Viva la Difference

I had coffee with a friend of mine yesterday. She is one of those friends who you know for years, who you maybe only speak to once or twice a year but you stay friends with.

About two months ago I got an email from her that gave me such a chill down my spine. The email said something like “Our son Ben was born 3 months early, and after fighting bravely for 10 days in NICU, the fight became too much for him and he died on the xxx …..”.

When I read the words I went cold, I could not process what she was saying. I thought it was an email I had sent to her that she had somehow sent back to me by mistake. It was like very bad déjà vu.

And then I read it again, and I realized that this poor woman had gone through exactly the same thing as I had, just four months later. Our stories are eerily the same, both Ben, both living for 10 days. Both dying in our arms.

We met for coffee yesterday and spoke. And spoke. Her grief is a lot fresher than mine, but I could relate to every single thing she was saying. I can’t tell you how good it felt to speak to some one who had been through what I had been through, not that I would wish this on any one.

Once I left her so many of the memories came flooding back, memories that I have been suppressing. The day you hear the news that your child is dying. The incredible highs and lows of the NICU stay. The birth. As I said to her, when you look back now, you can’t actually believe you went through that all, that you came out of it (semi) sane. It was the most hectic, desperate, awful time of my life. I have not stopped thinking about my little boy for the last 24 hours. And that’s ok. Because I don’t ever want to forget him. Even if the memories are sometime painful.

But what was especially poignant for me was the stark difference in how we grieved. As mentioned previously, grieving is a process, and pretty well most of us will go through the different grieving phases. But I think she handled it better. She surrounded herself with family and friends, she had her family come stay over, she got together with her friends, she had people all around her. She said her friends and family were a huge support to her, and she grieved with them and in front of them.

I was totally different. I retreated so far into my cave that no one could find me. I couldn’t be around any one, and I grieved alone. I was too scared to be let people see how raw I was. I felt like I had no skin. I even grieved out of sight from my husband. I don’t know why I am like that. I have a very loving family who are different to me. They are not scared to be open with their emotions. I also have amazing, supportive friends.

After speaking to my friend I initially felt bad, as if I had somehow missed out. That perhaps I didn’t have friends like she has. But then I realized that it was not my friends’ fault, or any of my family. That is just how I am. I am a cave dweller through and through. And that is how I get stronger, by being by myself until I feel stronger.

And that’s ok. Viva la difference! Thank god we are all different. It would be terribly boring if we were all the same.

We each need to do what works for us.

** A special moment of love sent to both little Ben’s, your mommies miss you, our special little boys. **

Comments

[Karen]

Wow. That's so weird--that the two of you shared so much--and so sad. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you went though and still go through, Tertia.

My husband's best friend had a baby that was in NICU for a looooonnnng time. We call them, but they don't return our calls. I think it's because they're overwhelmed (the baby is home now, and as far as we know, recovering slowly). They know what we're going through, and they are so sad for us--perhaps it's just too much sadness for them to deal with overall.

Lurve you, Tertia. You are such an inspiration.

[Blue]

When you mentioned people greiving differently I thought of my parents after my brother died. I think they did what they needed to do for themselves and it wasn't good for each other. I think that is why their marriage failed in the end, they had each changed from the experience and grown apart instead of closer together. It took me a long time to realize that all of that was related (I was only a pre-schooler when all of this happened) but I think now that they did what they had to do to survive it with the sanity of which you spoke.
I'm so sorry for you and your friend but how amazing it is that you were able to find each other to share your memories and re-grouping.

[Julia]

Tersh, perhaps your cave-dwelling is also partially an attempt to sheild your loved ones and friends from your grief. It took me a long time (over a year) to realize that I was pulling an "I'm okay, you're okay" for everyone else's benefit - not just my own. The trouble was, it wasn't benefiting anyone. I eventually had to make a concious effort to show my grief whenever it happened and let people (especially my husband and parents) know that sometimes I'm not okay. Because we're human. And losing a child is never okay.

I'm glad that this common experience will at least allow you someone to commiserate with in the future, though I wish neither of you had gone through it.

You're a beautiful testament to survival, no matter how you've done it, and I take my hat off to you.

[getupgrrl]

To me, you are a simply amazing woman.

[Jessica]

We will never forget your son either. My deepest sympathies to your friend too.

[Kristine]

That is an amazing coincidence. And although I'm sure it was painful, perhaps it was a bit therapuetic too.
I cannot begin to imagine going through what you've been through-- you are a fantastically amazing cave woman.

[Stephanie]

How incredibly eery and tragic. I am so sorry that you both had to go through such devistating events, but atleast you can both turn to each other in your time of grief.

[Bee]

Once again u have rendered me tearful and speechless... oh ok not completely else I wouldn't be commenting. But I am always in awe of you and what you have gone through and come out of! You are amazing Tersh and I am proud to call you my friend. Much love and strength coming your way from me.