So today is the year anniversary of Silas. So much has happened in a year, its almost unbelievable. I was just lying in bed, trying to sleep and so many thoughts were zooming through my brain. I had to get up and write. I had no trouble falling asleep earlier on the couch while watching Planet Earth (which, btw, is amazing on our new tv). But once I moved to the bed, sleep just became an impossibility until I got these thoughts out. Something else was strange too, usually by this point in the evening of us getting into bed, at least 2 of the 3 cats are in bed with us. None of them were there. The bed felt empty, even though it was filled with Chris and me, something was definitely missing.
There are so many things about this situation I’ve been struggling with. Usually I like to write something cohesive following in the style of Chris because this is (or was!) his blog, but I think I need to just ramble a bit on this one.
So last night we had our upstairs neighbors over with some of their friends to play Rockband. We didn’t talk about what happened, it just wasn’t appropriate. These were new friends and it just didn’t seem necessary. I’m sure our neighbors (who unfortunately will have the sounds of my labor ingrained into their brains for life) told them about us, how could they not? Regardless, a pleasant evening was had by all and none of it had anything to do with Silas.
I think about how one of the bloggers I’ve been reading lately mentioned how we should be able to wear a shirt at all times that states “my baby died 10 hours after he was born” or something like that to let everyone in the world know the awful pain we are going through on a daily basis. I find it so strange to talk to people who don’t know me or what happened and to just allow that to just be. I was pregnant and delivered a baby. But now there is no baby. It’s just a really weird place to be in, especially since all I have left is the baby weight (which I know I keep mentioning but I really can’t help it, it makes me crazy).
Today I went to my yoga center for the free yoga day they were having. I have not been back since taking my last prenatal class all those months ago. I have been wanting to, but something was holding me back. I guess I was just scared to go there and have all those memories come at me full force. I have a few workshops I’m giving there planned for the next few months, so today I was going to teach a few free kids yoga classes. It felt great to be back, it’s such a warm environment and I realized a very necessary place to go to continue in my healing process. A few women were having a conversation about hypnobirthing and I just had to chime in and say how much I loved it and found it helpful during my labor. I’m finding it important to mention bits and pieces of my pregnancy in casual conversations, just to prove it did happen. No one asked me any further questions, but I assumed that they just assumed I had a baby at home. I wasn’t going to tell them any different, they didn’t ask. It was weird. But I guess this is all part of my new normal. I have to talk about my pregnancy and labor, it happened, I delivered a beautiful baby, even though he is not here with us. I can’t deny it happened and I need to make sure to keep talking about it. It feels good. Even when I don’t share the tragic end result.
So anyway, I took this yoga class today at the center. It is called “Yoga for Anxiety and Depression.” It was free and there were a lot of people there. It’s cool to see so many people wanting to use yoga to help deal with their issues. It was amazing and the teacher was amazing and I am so happy I went. I think I even convinced Chris to come with me to a workshop she’s giving in a few weeks. I don’t think I’m even depressed or anxious most of the time, you would think that would be the case, but I’m just not. Though I do have moments of both at times, so learning healthy tools to deal with it when it comes up is so necessary. I think my background in yoga has been a major part of my ability to be able to deal with the many layers of grief. The more I can learn, the better for me in the long run.
Another situation we’re trying to deal with is with those friends who kinda dropped the ball. They either never contacted us or did at the very beginning and we haven’t heard from them since. Where does that leave us? When we see them, which may happen as we become more social, do we tell them how much they hurt us? Do we not say anything and just let it be what it is? We’re not sure. In my opinion, 3 1/2 months out, you should have contacted us at this point. If you live within a few hours, you should have stopped over for a visit. And if you did once or twice in the beginning, a little email right about now to check up on us, wish us a happy new year, blah blah blah, would be nice. But I know from reading all the blogs lately, this is an issue. It’s something that happens after a tragedy like this and it’s human nature. People are strange, they don’t know how to deal with death and especially the death of a baby. I’ve made it a point to thank everyone in my life who has continued to bother me with love because it is helping us. In case you out there who don’t know this- comments on our blog, emails, phone calls, texts, letters, visits, they help us to heal. It won’t bring Silas back, but it makes each day a little easier or brings a smile to my face when maybe I was feeling really really sad. I know we’re scary to be around. I know its a tough thing for anyone to deal with, but I’m telling you point blank, it’s something that will help all of us, every single one of us.
I’ve been obsessively reading blogs these days, blogs from all of you who comment on ours, and blogs I discover through the countless blogrolls on the blogs I read. I’ve come to realize that I need this community now in my life in order to get through this. I also need my friends and family of course, you guys are the best, but you don’t really get it. And I don’t want you to ever get it, I would never wish this pain on any of you. Your support counts in other ways. I also need the support from others who get it, who have been there and who are going through the exact same emotions as me now. I read some of those blogs and I could have easily have written those posts. I know how much the comments mean to me, so I am commenting, every day, I am obsessively reading and commenting. Because I know how it feels and I know its important for our community to have this support. We are a lucky bunch of unlucky people. We have this whole crazy blogland of babylost parents out there. It’s simply unreal. This post from Cara of Building Heavenly Bridges really captures how I’m feeling right now. I love it, it’s a beautiful piece.
