The Anger of Grief

I didn’t want to write about Max because I didn’t know how to write with grace and love when I was stuck in anger and hate. I write this now from a different perspective of my grief than when I first wrote about Max.I don’t want to come off like I needed attention, or have this victimhood. My baby died but the world doesn’t owe me anything. Terrible things happen and while it changed my life, I still wanted to write good things about Max but I was so angry, I was stuck in my grief phase of “anger”. It was anger I felt towards people. No, I’m not angry at God. I’ve always believed God was in control, so why in the world would I be angry that he finally did take control. 

What I was so angry about was the people- how the nurses put me in the maternity ward to deliver a stillborn when I could hear newborns crying and they sent me home with a “Congrats New Mom!” tote full of diapers. I was angry at the people who I thought would be there the most were the ones who ran away the farthest. I was angry at the comments I was getting from people who have never had a baby and were giving me “advice” to get over it.  I was trying so hard to write about this beautiful baby but I was stuck. I was stuck on the criticism I’ve opened myself up to. I will always be a grieving mom and while I used to have thick skin, it’s hard to get it back. I get emails and comments from both extremes- “how dare you be happy when you just lost your son” to “you are a terrible person for feeling the way you do”. I had to stop writing about Max on here because Max’s story is a love story, his story is a gift and I thought some didn’t deserve to hear it. Even though he’s not alive, like a parent, there’s still a sense of protection of his little legacy, because that’s all I have of him to protect.

Something beautiful happened recently- I wasn’t angry anymore. I know it sounds crazy but after being angry for long enough, I was miserable being angry. I didn’t want Max’s memory to be associated with anger. It’s normal, it’s okay, but I was miserable. I wanted to be free of it. I would rather accept the sadness than lose my life in the anger. I understood there isn't a normal for infant death and while people say stupid things, I found grace and love in them. It didn’t just happen overnight, it happened over months time, with surrounding myself with people that love me- anger and all-, it took hours of therapy, hours of multiple baby loss groups, hours of vulnerability. I wouldn’t change the anger for anything else because if that’s what it took to get me to the emotional freedom I’m at today, I would do it all over again. And again. And again. Thank God for grace.