Sunday, July 28, 2013


You know how they (well, TheBloggess and her fans) say, "Depression Lies." Other things lie, too. A couple of months ago I fell asleep thinking about KittyGirl and Little Unknown, the baby we lost through miscarriage when Jay was 14 months old. And I woke up the next morning depressed as hell and thinking, "Maybe the Universe thinks I am such a crappy parent that I'm just not allowed to have more than one kid at a time."

If you're new, KG died thirteen years ago, five days after the blood test at the doctor's office confirmed that Jay was on the way

Do I really think this?

I want to say no, but the truth is, yea, sometimes I do.

You know why? Because, just like depression, GRIEF LIES.

Do I really think I'm a bad mom? Generally speaking, no. I have a smart, beautiful twelve year old daughter who is compassionate, talented, and the light of my life. When I look at her I am thrilled to realize that I contributed to making her the good person I believe her to be.

Could I be a better mom? *snort* What mom ever thought she couldn't?

Are there concrete things I can do to work toward that goal? Yes, and by finally acknowledging I can't do it all alone and finding a good therapist I AM working on it.

Do I still wonder if the Universe thinks I'm a crappy mom? Yes. Do I think I don't deserve to be happy after losing the first & 3rd precious gifts the universe gave me? Sometimes.

But I know it's a lie, too. Way down deep, and with the help of reading a lot of the Bloggess' posts about depression and the lies our brains tell us, I've learned that the things I think aren't always true.

Sometimes, when the downs are way down and I hate myself for still being here, for not being a better mom, for losing my children, for trying to find some happiness when most of my babies are dead, that knowledge is the only thing that keeps me going. Yes, I feel like hell and am not worthy, but if I can just keep going, keep breathing, I know eventually I will feel better, because these are the lies my grief tells me.


I started this post a few months ago, and decided it was time to finish. KittyGirl's 17th birthday is this week. It's hard, it sucks. How do you imagine what kind of almost-adult a four year old would be now? I can't, so I honor her the only way I know how, by talking about her and, sometimes, about how losing her has changed me.

KittyGirl - 4 months before we lost her.

1 comment:

Candy said...

Damn. You made me cry. Honey, you are an amazing mother. Jay is lucky to have you and vice versa. You are a fabulous friend, a good wife (hey, the men can bite us). You feel it all, honey. Feel it and embrace it and cry about it, but KNOW you are loved.

Something beyond what I can ever, truly, understand. Few people can. I will never pretend to understand, but know I'm here. If you want to talk. If you don't. If you want a distraction. If you want a drink. I love you.

YOU are a great mom. The universe made a terrible mistake. I don't know how you are able to talk about KG so often and with such love and amazement at who she was. I think it's one of your best traits. You've taught me a lot about loss. About what I need to do to be there for you and for others. For that... I'm forever grateful.

YOU ARE A GREAT MOM. My biggest hope is that you truly, deep down and on the surface learn to believe that in the depths of who you are.

I know this time of the year is hard for you. I take your lead every year. Whatever you need, just ask. I'm here for you.