I haven’t taken very good care of myself lately, the month of Dec was brutal between the laziness, the eating and the drinking. I am now making it a point to get myself ready for this new life that will eventually grow inside me again. I need to be ready in body and mind and I’m ready to prepare myself for that again. What is so hard, and what we keep talking about is that we are back to square one. It’s so frustrating. We are where were were exactly a year ago. It’s such a helpless feeling. It’s so difficult to even comprehend. I do know that we got pregnant once, so it will happen again. But this in between place we’re in makes us feel so lost. Somehow, together, we will navigate through this mess. But today, I am going to honor my little baby, think about him and cherish the little miracle that he was.
Elm City Dad 
23 comments
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January 5, 2009 at 10:09 am
Kristina
This is a beautiful post, Lani. I’m glad that yoga is helping you to continue healing. I also think it’s great that you are able to talk about what you experienced with others, even if they don’t know all the details. Good for you for searching out the support you need, whether it be through blogs, yoga or simply reaching out to those you know who love and care about you. I so look forward to reading posts by you or bones. I feel connected to you guys knowing what you are feeling and how you are getting along. Amazingly the gourd you gave us is still on the counter in the kitchen and is just now starting to get soft. I think about you guys multiple times a day, every time I see it, as well as at other random times. Sending Tuttle love your way…((HUGS))
January 5, 2009 at 10:17 am
Sheri Rouse
I don’t even know how I happened here, I think maybe through Mandy’s blog over at No Swimmers in the Tubes, but I have been here through your journey. (and even blogged about you myself) While I have not shared in the loss of a child, I find that through the loss of my father some friends have no idea what to say. Some avoid, now maybe they also feel it has been too long without a contact and are feeling like they cannot reconnect to you.
I think you are doing the best you can and I am amazed at your bravery. I think of you and Chris often. (that sounds weird coming from someone you’ve never met)
Many good thoughts are coming your way. Take care
January 5, 2009 at 11:46 am
Tamara
Thinking of you, Lani. I’m honoring Silas today too, with a candle flickering away on my desk as I write this. xoxo
January 5, 2009 at 1:07 pm
Amy
Thinking of you and Chris, as I do every day. I’m so glad you have connected to the online community of people who really get it, though I’m sure it’s a bittersweet connection. I follow their comments on your blog and can just feel the love and energy they give.
I’ll honor Silas today, one year from the day the energy of his little being began to grow inside of his amazing mother.
xoxo,
Amy
January 5, 2009 at 2:08 pm
mammaliza
thinking about you both today and silas’s beautiful too short life. these anniversaries are the hardest, and there’s a year of them ahead.
i also feel that i’m back to square one. but worse. at least before lev i had my naive optimism, now i just feel like i have no idea what the future holds. i’m glad that you still believe in miracles, i will hold onto that. and that you have been able to talk about your pregnancy and remember the beauty and the miracle of silas.
sending you love
a
January 5, 2009 at 2:17 pm
Nuwie
I have been reading some of the other blogs found here too, and though the stories there make me sad too, I always feel reassured knowing that you have this support group of people who understand what you are going through. i am glad for that.
wishing you strength and getting yourself healthy and ready this year!
January 5, 2009 at 5:46 pm
Sally
I sort of feel like I’m back at square -1. Trying for a baby again, but without the excitement and optimism. I did it once before and I did it easily – i wish that carried over to guarantee it would be that way again.
I guess we all just have to keep believing in miracles.
Love you guys. One day, us four, ROCKBAND!
January 5, 2009 at 7:39 pm
Gal
I’m here, reading and writing too, right by your side. 🙂
January 5, 2009 at 8:01 pm
Bon
for me it was right about three months when all these same issues began to surface…how to integrate new people who didn’t know into my life, how to face/deal with friends/family who’d wounded us with silence. i suppose they’re reflective of lives ready to open again after the cocooning that comes with the shock…that, however crappy the awkwardness and pain of dealing with the issues, is positive. because until you’re ready to open, there can be no looking forward.
fwiw, anytime i’ve met someone who felt truly special (and that’s rare) i’ve told them. the first time was a new coworker i met and travelled with about three months and a bit into my grief. she didn’t ask anything about kids, i just opened up and told her, privately, in the midst of longish personal conversation. i almost never just “share” things, it’s not my way, never was, but i knew that i was making a genuine connection with this person, and i knew that for her to get me at all, she needed to know. that became my threshhold…if i think someone is going to become a regular, real, and intimate part of my life, someone i’ll really talk to, i’ll mention Finn. otherwise, unless the subject comes up, i don’t usually.
