Just following on from this discussion...
Honestly there are so many different angles to this, that it couldn't be covered in one (already extremely long) post. As one person described, it's like the tip of an iceberg. So true. And I could go on all day about other aspects (and don't you worry, eventually I will run dry of all the angles before I'm finished here... eventually) but who wants to listen? It gets too hard after a while to mind your p's and q's doesn't it? No, better to just lump it back on those doing the grieving! And to rebut that kind of thinking, I make the point: The people who avoid you after something like this, in some respects, are just as hard to take or cope with as the ones who are in your face about their children!
Only recently, we discovered we have people around us who don't know how to "be" when they see us, we hear they feel guilty... presumably about the fact that they have a baby. I wouldn't know for sure, they have never discussed it with us! Which means they either don't know how to begin to approach this with us, or how to come to terms with it in their own personal headspace. It shows me they maybe do care about us more than they make out, but this is a funny way to show it: by putting the responsibility to "fix this" all back on us, that once again, we are not "coping" and need to "see someone". What? And until then, you will just sit back and wait? And judge me and my opinions in the meantime? Hmmmm. Methinks the problems may lie elsewhere than with me and Steve.
I've found we have only lost touch with a few people - it is most certainly not just their loss, but their children's loss. It's very hard to explain to someone why you can one day be strong enough to get on the floor and play with their kiddy, and yet next time you see them .. well, you'd simply rather not even go.
This "black and white" doesn't happen! It simply doesn't exist in my world anymore, not regarding when I'm ok with other children/babies. How do I explain I might be ok today when I plan to see you on the weekend, but when the day comes I might have woken from having a vivid dream about my daughter and simply don't feel like it. When I call off our pre-arranged visit, or drag my feet and seem distant or fake if I make myself go, I feel judged. Watched. Certainly not forgiven. Surely I'm past my grief! My daughter died almost 2 years ago! Heaven forbid I should go back on my word that I am ok with being around your child... why, it was only yesterday I told you how cute I thought she was.
I can see how confusing this is for those who don't live it. Doesn't mean I can stop my feelings, which is why we need the support of the ones who haven't lost. Just for you to understand this sliver of the iceberg, this slush cone's worth, would be such a relief.
We are going through this every minute. Those around us only have to really cope with us, or think about all these sticky social situations, when they're around us. Hardly seems right that we let you, the ones not grieving, off the hook so often over many things - literally every second conversation - yet we are expected to remain on the same old even keel. The parameters by which we are judged, and let's face it, we all make observations whether or not you'd go as far as saying they're judgements, cannot remain the same as they were before we lost that precious child of ours.
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