Labouring with grief
June 9, 2009
I feel as though I have fallen inward in my search for understanding and acceptance. I am present, because I force myself to be, to not let the moment fade away or disapear but my desire is to fade away myself. There are no books that I have found that tell me how to negotiate the waves of grief while wiping a snotty nose and finding amusements for two year olds. My moments of grief are stolen, hidden not because I am ashamed but simply because I do not have the luxury of time or place. Knowing that soon I will be giving birth again, existing in that place where life and death are not separate, instills an urgency in my need to accept and move through my grief. Yet, just like the work of labour, the work of grief has its own rhythm and its own path and forcing it to move to another’s sense of timing will do nothing but ensure more pain that serves no purpose.
The birth of my daughter, was also my rebirth. It was my transformation. Outwardly, there was no sign or symptom of this change but I had shifted sideways, and my body became heavier and my soul lighter. I could see and hear more clearly and my heart became more open. I still fall back to my old ways, where I forget what really matters and become caught up in my own ego.
I am afraid that my upcoming birthing journey is going to be overshadowed and intertwined with my journey of grief. I am afraid of being in that space where life and death are one and the same while learning how to accept the death of my father. I am frightened that I will not have the strength or the capacity to go through two transformations at the same time. I am afraid that my child will be born swaddled in my grief. I am afraid that my sorrow will taint their birth gift and become a shadow that follows them on their own journey. I am afraid that I will try to control my labour rather than letting myself fall into it.
So I search. I search for words of wisdom that help me understand. I search for the quiet places within and outside of myself where I can just be. I search for the sounds that bring peace and comfort. I search for trust and I search for hope.
Grief takes its own time, and that’s going to be hard. But the one thing that is stronger than death is love. You have your family and friends to love you. You have the love you feel for your family and friends. Let that sustain you, and let us sustain you.
Your child will be born as an affirmation that life is a shining beacon, even in the midst of grief. The grief will still be there, because it takes as long as it takes to come to terms, and no amount of pushing can move you past it. But you’ll be strong enough to go through those two transformations because you are aware of the pitfalls.
We love you. Let us help you however we can: In talking or silence. In activity or just sitting. In remembering or distracting. Even if you don’t know what you want, let us help you find something that helps you. Or at least be there along the way.