The Looming Holiday Season

It's that time of year again. I am really looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas, which have been two of my favorite holidays since I was a small child.

This is also a very difficult times of year since Luke and I lost our baby girl. For one thing, she was born just a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, and she died on New Years Day. So all the major milestones of her life happen during this holiday season. And secondly, any holiday is difficult for parents who have lost a child, no matter when they were born or when they died.

So, it's time for us to decide how we want to remember her birthday (November 12th). And it's time to face the emotional rollercoaster of the holiday season in general. It is so nice to have extra time to spend with loved ones, but every time we are together as a family, her absence looms large in front of me.

There is a hole in our family where a little Liza Jane should be. She would have been right in between my two sisters' kids ages. I love my niece and nephew, but every time I see them, I cannot avoid the painful thoughts of her.

What helps is when people talk about her, when they acknowledge her absence. One of the fears that comes up when somebody dies is that we will forget them. So when people remember her, it makes such a difference.

And I think that's something that makes us human: we remember people after they are gone. It's a way to honor the preciousness of each and every life.

So as we work our way through the emotional rollercoaster of the holiday season, I hope we can appreciate how precious our loved ones are, both those who are here, and the ones who have gone before us into the next life.

Welcome, guests...

Our society isn't very good at talking about the not-so-sunny side of life. Maybe it's our altruistic American optimism, but I've found that people just don't know how to deal with grief, loss, or suffering very well.

Since I wrote this depressing Christmas entry, I figured I had better explain a bit more just exactly what is going on with this blog. This blog is about the truth of the grief process. It's about feelings that are hard to talk about, so people avoid them, stuff them, put them on the shelf.

This blog is not about a pity party, though, or wanting others to see just how hard my life is. Far from it. There are plenty of people in the world whose circumstances are much worse than mine, I have a lot to be thankful for, and at the top of that list is my husband and family. People who know me, though, would probably say I'm a very private person. I don't tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve, and I tend to have just a few very intimate, close friends, rather than a crowd of casual ones.

So, I am sharing these things at my own risk. And for me, it is a big risk, because I am being vulnerable and "out there" far beyond what makes me comfortable. We left comfortable behind a while ago, folks.

I am putting this out there in cyber land because I know I'm not the only one. You are out there too, and you are feeling the pain of a loss, or suffering, or questions as well. I hope that this will help you to be brave and start a dialogue with others. I hope it will help you to know that you are not alone in what you are feeling as you walk in the valley of the shadow of death. I hope it will help you know it is okay to mention to a casual friend or acquaintance that this week will be hard for you, because it is the anniversary of an important milestone in that precious person's life.

I did just that today - with my hair stylist, someone I have known for over 10 years. (There I go again with only opening up to people I am really intimate with - gotta work on that.) She asked what we were doing over New Years, and I told her we are meeting up with good friends of ours in Las Vegas. She got really excited and told me about when she went there for her 10th anniversary. After a while, I gathered the courage to share a little bit more. We are going there with our friends more specifically because they are concerned about us this coming holiday. You see, January 1, 2010, was the day that our 7 week old baby girl slipped away from us while we held her in our arms, weeping, at the hospital. So our friends wanted to make sure we wouldn't be alone on the holiday and that we would have something to do. Side note: We are not really casino people, but Vegas is a halfway meeting point for all of us, and it just worked out this time.

So this blog is about being real. I'll do my best to share honestly about what it feels like to have lost a child. And I'll probably stray along the way to other subject matter, too. It is my hope, my prayer, that this will help another who is going through the same thing. Because we are all out there, and the more we realize that we are not alone, that we are not going crazy, the more we will be able to heal.