Happiness..... hard won

Looking at the picture in my last post, I know the smile on Juliet's face truly is a reflection of the smile on my own at this point in time. Three and a half years on, plus change, I certainly am happy and what's more, I feel comfortable saying that, unencumbered by the grief. I've been unshackled by the guilt about feeling good and I don't just feel happy, I feel free.

It has taken me a long time to get to this point, and the battles have been hard won. Still, it is not all black and white but life rarely is. The happiness does not negate the lingering sadness. But because of that undergrowth of loss and devastation, the happiness can be felt more keenly. I really do think you can only know this type of happiness if you have known such crushing sadness. This certainly is no bullshit charade of happiness. This happiness is real and has been well earned.

Motherhood changed me, that is a fact. But I think it is too simplistic to think, as some have suggested to me since Hope died, it was just becoming a mother that changed me. While Hope did of course make me a mother, her death set off a chain of events in my life that I know without a shadow of a doubt would not have been replicated had she lived. Life does not look anything like I thought it would this time four years ago and at this point in my life, I am finally ok with that. I want her back, I miss her, I wish she didn't die but right now, life is very good and I can't deny that or wallow in the pain anymore. And more than anything, I'm beyond grateful for the people I have around right now to witness all of this.

There were many people around me, friends I guess you might say, who watched my life catastrophically fall apart in the latter half of 2008 and early 2009. I was totally and utterly broken, every piece of me rattled by her loss. I was dismantled as a human being and I had no idea how to put myself back together again. I thought I might die from my sadness. Putting one foot in front of the other seemed an impossible task, but it was all that was left to do. But through the rest of 2009, the entire time I was falling apart, I was also desperately trying to hold myself together, because that was the time I gestated with Angus and I owed it to him, my precious baby son, to not completely lose a grip on things. Without doubt, that was the hardest time in my life, losing Hope and living without her aside. I didn't have any choice, I just had to get through it. And I did. It wasn't always easy, and it is not a time I look back fondly on, but I did the best I could. Then I battled the weary, sleep deprived first days, weeks and months of his life, before rather quickly finding myself pregnant again, just a few weeks after he turned one. Just when I thought everything was going well there, we found out about the virus that threatened complicate, and totally derail Juliet's pregnancy which just might have ruined me for good, had those worst fears become a reality. But we came through it, and she is ok. We are ok. It has been a huge few years for my family, to say the least. And through all of this, I think I have managed pretty well, if I do say so myself. I've had moments of completely wanting to check the fuck out of this life, but I've somehow come through every obstacle thrown my way, all the while still getting up every single morning and living and breathing while one of my children does not. I have had an awful hand dealt to me. I lost my precious first born baby. She was brand new and perfect. So new, she hadn't even been born yet and the scars are etched deep on my heart and some, I think, are clearly visible on the outside as well, as evidenced by some extra creases and crinkles on my face and shadows under my eyes.

Many of those friends have fallen away over these past few years. I was thinking recently it might be an interesting social experiment to collect all of the untruths said and written about me by those friends, the ones who judged me most harshly and who couldn't and didn't stick by me through the very worst of times, and have a read through them all. But really, what would be the point? Those people aren't in my life anymore, and they aren't in it for a reason. Whatever they said about me or thought about me doesn't matter, because they don't matter to me, even though they once did. They don't get the grief, they don't get me and I am finally ok with that.

So now, here I am. At a place many wanted me to be, well before my time. Well before I was ready. And shit, it has only been three and a half years since Hope died, so I think I got here pretty quickly, even if others think I dragged my heels. It sure feels to me as if it has gone quickly. Three and a half years can sometimes seems like such an impossibly long time, yet in the scheme of the rest of my life, it is no time at all. She would still be my baby. She will always be my baby.

The the people who left my life have had their places filled by people more genuine and kind, more patient and more willing to abide. People who listen, people who seem to genuinely care. People who know that while I did fall apart, I slowly but surely put myself back together, as best as I could, knowing I would always have a Hope-sized void in my life and in my heart, much bigger than the eight pounds she embodied.

There are good times in this life and there are bad times. Some days the bad times feel that much harder to wade through because of the loss I've endured and the good times feel as if they will forever be tinged with bitterness because someone will always be missing. But in many ways, the bad times are easier to manage because Hope gifted me the benefit of perspective and the good times feel like winning the lottery ten times over because I know how much worse things can be because I've been there. But finally, I'm on the other side of it all. I look back with sadness and longing, but I look forward with hope and promise and I'm excited to see what is ahead for me and my little family I've worked so hard to build. And those who are no longer along for this ride, be damned. That's your loss, not mine.