I haven't written for awhile, but this post has been rolling around in my head for awhile. Since I saw my counselor about two weeks ago.
It had been about a month since I had last met with her, and I had lots of updates. One of the biggest things on my mind was how frustrated I had been with myself. With how I was feeling, and how I didn't seem to be feeling any better. It had been a hard month, one of the hardest yet. What is it that happens about four months after a loss? I had been crashing.
She wondered if I was at a point where I could choose to move forward in my grief. That I could choose to be done with the intense stuff. And that would be okay, if that's what I wanted. That maybe the frustration was a sign that it was time to move forward. Not on, but forward. I honestly hadn't considered that I could choose, but it didn't scare me. I couldn't have even thought about it even a month ago. But I could consider it now.
So I've been thinking a lot. I've believed all along that I have to feel what I feel when I feel it. I believe that I have been working hard in my grief. To sort out my thoughts, feelings, and learn how to survive in my new world. It hurts. My babies died and that hurts. So much. That won't change.
What does being done with the hard stuff (for now, anyway...) feel like? Look like? I haven't had an idea of what that would be, though I've thought I'd know it when I am there. Maybe I'm here. Maybe I needed someone to give me permission.
I feel a little guilty for wanting to move on. A little. But I know it's okay. It's good. My babies are good, and I can be good, too. I thought I had reached acceptance when I knew my pregnancies were over. When it was physically apparent. That was an important step towards acceptance, but still, my mind and my heart don't always rarely agree. My heart is - dare I say it - happy. My heart has my babies carved into it forever and for always, but my heart has more room. Room to be happy and to love.
For the last two weeks, I've had mostly good days. I've had more energy and it doesn't take as much effort to move through the day. And it's okay. Good, even. I miss those little ones of mine and think of them every day, but it doesn't hurt every minute. And it's okay. Good, even. I'm living in my world, changed though it is, but my world isn't controlling me. It's my world.