forgotten tears, by nina bennett

so, i finally picked up the book i ordered a couple of months ago. "forgotten tears" is a grandmother's journey through grief following the stillbirth of her granddaughter. i found myself intentionally skipping pages that were too painful to read - feeling the familiar lump in my throat and knot in my stomach i just pushed everything back down to where it has been for the last few weeks. i don't even have words any more. i am still fighting it. i still want my daughter back. i know she will never be the same. i know there will always be something/someone missing in our family. i want to be already down the road. far away from this spot we're muddling through.

excerpts:

"as a healthcare professional, stages of grief were someting concrete i could describe to people dealing with the death of a loved one. yet, when i was faced with the death of my granddaughter, i didn't feel as though the stages had much relevance to what i was experiencing. how could i possible resolve the loss of my granddaughter? how could i "move on"? the fact that maddy had not survived delivery is unacceptable. "

"Our own pain threatens to overwhelm us, but to see OUR children in so much pain is, in many cases, more than we can bear. this adds another layer of complicated emotions for grandparents. we want to be able to help our children in any way possible, and yet we have other responsibilities. we are pulled in many different directions. we need to return to work for financial reasons as well as limitations on time off; yet, we want to be available to our child. we need to grieve our loss, yet we feel as though we must hold it together and appear strong in front of our children. we want to spend every minute with our bereaved child, yet we have other family members who also need us. our hearts break at the sight of our children's anguish and we long to help them. at the same time, we are also experiencing what feels like unbearable pain, and we need to find our way through our own grief. as tempting as it is to deny what we are feeling, we cannot put our grief aside while we help our child. it sounds contradictory to say that we need to do our own grieving simultaneously while doing whatever we can to provie comfort for our child, but that is precisely the complexity of being a bereaved grandparent."

"I am powerless, i am helpless, i am frustrated, i sit here and cry with her. she cries for her daughter and i cry for mine. i CANNOT help her. i can't reach inside and take her broken heart. i must watch her suffer day after day and see her desolation. where is my power now? where is my mother's bag of tricks that will make it all better? where are the answers. i should have them. i'm a mother."

"There are times when i looked into my daughter's lost dark eyes and thought i would never see the face of my real daughter again. that is what cut my heart to ribbons even more than losing my grandchild - the thought that i had lost my daughter as well."

"what i didn't expect was that i would still be crying several months after maddy died."

"sudden, unanticipated death casts an overlying layer of trauma on the loss. the person's emotional responses are intensified; he or she may even exhibit symptoms of posttraumatic shock. the suddenness and lack of anticipation of the death overwhelm the mourner, leaving little resources for coping. "

and words like these, written by a grieving grandmother, words i could have written myself, i race over in an effort to control wracking sobs:

"maddy (sydney grace) will always be a part of me. she will never be forgotten. every breeze that touches my cheek will be my granddaughter whispering secrets. every fluffy cloud that floats across the sky is a kiss i am sending her. i will see her in every soft sunrise and brilliant sunset. and when i'm in colorado and feel a snowflake on my face, i know that maddy (sydney grace) will be telling me its time to stop crying. maddy (sydney grace), i loved you from the moment i knew you existed and i will always love you."

i still cry in church every single sunday morning. i can't help it. usually it is when i am singing that God cares about me, is wonderful to me, is my Strength. funny, that when i sing of all those things He is to me and is for me, that is when i cannot control the tears. and it lurks beneath hillarys and funny bloggers and broken trees on houses and all the other stuff i vomit to keep my sadness from becoming who i am.

this is all just so dang hard.

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