Friday, October 09, 2015

About the Inner Child, The Lost Child and the Child Who Lost His Way

- “Mummy, you have 3 kids: me, G and Daddy!”
I love the way she said it, with that cute little crinkled nose and a big mischievous grin on her face. She doesn't know it. But she is right. Not only about Daddy's lovely, warm nature, who loves nothing more than playing with his little ones. No matter how tired he is, his inner child comes out, and he invents the most delightful games to keep them engaged and entertained.

I do have three children. I just didn't get to meet one.  It is just a small detail and it doesn't make him or her less important. There is no day that I won't think - even if only for a few seconds about how life would have been, together with all our children. Trying to give him or her a face. My inner child desperately longing to connect with the lost one.
I never really had a chance to grieve properly, as it happened very fast and we only found out about it too late. And - after a miscarriage (especially a very early one) - there are no worst words that a mother can hear than "it wasn't yet a child, yet, you know? It wasn't a real child yet". To me, it was.
A grain of life has chosen to take shelter within me for a fleeting moment and then it went away.

That is a reality that many women confront nowadays  -some, more than once, unfortunately. The worst part is that it happens mirrored by silence; most dialogues are muted. It all becomes a heartbreaking monologue, made out of rhetoric questions and dreams that didn't hold their promise.
Back in the day, I didn't really understand why people avoid taking about it. But recently, on couple of occasions I found myself on the other side, with not too many wise words to console fellow mothers who needed sympathy and understanding at a very trying time. I remember being horrified by the thought that I might have become insensitive to someone else's grief. But then I realized it wasn't that. No one is deliberately insensitive in such moments. It's just hard finding the right words at the right time and I tend to put my foot in my mouth most  always, without meaning to do so.
And maybe if we as a society start taking down the walls and actually talk about the things that really matter to us - good and bad, happy or sad, maybe solitude and isolation won't hurt so much. It's actually baffling to me, how on these times of high technological progress, where we can reach easier to each other  - even across continents - we still end up alone and isolated when we need the support most. Sometimes it's also a process of self-containment; we keep to ourselves and take the time to process the events and how to deal with it. We are all unique individuals and see life through different glasses. What works for me won't necessarily be good for you. Or the other way around. But it's very important to remember that one is never alone and one never has to do it on their own.  Luckily, there are some wonderful grieving support groups out there who will know how to guide you. And if you don't feel like joining one, remember you are part of an unspoken sisterhood. Every one of us, having been in those shoes, will understand how you feel, no matter how clumsy we might get when words escape us. "I understand" are two simple words but together they form a very strong sentence, which said at the right time, may mean the world to someone.
October is SIDS, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month and usually around this time of year I get a bit melancholic, thinking of my lost little one. But I am also grateful for the happiness I get every single day, from the two special little people in my life.
And I am also starting to understand other types of grief and loss. Like when you lose a child to a concept/idea/religion without physically loosing that child. Seeing their choices ruining their life before it even started. Or when that child pays the ultimate price in order to carry on a plan that wasn't his in the first place. I cannot even fathom what a mother might feel in those moments. But because it happened in October, I will briefly talk about it.
15 is an age when great ideas take flight, when the inner child is still very much there, getting ready for conquering ideals and laying up plans for the future. 15 is an age of insecurities about dating and about exams, not an age when one should carry a gun and actively going out there to take out lives.
As a mother, my heart goes out to his mother. Not judging her. Just giving her a virtual hug, at her darkest hour.

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