Grieving Myself

It’s taken nearly a year to realize that the person I was before my daughter’s death, is gone forever. This metamorphosis was unwanted and unexpected; however, it is permanent. I long for that life of innocence. The life before child-loss where you have the ability to hope, dream and have faith that good things can happen. I can’t look at old photos without feeling like I’ve been eviscerated. I see the look. The look of a smiling woman in a photo, without the darkness of a shattered heart in her eyes, with a smile that is genuine and not forced or fake. It’s all gone, and I can’t change that. 

I’ve spent the last year grieving, and unintentionally, rediscovering myself. Who am I? I’ve got no clue. But I know I’m forever changed and that I am a shell of who I once was. 

I have a new life now. One where I’m rarely motivated, cry at the drop of a hat and struggle to find joy. My family and many of my friends are still here... but have also been marked by my darkness. I have new friends, ones that I never wanted, but now cannot live without. I do my best to ‘live’ and put on a brave face, to go through the motions and fit in with a society who, for the most part, cannot empathize with me… but most days, I’m not successful. 

I am fortunate that my marriage became stronger as we grieved our daughter together. Our three fur babies are still with us and show us unconditional love, bring us unlimited snuggles and even some laughter. Often times, the stress of infertility and child loss break relationships, so for this, I am grateful. 

Although we’ve been married for 5 years, I maintained my maiden name. It never felt quite right to change it, nor did I feel the need to. Recently, I changed my last name after I was no longer able to fight the urge to do so. I did this not because I believe in the patriarchal precedent that women must assume the name of their husband, but because it is the name I now share with my daughter. Despite the unparalleled connection of our bloodline, we have so few tangible things we share after her short life and this was one that I needed. While this process gave me a closeness to Lola I’d been longing for, it also lets the world know I’ve changed forever. Emily Coleman is gone; I’ve let her go. As much as I wish there was a time machine to go back, Emily Lewis is here now. Who exactly she is, is yet to be determined.

Emily xo