Thursday, June 4, 2009


I just read this on Dana's Blog and wanted to share.

This is our new "normal":

Normal is having tears behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in you're family' life.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentines day, July 4th and Easter.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party.....yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.

Normal is feeling you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming because you just don't like to sit through anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what ifs and why didn't I? go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.

Normal is having the t.v. on the minute I walk into the house, because the silencing is deafening.

Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity and then seeing the horror in someones eyes at how awful it sounds and yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and his birthday and survive these days, and trying to find the balloon of flag that fits the occasion. Happy birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my baby loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.

Normal is making sure that others remember him.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything to this loss, unless they too have lost a child NOTHING, even if your child is in the remotest part of the Earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someones loved one.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone striken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands, and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God, "God may have done this because......" I love God. I know my baby is up in Heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this Earth is not appreciated and makes no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is avoiding McDonalds and Burger King playgrounds because of small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.

Normal is asking God why he took you child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.And last of all,

Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".

This "normal" is torture.


Rachaellh said...

I am so sorry that your baby died. I came across your blog this evening and just sat in tears reading about your precious Nicholas.

I wanted to write you a note to tell you that I will be praying for you and your family. My daughter died May 31, 2006 and turned my world upside down. Reading through your blog I had so many feelings and thoughts come rushing back from that summer when Madeline died. I am so sorry that you are having to go through this. It is so hard to get a handle around losing a baby. I wish that I had a magic answer to tell you on how to survive losing your precious child. I pray that God will hold you firm in His grasp and that you will feel His presence all around you. I pray for you to have strength and courage to return to the hospital/doctor's office later this month. I remember the first (and only) time that I went back to the doctor after Madeline died and I thought I was going to pass out just from walking in the building. If there is anything that I can do for you, please let me know.

Hope's Mama said...

These are all so true Lea. Thanks for sharing them with us.

Mommy (You can call me OM) said...

So much of this hits home with me. It's so nice to hear that we are not alone in our grief.


margaret said...

Our normal sucks. I hate every fucking minute of this. Hugging you.

still life angie said...

Yes, all of these are so so true. This new normal is torture. Thank you for sharing this. Much love to you.

Shanti Mama said...

Glad I'm not the only one feeling "normal" out there. Thanks for sharing.

Kate said...

This normal is torture for sure. Thank you for sharing Lea. Hugs!!!

Anonymous said...

Yes and I agree, it does fucking suck. xo

Unique Gowns said...

Thank you Lea, for sharing the poem with your readers. It needs to be passed onto as many angel mummies and their families as we can . Loving hugs to all your precious little angels xoxox Dana

Ruth said...

Thank-you so much for sharing this. I feel "normal." It is so helpful to have this blog world of grieving mothers.

Jen said...

I hate the word "normal" and how none of us in dbml will ever feel "normal" again.

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