Throughout my grief journey I have been making baby steps toward recovery, acceptance, and healing. At first I wouldn't get out of bed and barely ate... Then after a few days I started interacting with the family that filled our house and spent more time out of bed than in it.
Then I started to venture outside of the house. Mostly to complete details for Leila's funeral. As the weeks went by I started doing a little more, started eating again, started talking to people without crying at the drop of a hat, I even started talking about Leila in a happy reflective way.
I was making baby steps toward healing.
Then a week or so ago I started slipping backwards again. I felt stuck. I just couldn't move forward.
I think I was scared.
Scared that moving forward means letting go of Leila forever.
Sometimes I feel like everyone that once knew her has already forgotten and moved on and that they expect me to as well. I feel like it is up to me to keep her memory alive and that when I do finally move forward, she will be gone forever. I feel this tug of war with my heart and mind happening... And my heart tears in two.
I have been showed such compassion and love from people as we dealt with our loss. I have been told amazing stories of how Leila has touched lives from all over the world. I have watched as my daughter made an impact on the world that so many people wish to make and fail to do.
My daughter is my hero.
My daughter possessed a strength that I pray every day to find.
I want to find the strength to move forward. I want to be happy again. I want to be able to think of her, and write about her, and not cry as I am now.
I want to be able to accept what has happened and move on.
But I think I finally realized that I am holding on to her too tightly. I am so scared that if I let go she will be gone forever, that I have failed to see the bigger picture.
She is everywhere.
In the people she touched, in "Leila's Resolution" that has taken full affect in the state of Illinois, in Leila's Legacy (a charity that provides hand knit and crocheted hats to premature babies), in my son, my husband, and my self. She is there.
And I am so closed off to see it because I can't get past the fact that her body is no longer here.
So I decided to try and remedy that.
If moving forward won't come naturally, I will force myself to take a few more steps.
Some big steps.
Yesterday marked 3 months since my angel got her wings.
3 months.
A lot can happen in 3 months, but to be honest, I don't remember much of the last 3 months because I have been so withdrawn and so focused on my pain.
I don't want to be that anymore.
I finally scheduled my 6 week postpartum appointment (only 2 months late) for yesterday.
And I packed away some of her things.
I didn't get it all done, but a friend and I sat there together and pulled out every piece of clothing and folded them and put them in a space bag...
And then sealed it up.
And in a way, each time we finished one pile of clothes, I felt a little bit lighter.
A few things happened as I went through the piles and piles of clothing:
I had hope for the future, and for future babies.
And I realized that there are beautiful babies all around me that I can enjoy and spoil as I would have spoiled Leila.
Sure it's not the same.
There will never, ever be another Leila.
But I have a lot of love to give.
And I don't want to be sad anymore.
Yesterday was a day of
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