We lost our baby girl James this past April and sometimes I feel like I have aged 30 years in the past 7 months. I’m just so exhausted both physically and emotionally. The grief has made me into a person I don’t even recognize. Maybe it’s the holidays, but in some ways I feel like things have gotten even harder as time goes on. Almost as if the expectation is that I should now be okay or “back to myself.” Just needed to vent. I’m so grateful for this community of people who understand.

I also feel like it's getting harder at times. I don't think we can "be back to ourselves" ever really, and especially not 7 months after. Though everyone around me also seems to think that I should move on.
Sending you a hug, my friend.

Dear Meg,
you are absolutely right. It feels the same to me.
The one thing I learned in the past two years: it does get harder and then it will get a liitle less hard again. Da capo al fine. And I will never know beforehand.
It never is not hard. Nor will it ever be, I suppose. But the management of grief (if this makes any sense in English) does get better.

I’ve gotten used to the wave-like nature of the grief but I am finding it particularly hard to come up for air the past few weeks.

I still sometimes check in here after more than six years. Meg, Devorah, ... and L, too, please know that even though it sometimes seems like a lifetime, 7 months is still very close to the loss. It might be less time than your babies spent inside you. Acute grief, in strong waves, is completely normal for a year or two. You've had all those months to bond, and the bonding does not stop when they die. The relationship goes on inside you, it evolves, and it takes time to get used to the reality that they are no longer with us... especially around the holidays. For many people the third and fourth years are when life slowly eases back into a comfortable new normal, when most days you feel like yourself again. The best you can do right now is to give the grief its space. It will let life grow around it when it is ready. There is too much life inside that grief for it to let you go that easily. But it will. Or you will learn how to make it your amicable companion. It just takes time.

"There is too much LOVE inside that grief", I meant.

Dear Ana,
thank you for opening the perspective to a bigger time frame. This is why I came here two years ago: to hear from others about this life that was ahead of me. To hear if it was even possible.
Thank you for reassuring us.
All the best to you, Mama.

Thank you all. These past few weeks have felt so unbearable and being able to come here, to a place where people understand offers a great deal of comfort.

Meg -- I FEEL THIS! I'm nearly six months out from losing my son Charlie,. Time is such a funny thing. In many ways, it still feels raw and recent. In others, I, like you, feel like I've gained years on my life. It's been difficult trying to 'adjust' back to normal life -- work, social functions, etc. It's hard not to have a completed jaded perspective on the world after experiencing trauma like ours. I find myself angry and resentful of others who have the LUXURY of going about their lives in a carefree way, without the constant reminder of the cruelness that is baby loss.

I long for the days that the grief and pain isn't so acute, yet I also am fearful of moving on because I know the memories won't be as fresh. Being further away from my grief also means more time has passed since I saw Charlie, held him, etc. And like you said, more pressure to feel like I have to be 'okay' or back to myself.

I read something recently that I think captures the feeling of grieving a child: "Every birthday, every holiday, every family photo, every milestone, weddings that will never happen, grandchildren that will never be born; it alters an entire lifetime. Another generation of our family gone. This is why we are in so much pain. This is why we don't 'get over it'. This is why we grieve forever. This grief has a ripple effect that lasts forever. This is why we're surviving. We life in spite of all the what ifs, could haves and should bes. [...]"

Charlie's Mom- Thank you for your thoughtful post. I've really enjoyed hearing from you these past few weeks on different threads. How are you holding up?

I was on an OK wave for the past week or so, but this week has been difficult. My workplace is transitioning back to in-office. The anxiety is multi-layered, right? Even if I didn't have this huge, heavy, grief, going back to being around people 24/7, commuting, etc etc would be overwhelming. A transition. On top of that, I hadn't realized how nice it has been to be able to grieve privately, at home. It's really become my safe space. If something triggers me on a call, I turn my video off. No one can see my pain. I've found that introducing myself in a group setting is really challenging. My whole identify feels ... complex? Yesterday, we had a full day of professional development. The day started, of course, with a series of ice breakers and get to know you questions. Things like, "Tell us about your family," and "What are three things you want the group to know about you?" Naturally, Charlie and the surrounding tragedy is ALL I could think of. Three things you might now know about me? 1) My son's name was Charlie 2) He had dark, curly hair 3) Instead of bringing him home, I was asked if I wanted to donate his organs. I can't help but imagine the looks on my coworker's faces had I said that. Instead, I left the room, eventually went back in and made it through the rest of the day, barely. One of those days when you feel like you're just BARELY hanging on -- if someone so much as gives me a look of sympathy, I'd spill over. But I did it. I made it through. And I can't help but wonder what my colleagues thought after having spent a day together. My pain was visible, tried as I might to conceal it and put on a smile. When everyone's talking about families and children, do they realize how difficult it must be for me? Maybe. Maybe not.

Charlie would have been six months last Saturday, the 2nd. I hadn't realized it at first, until my husband came home with flowers for his (half) birthday. It was sweet. Several friends also reached out recognizing the milestone, and it was nice to know others were thinking of him, too. I managed the day relatively well. It was difficult, of course, but I managed. Six months is a fun age. I remember so vividly when my nieces, nephew, and friends' children turned that age; you can really start to see their personalities shine and their looks. It pains me that we'll never know those things about Charlie.

Did you have any plans for James' upcoming birthday?

Charlie’s Mom, I am having a hell of a time at work. It’s been less than a week since I lost my baby at 15w3d. My manager and peers are all parents, the 3 peers all younger than me with 2-3 kids each. Every week we have a team meeting and everyone talks about their kids. Nobody knew I was pregnant, so I am suffering in silence, smiling like I care what they have to say when I don’t want to hear anything about kids. I’m lucky I’m still working remotely so I can also the camera off if needed. This is going to be a tough year, when all I was thinking about was maternity leave in December. Now I feel stuck like I’m never going to get out of this cycle of work prioritized over life. Well no more… kids or not, I won’t let work be the priority over my health.