From the heart of a bereaved Mother... This is now what "normal" is...
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age they would be now and not being able to imagine it. (This applies to pregnant women for me)
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someones eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal". ( This one is so true and really surprised me when it first happened. I can't believe how calmly and without tears I can talk about it now. But inside it still hurts so bad. I am afraid people expect me to cry the whole time I talk about him. And then I worry that they don't understand when I don't.)
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and their birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really. (This applies to my looming due date and how I will handle the anniversary of his death and the Thanksgiving ,the day it started and Christmas holidays this year.)
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my babies or even ask how I am.
Normal is making sure that others remember them.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but losing your own child is unnatural.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.
Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food. (But, thankfully this is greatly improving for me)
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have 1 child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God. (The latter part of this is true for me. I am afraid to say a prayer right now. Is there anyone listening?)
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.
And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
------ author unknown