Grief. It’s a horrible thing. It’s lonely, it’s sad, and nothing can prepare you for how it will feel, because everyone experiences something different and for different lengths of time. I’ve experienced grief before, I’ve lost Grandparents, my Aunty and Uncle and many pets, but no loss has ever hit me quite like losing my daughter.
Most of it feels as I would have expected; the sadness, the hollow feeling in my chest and the loneliness, but what’s surprised me the most is the anger I feel.
When studying counselling I learnt a little bit about bereavement and I remember Kubler Ross’s stages of grief: denial, anger, depression, bargaining and acceptance. Although I knew anger was a part of it, I assumed it would be anger at myself (Which of course, it is) but what I didn’t consider would be the anger I would feel to those around me.
I think if I could be scanned into a computer and had a pie chart made of me I’m certain a solid 65% would be pure anger; I just manage to hide it very well. I’m not a person that deals with anger very well at the best of times, so feeling as if I am currently over half made up of pure anger is a tad unsettling.
To me, anger is a bad thing that I’m wrong for feeling (But that’s a problem for another day) and so being angry that my little girl was snatched away from me feels like something I shouldn’t be feeling… despite that sounding like a very regular thing to feel as I look at it written down. But the thing is, it’s not just that that I’m angry about.
One place I cannot escape the feeling of anger is at work. For example, recently someone asked me where the nappies were, and so I took her. Only she stopped halfway and declared “Oh, hang on. I’ve forgot the baby.” and proceeded to walk back two aisles to collect her little boy, who was stood clutching the trolley. Let me tell you, it’s a really good job it’s still compulsory to wear a face mask, because the words I whispered to myself about her, and the names I called her would have got me into some big trouble.
“How come she gets a baby, and I didn’t? I would never forget my baby in a supermarket.”
I was so angry I had to take myself off the shop floor for a moment because it only would have taken one person to utter “Where’s the pregnancy tests?” for me to want to punch someone.
The most worrying part is, I’m not sure if my anger is getting better, staying the same, or getting worse over time. But I guess it’s still early days, it has been ten months, which is no time at all I know, but I just want to feel normal again.
I don’t even remember what normal that feels like.
Last week, I had a lovely day with my Mam, I spent the day at her house with her and the cat. It was a gorgeous warm day and I’d driven to her house with my car windows down, listening to Paramore’s After Laughter album; it felt like a small injection of happiness. I did the same on the way home from her house too, it was beautiful.
Well, it was beautiful until I pulled up outside my own house and I looked up to notice a banner in my neighbour’s window that read “IT’S A BOY!”
My happiness instantly flew away. Neither the sunshine, nor Paramore could help now. The anger filled my body and poured out my eyes. I burst into my house, threw my shopping on the floor (The welfare of the bread was the least of my worries right now) and I went upstairs to tell my boyfriend.
“It’s not fair. Why does she get to bring her baby back home and we didn’t!”
I feel like a broken record.
Or maybe just a broken person.
It’s not that I’m not happy for someone having a healthy baby and bringing them home, that’s all I wish on people! It’s just the immense jealousy I feel that we didn’t get that too.
But that’s the thing, nothing can prepare you for what you may, or may not feel when losing a loved one. Whether it’s your Grandad, your baby, or your dog; it’s grief that surprises you and manifests in its own peculiar ways, bringing with it intense emotions that hit you like a train.
It feels odd to say “Hello, I’m a very angry person right now.” but that is the reality of my grief, and I guess I just wanted to say that apparently (According to my counsellor anyway), it’s very normal.
I know deep down it doesn’t make me a horrible person, and it’s actually not a reflection on me as a person; it’s a reflection of the pain and grief I’m feeling. I’m not angry that someone had a baby, or that they had a healthy baby, (However, I am angry about the woman forgetting her baby in the shop) I’m just angry that I never got that.
It’s going to hurt for a long time, and it’s probably not going to feel any better for an even longer time either. But in talking to my counsellor about it, she’s told me time and time again that feeling this way is normal, which is nice to know in a way. I felt like I should write this post in case someone reading it feels a similar way, someone who doesn’t pay a counsellor to tell them their feelings are okay and normal.
We’re not alone in our anger and we’re doing the best we can, even if we’re doing it through gritted teeth.
Gwen Richards 