am so thankful that I did because now that place is gone. And it isn't something we can ever get back...