Life has been fairly acceptable this week. I hesitate to say 'good' because that might give the illusion that they are. It's not 'good', but this past week, I have been able to function like a pretty normal person. This comes with a mixed reaction from me. On one hand, I am grateful for the reprieve from the crushing grief that paralyzed me weeks ago. I am glad I can enjoy some of the Christmas season through the eyes of my son, and appreciate his wonder and enthusiasm for life. I am cautious in this acknowledgment, however, because it kind of scares me. I don't know if I should be feeling this okay... this "good"... I am told by other grieving parents, and by my wise husband, to take what comes, unquestioningly. Accept that the hard days will not be forever, and embrace the good ones for what they are: good days. They are something to be grateful for, to be sure.

I am just one of those people who are constantly second guessing themselves. I don't trust myself enough, I don't believe in the legitimacy of my emotions. Somehow, when it's bad, I panic and seek respite from the pain, and when it's good, I worry that I'm not grieving properly, in that I'm able to feel good, and all of this will come back to haunt me, because I'm not doing it right. Yes, it's lots of fun inside my head.

As my grief journey is progressing, and some of the black, deep, despair is (thankfully) softening, I am finding I do have some control over the acceptance, and expression of my mourning. This is good and bad. When Isla first died, I was shattered, unable to function at all, unable to do anything but immerse myself in her death, and try not to drown. Now that I've found some footing in this experience, and am incorporating this loss into my life, I am more able to choose when I wade into the sadness. The problem is, a lot of the time, I am just choosing not to at all. I know it's the wrong thing to do, I am fully aware of when I choose to deny an impending grief outburst, or stifle tears in an inappropriate (and sometimes, appropriate) situation. It's not good that I am doing this. This is not honouring my daughter, this is not working through the grief, it's working around it. This is the bad way. Many books will say there is no 'wrong' way to grieve, but I believe there is. Yet, I feel such a sense of relief in my ability to exercise some control over my emotions. It's empowering, and gives me some strength, some hope, and it's hard to deny it. I relish this newfound control. Perhaps it is okay... I don't really know. I assume that because I am human, and doubtlessly loved my daughter, that the grief hasn't disappeared at all, rather, it is ebbing, as grief is apparently wont to do. My emotions swing broadly to and from the extreme ends of the spectrum, and I can't assume that because I am currently in a place of tranquility and hope, that I won't swing back to despair eventually. Not that I am inviting such a self-fulfilling prophecy, but just that maybe I can take today for what it is, and try not to ask too much of myself, or question my own experience too much. It is, after all, my own unique experience, and sometimes I forget that that doesn't make it right or wrong, it is just mine. It is sacred and unique, to me.

A wise friend of mine, who also tragically lost her infant daughter, told me that it's not forgetting, it's not stopping grieving, it's 'moving along in my grace'. I don't know exactly what she meant, but it sounds good to me. I think it means something along the lines of me being human, suffering an insufferable loss, finding a glimmer of hope in the dread. Embracing it, and letting it embrace me, for I need this, and I deserve it.
And so come the tears.