November 28, 2010
My dad was here a few weeks ago for a short visit. We put him to work while he was here, helping us with a home improvement project. We worked hard, but had fun together as we completed the project. That evening, I made a barley bean soup and homemade bread for dinner. After dinner we sat in front of the fire and talked. We were all so tired. The crackling of the fire filled the sleepy silence. Jeremy dozed off on the couch. It was one of those moments that I was aware of Harper's absence and tears started to fall. I didn't want them to. I didn't want to be sad, but I miss her, especially when I'm around family. My dad loves his grandchildren, and I felt sad that my daughter was not one that I get to see bring him that joy.
As quickly as the tears started, they stopped, because a thought crossed my mind: This grief right now, this sadness? It's you feeling sorry for yourself, for what you don't have and what you can't give to your dad.
It's true. Grieving is really a selfish process. I'm not saying it's not natural. It absolutely is. And what does that say about us as humans that such a natural process is so focused on one's own self? I believe we were made that way. Yes, I'm sad for how Harper's loss has effected my family members and friends too, but if I'm being honest, the hardest part is about what's missing in my life. Maybe that's why grieiving is so hard for me sometimes too - because I think one of my core beliefs is that selfishness is wrong. So by allowing myself to grieve I'm having to do something dimatrically opposed to one of my core beliefs.
There's a balance in there somewhere too - knowing when my focus on my own loss has been enough already. It's just been really hard for me to know what's okay and what's not as a result. And I don't mean according to other people either. It's been hard for me to know just for myself what's okay. I don't know if any of this is making sense or not. I know I spend a lot of time on this blog sorting through all of this. Really, this is the first time I've ever personally grieved. It's funny, I used to think that because I have experienced episodes of major depression that I understood grief, but they are not the same. Definitely not the same. Anyway . . .
I got my haircut this weekend. I go to the Aveda Institute because it's so inexpensive and I have a really hard time spending money on things that are appearance related. (It's one of my hang-ups.) I always get tense when I get my hair cut, for two reasons really. The first is the most obvious, that inevitable question from the stylist: "So, do you have kids?" I prepare mentally for my response. What's it gonna be this time Abby? Yes, but not living? No? That's a tough one to answer? Fortunately, the young woman cutting my hair was very focused on my hair, so conversation was minimal, and that was fine by me.
The other reason haircuts are hard for me is because of my hair. I had stick straight hair my entire life, until, that is, pregnancy. Sometime during my pregnancy, the hair on the back of my head began to curl. At one point it was super curly, but has now tamed down to a crazy waviness. Hairstylists always comment on it and it's hard for me not to go into my explanation, which of course makes me think of Harper. I didn't say anything yesterday, but as the stylist commented and said she was going to blow dry out the curls, I thought, Oh don't get rid of the curl! It's one of my physical reminders of her. One that I sort of want to hold on to. One that proves that she was here and she still affects me physically.
We hold on to the funniest things, don't we?
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Me again, your anonymous j-pouch comment poster. :-) It probably wasn't pregnancy that curled your hair but rather the steroids. It's very, very common amongst us that were on steroids to have it change our straight hair to curly. I asked my doctor about it once and he went into a long explanation that had something to do with it changing the shape of the follicle but I don't remember the rest. It also happens to chemo patients who lose their hair only to have it grow in totally different than it was before -- again, the meds causing a change in the shape of the follicle which influences how our hair grows.
ReplyDeleteI typed a big long thing about mourning, but erased it because my words weren't sounding like I wanted them to sound. But don't feel that you have to apologize for still mourning Harper. You don't need to.