Infant Loss & Grieving

Fake It Until You Make It

healing / February 15, 2016 /

I hear people using this phrase: “fake it until you make it”.  I’ve always heard it from actors and musicians.  I never thought I would turn into a “fake it until you make it” sort of person.  But this has been my life since Ryan left this earth.  I learned quickly about the “mask”.  I put my mask on religiously every morning before stepping out of bed- when it comes off is a different story.  I would like to think I can wait until the end of my work day to take it off, but I simply don’t seem to have as much control of the removal of my mask.

People love me.  I know people love me.  But my pain and suffering hurts them- and I don’t want anyone to hurt anymore because of my accounts.  That’s were this mask comes in.  I can fool people into thinking I am doing just fine when I wear my mask.  I remember people telling me that they were worried about me, but then a few weeks later saying that I am doing much better.  Are you serious!?  I think people were saying these things to make themselves feel better.  It always makes me angry when people said they were worried about me!  What was I doing that made you so worried?  I got out of bed; I took showers; I put some makeup on; and I made it to work majority of the days.  I was living… I am living.

I find myself always going back and repeating in my head “don’t judge my path if you haven’t walked my journey”.  No one knows how they are going to handle a life ending loss such as losing a child.   Because that’s what losing a baby is.. It is life ending.  I will never be the same person I was.  People may think they know… but they have no idea.  I thought I would die.  I thought I would crawl into my bed and never get out.

But something special happened.  The first morning I had to live without my son, eyes black and blue and swollen from all the tears shed the day before, I got up.  I got in the shower.  I GOT UP!  I didn’t stay in bed.  I didn’t die.  I was very much alive.  My crazy heart refused to let me in the hole.  The deep, black hole I so desperately wanted to stay in.  But morning after morning, I got up; I took a shower.  As the weeks went on I added more to my routine.  I got up, I took a shower, I ate some breakfast, I went for a walk with my dog… I even ventured out to visit my best friend.

For a moment there I thought I was really going to be okay.  And just when I start feeling- well, anything but terrible, the waive of grief comes crashing down over top of me again.  I stayed in bed for the whole weekend.  I let myself rest.  I let myself feel the sadness, the heartache, the physical pain of losing my baby.  I didn’t want to fight the grief, because it just strengthened my love for my baby.  If I didn’t love him so much, this wouldn’t hurt so bad.

I get mad at my husband.  He has good days, great days even.  I am happy for him.  I wanted him to be happy.

 I am barely living each day.  I barely get “okay” days, let alone great days.  I still have not had a good day since Ryan’s been gone.  I have days with good moments in them, but I would never consider them good days.  I experience moments of happiness, but there is always an undertone of sadness.  I continue to fake it.  And sometimes I fool myself and I am thankful for those days.