My rage is scary.
My rage burns every inch of my inside. It chokes me suddenly and I can't take a breath.
It screams in my ears and echoes in my brain, distressing words hitting the wall of forehead insistently, rhythmically, faster and faster.
My face is red, burning, filled of blood pumping and looking for a way out.
I listen and it scares me. I listen and it's me speaking, I listen and it scares me, because I don't recognize what I have become.
Stop saying grief happens in 5 stages. That anger is the second and comes after denial and numbness and it's followed by depression, which is followed by acceptance.
Anger comes when it wants to. Anger is me and perhaps it will be me forever.
Anger comes when it's triggered, anger comes and tells me I can feel the worst version of myself I can ever imagine. In my mind.
My new-me knows my anger is valid and doesn't try to block it from happening. But my new-me knows also I deserve peace that comes when I release it.
This burning rage is the energy generated by the greatest pain a mother could bear.
And I can use this energy. I can use this energy in a less destructive way.
Defending our cause, defending other families' causes.
Defending you, my sweet daughter.
I accept you burning rage, because I recognize you too are me now. But you are not the totality of my new me.
Ida Saoirse Scherer,
our first baby girl, who was born and died at 16+5 weeks on the 30th November 2017.
Resources about Termination for Medical Reasons
Sister-friend Emily writing for her first son Amari Regan (Fragile X Syndrome)
Katrina's blog for her second daughter April Rey (Trisomy 13)