Hi dear friend,

I'm sorry that you are feeling so lonely...and caught between mothering worlds. I have not completely walked in your shoes, though I know that my primary infertility left me feeling incredibly, incredibly lonely...like being the last-picked on a kickball team - only a thousand times worse.

I also think that loneliness is a necessary part of grieving. Grief is something that must be walked through individually. Of course we can meet parallel walkers along the way...but at some point their paths lead elsewhere.

I also know that I tend to isolate myself with my grief. Sometimes I do this to try to shield myself from the pain of my son's death. Sometimes because I am tired. But mostly, I do it because I feel ill-fitted among both the babylost and those who have never lost a child. I lost a child and gained a child simultaneously, and I feel guilty for coming here and complaining about my loss. But then I feel guilty for not honoring Will and his memory. I live in contradictions.

So, yes, lonely is very real to me.

I wish I could make your hurt all better and fulfill the desires of your heart. Many hugs,

Eve

Eliza,

I think your questions have many answers--for me at least. At times, I feel that the lonliness & isolation I feel is self-inflicted for not sharing my grief with those closest to me. But at others, I agree with Eve, that even if shared, you are eventually left to your own devices in your grieving. Friends think that once you grieve the loss of a child, the pain, or possibly the memory, should be gone--but while the pain subsides, maybe ebbs & flows, it doesn't completely go away, and frankly, the memory should not be forgotten.

Many of my friends have or are having babies, while I, after my miscarriage many years ago, am having difficulty conceiving now...so I can relate to how you feel when listening in on conversations about maternity leave and strollers. I'm happy for my friends, but at the same time, each conversation I smile through, just cuts. I understand, and I hope knowing that you are not alone in that feeling helps you.

I think you said it best when you said, "I am mother, and not a mother. I have a son and no child." Those words have eluded me over the years, but in ther simplicity, they hold so much truth. Thank you.

Sometimes I deny the pain, other times I embrace it. I haven't found anything to completely erase it during low times...other than a good cry which is natural body function to release stress, one of the best releases for me is writing....the most beautiful emotions and the ugliest, I think being able to be completely honest with yourself with the security of confidentiality helps to process the myriad of feelings.

Take care.
P

I keep thinking about this question and my thoughts jump this way and that.

I've come to see that grief is inherently the most lonely of journeys. It is impossible for others to comprehend our unique losses. I've never felt more alone and, at times, abandoned, as I have these past 9 months. At times, that isolation has been self-imposed. I've retreated when I've needed space to heal... but, more often, I've retreated to protect myself from more pain at the hands of others who have avoided me, or who have said stupid things to me, or who have minimized my daughter.

Over time, I've emerged back into the world. The loneliness is less acute. As the one year anniversary looms in the distance, however, I sense that I will retreat again. I can't bear keeping up a festive front while everyone else celebrates the holiday season.

Eliza, I am thinking of you, wishing for some peace to come your way.

I am very lonely. I used to not be so sure what helped me get through it. But a long drive down the same dirt roads my father taught me to drive on i found myself un able to stop smiling. Just remebering everything these roads have offered and givin me made me realize that the things that made me smile when i was young still keeps me happy now. I know i would have taught my son to drive those roads. Maybe he would have been able to realize the same things i did.

Well, I don't know if this is helpful or not, but in amongst the standard protocol crap I was handed (the nurse who got me when my child was delivered was not one who cared, this is why I'm irritated about it) was a number for First Candle, saying that there is a 24 hour grief counseling line at 1-800-221-7437. I have not yet tried it but this is a recent publication, there is a website for the organization at www.firstcandle.org which I am probably going to end up visiting and researching today. I think I'm going into my "hiding in professionalism" mode myself here, they've got me not going back to work until after next Wednesday and so I'm sitting at the house alone today, digging through crap without being able to do heavy lifting or housecleaning. This actual isolation many of us are forced into at the beginning is bad stuff, no denying it - but would it be good to go hide at work? I don't know. Jewish law seems to have a great answer with the 10 days you grieve and nothing else, but modern practicality doesn't seem to let you do this very often.

One thing I think that increases the loneliness, at least it did with the last one, is not being able to say anything about your child in front of other people, sometimes that guilty feeling that you'll "jinx" others by being around them with small children or pregnant. So knowing you can talk to someone helps, whether it's us rapidly tapping these keys to each other or speaking with the voice or writing in a journal to nothing or praying to whatever G-d(s) you pray to...giving voice to your grief helps.