How I Grieve

If you read Blogging4Jobs, you probably saw my post on Mourning Those You Never Knew. Yes, I miscarried my baby. If I could go back in time, I would not have told people so early about my pregnancy. It’s a weird conversation to have with friends, strangers and clients about my personal loss, health and grief. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the overwhelming support and warm thoughts that people are giving me. Flowers are being delivered non stop and I have friends and family who are making sure that my family and I are okay. But with such transparency and honesty about my life, it opens up the door to unsolicited advice. People are giving me all kinds of unsolicited advice telling me that I should name the baby, plant a tree and take two weeks off. I’m being judged if I don’t take off time enough work or if I’m working when I should be resting. I’m not someone who slows down. I’m always busy. It’s just me. The problem is that I work for myself and there is no paid vacation time for this lady. I do not qualify for FMLA. There is no paid bereavement leave.

A number of people were worried that I was working too hard. That I’m writing, consulting or working on projects this week when I should be laying around crying being miserable. If I don’t take a break,  I will pay for it later. Well, that’s not me.

Don’t get me wrong. I am taking it easier. Working on less things. Rescheduling calls and putting off meetings for another time, place or week, but I’m not going to keep from being me.

This loss is the hands down worst experience of my life. My husband and I created a child and it is has been taken away. While I am thankful for the short time that this baby was in my life, I know that I will be okay. I am a survivor literally. My husband, Greg and my daughter are the miracles in my life. They remind me every day what living, loving and waiting can be like. It’s going to be okay.

I grieve through words. I grieve through my work. I grieve through the hugs and kisses I give my family. I grieve through expression and conversation. I grieve by writing about what matters to me. It is my therapy and without it I would have never been able to move on from 7 years of shit that I survived leading me to a wonderful place and a successful life and marriage with a wonderful family.

So to the judgers, the faint advice givers. I am not you. You are not me, and that’s okay. Let me grieve, live and learn in my own way.

 

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