Do you know me?  I used to be so cheerful, the proud owner of an easy smile.  I was optimistic and upbeat; pointing out the silver lining behind each of the dark and looming clouds.  I was walking across the bridge into motherhood, and felt full of dreams for this baby that was growing inside me, our baby, my baby.

Do you remember me?  I used to love going out with my friends, chatting on the phone, hanging out doing nothing, dishing over the gossip columns.  I was the one who laughed the hardest when we saw that show together.  I was the one who would spend hours shopping with you to find that perfect dress for your special event. 

I was the one.  I was.

Proof that we're traveling on two-way street

In the wake of the death of your child, when everything is turned upside down and your mind has dragged you into The Big Round Room , it is next to impossible to muster up the energy required to reach out to others.  This is a time when you are just so broken and in such physical and emotional pain that self preservation and the more base instincts take over and you turn inward, processing and hurting.

Like a crab who has outgrown and shed his old shell, you retreat into safety while your new shell hardens. You prepare yourself to emerge as the new you, stepping into your new normal.  Those first tentative steps are scary, the future is uncertain.  It takes an enormous amount of courage and energy to show yourself to others, to be vulnerable and exposed in this way.

Openness and honesty during the grieving process are vital.

When you survive a deep loss like the death of your child, I don't think many people would argue with the fact that you come through this event a changed person.  In fact, I think "changed" is putting it mildly.  And while most people would (and do) agree with this notion in theory, the ramifications in practice are not so easily accepted.

So, what happens when you are living in your grief and the rest of the world has gone back to their lives?  How can you cope with the well-meaning family and friends who have decided that it is time for you to move on?  Once you've settled into your post-loss life, what are you supposed to do about the well-meaning people who just wish you'd be happier, more interested in life, or just quite simply... the old you?