Tag: grieving while parenting

The Second Birthday

The Second Birthday

by Trish Hlohinec ♥ 1 Comment

September 3 marked two years since my perfect Baby Sloane was born still. My son told me he didn’t want to go to the cemetery to visit Sloane’s grave because it makes him sad. And because it makes me sad. Truth be told, I don’t like going there either. I wish I didn’t have a grave to visit. I wish she were here with us. I wish I could just stop thinking about her, stop reliving the horror and trauma of the day she came into the world, stop what-iffing myself over and over again. I wish I could just forget it ever happened and move on with my life. But you know what? I can’t. Why? Because she’s my baby. She came from my body and she’s a part of my family. She literally pops into my head a hundred times a day, just as often as my son does. I can’t forget her, or move on, or pretend she didn’t exist. So I do my best to keep her memory alive and make her proud of me. I write about her, I speak publicly about her birth and our experience with the medical system and care providers, I make donations in her name, I buy all the keepsakes, I add her name to memorial items, because that’s all I can do.

Instead of having our friends and family over for Sloane’s 2nd birthday, I put flowers on her grave, bought myself a birthday cake that I like, and tried to enjoy the beautiful boy I have the privilege to raise. It’s so beyond unfair that this is my reality, and it hurts knowing that I am one of millions of parents who know this heartbreak.

This life is beautiful and cruel and above all else, bittersweet.

Happy 2nd birthday, Baby Sloane 💜 I love you and miss you more than words can say

Back to Normal

Back to Normal

by Trish Hlohinec ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

One thing I hear often these days is how people want to get “back to normal” after Covid-19. Since March 2020, most of us have been in some form of lockdown, some have been unemployed or working from home, some have really struggled with isolation, while others have thrived (and learned how to make sourdough everything). I didn’t take on any new hobbies, or learn any skills, because I felt that growing a person was enough of a project to work on during a global pandemic.

Now that the majority of our adult population has been fully vaccinated, people want to get back to what they’ve missed out on over the past 18 months – traveling, concerts, parties, weddings and even funerals. While I’ll gladly admit that I do miss some of these things, I really have no idea what “back to normal” even means after a loss. I mean, this blog is called before and after Sloane because it was and is such a monumental event that it has forever divided my life into two parts. If she hadn’t died, I’d like to think I would be just as excited to get back into the mix as everyone else, as tricky as that would be with a young baby. But she did die, and I can’t go back. The world as I know it has indelibly changed. It’s now a world where a pregnancy test doesn’t guarantee a happy ending, where a perfect anatomy scan doesn’t mean that your baby will come home. It’s a world where cemeteries have a section just for babies.

I have changed, too. I am no longer the same person I was before my heart was shattered. I am less patient, less focused, more forgetful. I have less energy, lower self-confidence, more anxiety. The thought of going to a party and making small talk is kind of terrifying if I’m being completely honest. What if I meet someone new and they ask me about my family? What if someone I do know doesn’t ask me how I’m really doing? What if they do?

For me, at least, there is no going BACK to normal. I have to find a new normal, as cliché as that sounds. I have to find a way to honour Sloane while continuing to move forward. I have to keep telling her story so that she doesn’t get left in the past when everyone else moves on.

There’s a saying I found that goes something like “Don’t tell a grieving person to look to the future, because their person is missing there, too.” If I can’t go back, and moving on isn’t possible, I think I’ll stay right where I am for a little while longer.