Pregnant and grieving

I'm pregnant!

I haven't blogged as much in the last few months, partly because I felt like I couldn't be honest without spilling the beans that I am pregnant. Yes, it's true. Most blog readers probably already heard, but I never really know who reads it. I'm twelve weeks, so the risk of miscarriage has dramatically declined, but it's still too early to see about other birth defects.

It is what we wanted; it is what Lev would have wanted. Jaal seems happy about it, and I am quite glad that it has worked out so far.

But, I didn't know what it would do to my grief. Would adding something positive make it a bit better, a bit more hope for the future? Unfortunately not yet. Pregnancy is just potential, discomfort and potential. Later on, when it is more certain I may feel differently. I know that when this baby comes it will be brought into a family full of love for the child. I know it will bring joy, fullness, and chaos back into our home. It will give us another reason to keep on living. It will give Jaal the experience of being an uncle, a really close uncle who hopefully likes to change diapers. It will give me a little body to hug and absorb myself with. It will clarify our purpose.

But I realize now that it doesn't change the grief at all. Other grieving parents understand this, but I was even a bit surprised by it myself. I really was truly happy for a day the day I found out. I remember the feeling, but by the next day reality was back and I was just glad it is working out, along with still missing Lev.

This child is not Lev and will not be Lev. They will be their own beautiful person, but it will not bring Lev back.

The other day I imagined having this baby and taking a family photo - Jaal, Tony, myself and the baby. Lev would not be there. This made me cry and cry, and still does.

I read that bottling up grief emotions is worse for your body than letting them out, so I try to let them out frequently instead of becoming overwhelmed.

I know some people will not understand. They will think I should be happy, it's good for the baby, etc. That is a part of the reason I have not been blogging as much. I blog to help people to understand and to clarify and release my emotions, but certain things I know are hard to really empathize with.

As the years go by and we continue to grieve, people may understand less and less. I did not understand it at first myself either, I kept putting a time frame on it - maybe the trauma will get a little better after three months, six months, the first year, etc. Then I heard from many people that the second year was worse, and you really need to give yourself five years at least to figure out what you are doing with your life as this new grieving person.  I spoke to a mom whose son died and she said she was finally happy and feeling good again. And, it was only 17 years later. It is still with her, but she found a way to really be happy. I know I am not ready to say goodbye, I am fine keeping this grief with me forever, as it keeps me close to Lev. It is who I am now, and I think I can still be a good mom and continue living my life while holding on to the grief. I have no other choice.

When I was eight days pregnant, before I knew for sure, I had a dream. It was probably the day that pregnancy hormones started kicking in, so my body knew. In this dream I had a baby, and it was about three months old. It was laying on the bed and looking at me and it started talking. I couldn't believe it, talking so early. I realized it was obviously Lev reincarnated, as there could be no other explanation. I said to it, "Lev, your back, it's your mom. I'm so glad your back," and I was filled with joy, flooding my body. I leaned down to pick the baby up, so excited. But it smiled at me and shook it's head. I said, "you're not Lev?" and it shook it's head, pointed to it's chest, and said "Zack!" I understood at that moment. This baby would not be Lev. It would be Zack, its own person, and that would be okay and it would bring joy. I felt a sensation of peace and understanding flow through me and I woke up, pretty sure I was pregnant with a child named Zack.  What could that be short for? Girl's name or boy?

Sometimes I try to get that feeling of peace back, but it is so fleeting. At that moment of peace I understand life. I understand that we all have our lifetimes, we may all suffer, and we can all try to find peace. Lev had a very short life, but we all have an end. I will die at some point and I will be ready. We will all die, and we just make the best of each day, as we really have very little control of our lives. That's when I go and eat some pudding and stare at the sky, understanding my place in it.

Coming home

We came back from a nice weekend in Oregon at some gigs and visiting Jaal, but Lev is still gone upon arrival home.

I lit a candle on his altar, rubbed his picture, but there's nothing else to do.

Lately I can't get out of bed in the morning without a little cry.

Rebecca