It was also a time of awakening and realization, for all who were there. We were a small, intimate group able to bond in every way, and - yes - share our losses, experiences, and desires.
I went with a game plan.
Learn about running a support group.
Learn more about different kinds of losses and how to best support them.
Learn about effective communication (read: how to break down the doors of) the hospital.
Here is what I learned:
- The fear of my Rainbow Baby pregnancy is still with me. It never left. It has morphed into fear, anxiety, and uncertainty that I can raise two healthy, happy, well-adusted, compassionate, can-survive-in-this-crazy-world-even-knowing-they-have-a-sister-who-died girls. (I'm attacking this next - be assured)
- I am still angry, bitter - no, devestated that no-one was there in my hospital room after the "diagnosis of death" but before the delivery to guide me, offer choices for memoralizing my Emma. I wish Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep had been called. I wish a camera had been present - period. I wish...I wish... (Doing this for other people repeteadly will take this from me - I know.)
This post is not a pity party. No, I would never use this forum for that. It is an affirmation of my continued grief and love for my baby girl. It is a way I can demonstrate that assimilation of my loss, does not mean that I have accepted it. I will never accept this. Never.
I will, however, use these grief emotions to further our cause. To reach out to more families. To deliver more memory boxes. To offer more choices. To call in more (and better) resources.
Share Southern Vermont is in a better place after this last weekend. Yes, I learned the nitty-gritty stuff about paperwork, support groups and hospital policies - but I learned something more valuable.
Checklists and achieved goals will not make this corporation thrive. My heart, and all its emotions: anger, bitterness, frustration, hope, joy, and rememberance will.
Thanks to all of you who believe. I do.