Right Where I Am: 6 weeks and 5 days. This project is from the blog Still Life with Circles, that i found one day in my hours of internet searching for some kind of resolution. It helps me to read about people's grief in the months and years following a loss. All of us are defined by the harsh before-and-after of losing a baby.
Today is my due date. The summer solstice. The day I had been counting down to since I first found out I was pregnant. And of course, now it is just another day, where I try to stumble my way through my life, wading through the world as best as I can. I really need to write today, I feel like I need to suck out every last drop of my pregnancy, labor and delivery. Because after today, it's just over.
I really miss being pregnant. I miss my husband telling me and my belly goodnight, that he loved us.
In the almost 7 weeks since I "lost" my daughter, I have changed. I survived the first few weeks of numbness. I survived going back to work, I am surviving every single day that takes me further away from my pregnancy and Kayla, but also a tiny step closer closer to hope and my future.
6 weeks and 5 days ago I lost my innocence, and I am so intensely sad for that. I am so sad for My BABY, who will never know how beautiful it is to live, but I am also really sad for myself lately, and my husband and our families. We had so many dreams wrapped up in this pregnancy and our baby, dreams that are still being unraveled and revealed to me each day. Things that I didn't even realize I was planning on doing or experiencing with Kayla catch me off guard and leave me sobbing and limp.
I'm still feeling guilty. If only I would have realized you were dying. If only I hadn't had TWO baby showers, been so sure of you being born healthy. I know it wasn't my fault, but I need a villain. Who am I going to blame? Not God, who I do feel has been holding me up during this crisis. Not my doctor, who cried with me and provided me with compassionate care. Not my husband, who is still walking around in shock trying to pretend everything is ok. And I know I'm really not to blame either , but I still feel guilty.
My world has gotten a lot smaller since May 5th, as I've had to shrink my contact with people I care about. I may lose my friends, alienate my family and those that most care about me and who are trying to hold me up. I am so grateful to these people, but I have to take care of myself in a deep way, even if that means not returning phone calls and just "disappearing" for awhile. I am hopeful that I will reconnect with these people at my own pace. I have also just begun connecting to an online community, which has been a lifesaver.
I don't want this loss to make me crazy. I don't want it to consume every second of my thoughts, but right now it still is. I am impatient with my grief and with myself. Yesterday, I was peaceful and hopeful. Today I am beyond sad and restless. Actually, no....two hours ago I was sad and restless. Now I am sitting on my back patio, watching the leaves rustle with a summer solstice breeze and I am peaceful. The back-and-forth is exhausting. My husband is starting to worry about me, thinking I should be "better" by now.But I know that in all of this back-and-forth, the intense crying, the unexpected joys over small details of life, that I am healing.
Even though today is one of those days that I came straight home from work, ate 5 cookies and laid on the couch crying, overall I am starting to look towards MY future. Kayla doesn't have a future, but I do. I have to find a way to feel fulfilled in my life. I want to find new things that create a spark in me. I am scared I will never find that spark. I still want to be a mother, and we are just starting to think about the possibility of trying for another baby. I know now more than ever that nothing in life is guaranteed. I am scared I will never have a living child.
So, that is where I am almost 7 weeks after I learned my daughter had died and had to push her out, knowing I would never really get to know her. Sad, nostalgic, guilty, restless, hopeful, scared.
I am so sorry for your loss and I appreciate more than anything what you have shared here. I feel fortunate to have found this post through the "still life with circles" page. There are so many things that you have written that almost exactly echo what my husband and I are feeling. We lost our first son on April 18 to preeclampsia. He was stillborn at 30 weeks and 5 days. Today was my due date. I have also been feeling the back and forth and ups and downs. I sometimes feel like everything will work out and other times feel like our lives will just fall apart. I often at seemingly random times am hit with the realization that I had planned or pictured or dreamed of doing certain things with our little Ayden. We also are terrified by the thought that we may never have the opportunity to raise a child of our own. Knowing now what it feels like to lose a child of our own, it is scary to think of losing another but we want to at least have the opportunity to have a living, healthy child to raise.
ReplyDeleteKnow that my thoughts and prayers are with you and your husband. Thank you again for sharing your story.
I agree with Jenny! Thank you for sharing your story.
ReplyDeleteThank you both for reading my story, I am finding writing to be very healing for me, and I love connecting to other people going through this same horrible thing.
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry that your precious firstborn daughter, Kayla, is not in your arms right now. I also hope that the days since her due date have passed gently.
ReplyDeleteI have been amazed by the number of mamas who are so early in their grief who have been able to find the words to articulate how they feel. I didn't start blogging until I was six months out and I wish I had started earlier - it became such a place of comfort and solace.
Thank you for participating in Angie's blog hop. It's a difficult path we walk but it's made more bearable when we recognise others on the way.
Thanks for sharing, even as it's so raw. We lost our baby Margot about six weeks before you lost Kayla and I can identify with so much of what you wrote, especially all of the sadness mixed with the hope you want to come. When you said, "I don't want this loss to make me crazy," it really hit home. I feel that way every single day. Like I don't want to lose my baby and lose my life as well. Resiliency and gentleness and gratitude are hard to come by, but they have helped us in our journey towards healing (however long it may take). Lots of love to you and your partner.
ReplyDeleteJosh
So very sorry for the loss of Kayla. I love her name. I too lost a firstborn daughter, so my already broken heart goes out to you.
ReplyDeletexo