January 5, 2009 at 9:26 pm
Ezra's Mommy
Sigh. I am struggling so hard with what to do with the people in our life. There are so few that have been there completely and totally since Ezra left. After the enormous outpouring right when Ezra died, some disappeared completely, others pop up from time to time all cheery, expecting the old happy Sarah to be back. She’s gone. Forever. Mostly I don’t have the energy to put into reaching out to these friends right now. And then yes, new people who don’t know are hard…it feels like denying Ezra’s existence not to acknowledge him to them, like ignoring the obvious (at least to me) elephant in the room…and yet its sometimes too much…already there’s a gaping hole in my heart, but sometimes it is too much to show others it’s there.
January 5, 2009 at 9:59 pm
MJ
I came upon your site some time ago; I don’t remember how. I’ve started to leave a comment several times, but was afraid that I might say something hurtful. Your piece today made me realize that there is comfort in knowing others are with you.
I am with you. I think often of you two. I admire your courage in writing about your pain. My heart aches for your loss of your beautiful boy. I hope that you will find some healing. I pray for you.
January 6, 2009 at 2:20 am
Christa
I too believe in miracles. Thinking of you, Chris and Silas tonight. Much love always.
January 6, 2009 at 7:44 am
Lauren
Hi Lani, I hardly know you and I have never met Chris, but I am a friend of Jaimie’s from South Africa. In light of this post I just wanted to let you know that not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, Chris and Silas. Despite the fact that your and Chris’s writing invariably leaves me with tears rolling down my face as I sit at my desk, I nevertheless log on to elmcitydad almost daily to see how you are doing. I wish I could say/write something more useful or meaningful but I am at a loss. I just wanted you to know that you three are always in my thoughts and to send love and strength from across the ocean.
January 6, 2009 at 7:59 am
WG
Some of the people who didn’t stop by may have written on your blog anonymously. Somemay have been afraid because they have newborns or kids and didn’t want to hurt you – you DID mention that it was hard to see certain friends who had babies. They probably just didn’t know better. Now they will read what you’ve written and maybe understand a little better.
January 6, 2009 at 4:21 pm
acorn
Sorrow in our eyes
Familiar soles from far lands
Greet you with wide arms
January 6, 2009 at 7:59 pm
clara
First, I apologize that my picture here is of my son, I don’t know how to have a neat design like everyone else & I don’t know how to change it.
We lost our baby boy to shoulder dystocia in a similar way to you almost 7 years ago. The feeling of being socially inept, I remember that well. I think its very normal and I admire you both so much for being so honest about it and really living in the present. The friends that don’t show up, sometimes they come back, and in time you forgive all that people couldn’t handle, sometimes they never come back. You will have new friends too.
I’m another one who doesn’t know you and thinks of you both often.
January 6, 2009 at 9:42 pm
Rachel
I drifted in a while back to. And keep checking in, just because I want you to know that I hear you, both of you, and I care xxx
And you are so right, it is those small gestures, that can help us just a little. People reaching out, even when maybe we can not.
Peace and love, Rach x
January 6, 2009 at 10:35 pm
Cara
Oh Lani – I remember the sleepless nights. And, those first conversations where you say just enough, but not too much.
I am just so grateful that this community exists to take solace in. When the rest of the world can’t seem to fill our need, we have each other.
Constantly thinking of you, especially as you remember creating Silas.
xxoo
January 7, 2009 at 6:54 pm
Auntie Lis
Hi L & C,
Love you so much, thinking of you and our lost Silas today.
Love, Melis
January 7, 2009 at 7:50 pm
jen
i keep reading your words and thinking how brave you are, for putting these words out and for what you are enduring. i realize my thoughts don’t help, not even one bit, but it’s there all the same.
January 7, 2009 at 9:16 pm
tash
Three months is when I found everything dried up. Everyone who was going to say anything had said it. The flowers dried up. The cards stopped coming. People stopped asking how I was doing. (Six months was when a number of people who had been talking started telling us to get over it already.) I’m not sure what to do those people either, the ones who sent an initial “I’m sorry” and I haven’t heard from them since. The people who kept on asking, kept on talking — even when I didn’t write or call back — are the ones who are my closest friends today. Thank goodness for them. My circle has certainly become smaller.
I conceived Maddy over mother’s day weekend, ’06. Going through that in ’07 was extremely tough. I’m really so very sorry.
January 9, 2009 at 12:08 am
Shuman
hi lani.
not a day goes by when i don’t think of you guys. during our trip in mexico we looked into the sky each night and saw orion. being with close friends and looking at orion together was a very special feeling.
love ya lots – shuman
January 9, 2009 at 6:01 pm
Tricia
Dear Lani & Chris,
I visit your blog everyday to read how you are doing. You are both so brave. Your honesty & strength amidst this terrible tragedy inspires me everyday. You are so deserving of another beautiful miracle. Sending many wishes for your New Year.
You are in my thoughts & prayers,
Tricia M.