What we all want: Acceptance

A few nights ago, my husband and I sat down to watch Diane Sawyer's interview with Bruce Jenner.  My heart broke for this man who had gone through so much in his life, who seemingly had 'everything' but felt like a liar all this time.  On the surface, Mr. Jenner's life seems perfect: a big family [6 biological children from 3 marriages and 4 stepchildren], a gorgeous home in Malibu, fame, fortune, time to enjoy his hobbies...what more could one want?  But all that couldn't make up for the lack of authenticity in his life - wanting to be accepted for who he is, loved for what's on the inside and to be hopefully understood and not judged.  As I watched the interview, so much of this resonated with me.  After all, I also want to be understood, not judged, accepted and loved.

I want my friends and family to at least make an effort to understand my 'new normal', to ask how we are doing without our babies, to mention their names. Sadly, people avoid us, as if somehow the death of a child was contagious. Perhaps, I don't blame them. It must be very difficult and sobering to have to think, even if for a moment, about what it might feel like to lose a child.  That pain is so intense that even thinking about it paralyzes you - so perhaps our friends and family simply avoid the topic altogether.  But in order for my husband and I to be understood, they have to delve into this uncomfortable and painful place, they have to consider that some of our actions and decisions are deeply affected by the sense of pain and loss that we deal with on a daily basis, that some of the things they say or infer are very hurtful and inappropriate when examined in the context of this pain and loss.

I don't want to be judged - I guess that goes hand in hand with being understood.  They think I don't notice the way their brows furrow when I respond a little harshly or loose my temper faster than always - but they are not dealing with this uncontrollable sense of anger, this beast that lives inside and feeds on the unfairness of my circumstance.  They hide their sense of confusion when I call my angels by name because they forget who they are.  But the most hurtful are the overt ones - the friend who emails to tell you that you should appreciate what you have because she 'would give a limb for a mother, husband OR little girl of my own that loved me' and that 'holding onto that initial grief isn't right'.  I hear the former all the time - that Sophie, our only living child is such a blessing and that we should be grateful, as if we didn't appreciate her and thank God each night for having her in our lives.  Then there is the latter, the constant requirement that I need to move on, yet the 'friend' telling me this has a tribute page to her deceased father where she posts often, keeping his memory alive.  I think that is very sweet but I fail to understand why that is acceptable, but by mentioning my children, my grief is 'initial' [whatever that means] and 'not right'. Its because of this judging that we have stopped sharing our losses, or even the fact that we are trying for that matter. The judging is what hurts the most and it usually from people who seemed to understand, so maybe that is why it hurts so much.

I want to be loved.  It seems like such a simple statement and it is.  Having gone through so many losses, we have learned the hard way who truly loves us - and its not as many people as you'd think.  It's not hard to find people to surround yourself with when times are good - we've had a houseful of 'friends' for Christmas parties, BBQ's etc.  They would be crammed in like sardines and were happy to socialize in our home, eat our food and drink our booze... but when times got tough and we reached out asking for help, the love and support that we so desperately needed just wasn't there.  Some never replied, some made excuses - while my heart kept hurting.  There were a handful of people, those that we least expected, that were there and those are the friends we cherish.  I so appreciate their love and support, because outside of that handful, our phone has gone silent.  I just want to feel like I am important to our friends, like we matter and that these losses that we have endured have made a difference in their lives as well.

Acceptance - isn't that what we all want?  Isn't that the culmination of the above three?  I want people to accept me, the entire package, the good, the bad and ugly.  I want to be able to show my true self to the world, to share that side of my life with my family and friends - but instead I feel like I live a double life full of smiles on the outside and emotional turmoil on the inside. I know that simply my presence at a social event makes people uncomfortable...and that is not acceptance.