Two years ago, I wrote about how the pain doesn't lessen, you just get better at handling that pain (see Not Less Painful--Just Better At Handling It). You learn to manage it. You learn to live with the pain that is always there in the background. Even so, I am blank.
I am blank because it feels too painful to me right now. The pain management is raw right now. I don't know why. It has been 9 years! Shouldn't it be a dull memory by now? It isn't. And in all honesty, even though I think we should Allow Grief to Be Felt, a lot of times my way of dealing with the pain is to not allow myself to dwell on it. Don't get me wrong, I think about him throughout each and every day, even 9 years later. He is my son. But I don't allow myself to feel that pain. I push it aside. Most of the time. It is hard to do that at this time of year. I reflect back on my excitement 9 years ago at knowing I would soon find out if I was having a boy or girl. I had no idea what was coming.
I have moments where I wander down the path of what if. What if he hadn't died? What would life be like for us? How would life be for Brayden to have a brother only 14 months younger than he is? I know the Lord knows all. I trust in Him. But I still wonder sometimes.
It still hurts. Some days are hard and some days are full of optimism about the whole situation. The hardest days are the days of significance. The day you found out. The day the baby was born. The day that was supposed to be the due date. The day you found out you were even pregnant. These are really some of the only things you have to "hold on" to that represent your child. I am fortunate that I do have some pictures and other mementos, but not all people do.
If you, too, have lost a baby, I think it is normal to still be sad at times (I hope so!). I do find it comforting to write about it (I actually feel better already). Try it yourself (you can write in a journal--let it all out).
If you haven't ever lost a baby, please don't expect people to "get over it." How can you get over something like that? Allow people to grieve in their own way. Allow people to be comforted in their own way. Respect their individual needs. Some like to talk about it and some do not. Everyone is different.