Two years ago today, on April 30th, we buried our daughter. She was born into the world silent and still on March 4th, 2016 but we had to wait for the autopsy and cremation. Then we had to wait a bit longer for the weather to warm so we could break ground at her gravesite and bury the sweet bio-urn we chose to put her ashes in- so that one day flowers could grow there and some form of life would return.
Honestly, I am grateful that we waited. My husband, Jonathan and I took those 8 weeks and poured all of our love, that had no where else to go, into writing her graveside service. (You can read it here: https://lostlullabies.weebly.com/speaking-out/mathildas-graveside-service) I find it strange that April 30th will always hold meaning for me because it wasn’t the day that I lost my daughter, but it was ultimately the day that I started mourning her, and that’s a big deal. I was privately grieving up until that point and at her Graveside Service, I started to let other people in (somewhat) and embraced the idea of allowing my grief to be expressed outwardly. When I think back to those first 8 weeks I am reminded of what a living nightmare it was- I couldn’t wrap my head around the reality that our beloved daughter had died. I would wake up every morning and have to realize it again and again- that was one of the most horrific parts of the early days- waking up thinking it was all a bad dream only to remember (again) that it was my new reality. I am a bereaved mother. I remember having to fight the impulse to rip out my hair- I just needed to find a way to change it- and I couldn’t. I had a lot of magical thinking at that time- I would ponder how I could get her back, how I could save her. What could I have done differently? Why did this happen to us? I wanted to implode in on myself. I wanted to self-destruct. My husband was by my side the whole time and we had some incredible support from our mothers and close family, but it was hard to keep our heads above water. On April 30th we saw friends and extended family- people surprised us by being there at Mathilda’s grave with us. That is the day I got to share my pain and sadness simply by being with others. It was a hard day- I didn’t want to get up, I didn’t want it to happen. I resented having to go buy a dress that would fit my postpartum and grief-stricken body for my daughter’s funeral- I didn’t want to leave the house, but looking back I can see how important that day was for me. There is something to be said for ritual and that gave us some comfort. The people who came to our Graveside Service for Tillie are forever cemented in my heart- I will never forget the love they showed just by being present. They all gathered at that small, old cemetery on a wooded hill, stood by our sides and validated Mathilda’s life by simply bearing witness. Since that first day of public mourning I have found a voice in speaking out to help shatter the silence of stillbirth. I have slowly built the strength to try and remove some of the stigma around pregnancy and infant loss by taking about Tillie. As much as I dreaded this day two years ago, I now wish I could have a graveside gathering for her every year! My husband and I visit her grave often and we have some family and even friends who go to visit our sweet Tillie from time to time. We keep a small portion of her ashes at home with us and around our necks in necklace urns, but it is really nice to have a physical location, out in the peace of nature, where we can visit her too. So while today isn’t the day we found out we were pregnant (June 25th) or her due date (February 29th) or her birthday (March 4th) it feels like an important date to recognize. It is a milestone for sure and a good day to reflect on all we’ve been through and just how far we’ve come on this path. I’ve said it before and I will continue to say it- the weight of her death is still just as heavy, we’ve simply gotten better at carrying it. Here’s to you, Tillie. Maybe this will be the year that the flowers from your bio-urn will begin to sprout.
1 Comment
Jenn
5/1/2018 09:37:05 am
Thanks for being so honest on this journey Darcie. You are an amazing mother and the perspective you have is wonderful and unique and heartfelt and vulnerable. Sending you virtual hugs - I think of you and Mathilda all time.
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
Darcie & JonathanLovebirds in Loss. Archives
April 2018
Categories |