So I realize I haven't posted much lately. Originally writing in this blog was a healing thing for me. For the last month it hasn't really been what I needed in terms of healing and I let it slide. Finally I feel ready to come back and let this part of my healing again.
My due date was yesterday. There were many things about it that were awful, as I knew it would be. First, I kind of tried to avoid it by just forgetting what day it was. I let August creep up on me like a stealthy animal. I just sort of avoided noticing that the day was getting closer. Sounds crazy right? How can someone just ignore the fact that August 1st is coming? Totally ridiculous? But it worked for me. I knew the weekend was coming up and even used some tactics to stay busy.
My sister asked me to watch her 8 year old son on Friday night and I said yes thinking it might distract me. Then J asked me if we could go to a BBQ with some friends on Sunday. I said yes thinking it might distract me. I did plan to take Monday the 1st off the whole time, but I thought if I had enough things going on that the day would creep up on me and be one day where I could be sad and then move on.
It didn't happen like that of course. I've been distracted and cranky all week. I've snapped at J and cried lots this week. I've been impatient and irritable. I just ignored all those symptoms. I blamed it on other things.
By the time Sunday July 31st rolled around I was pretty much falling apart. We had agreed to go to a friend's house for a BBQ and I cried the entire way over. I'm pretty sure they thought I was just being a cranky bitch when I got there. They aren't like really close friends--so probably had no idea about the due date. While we were there J made arrangements to go fishing the next day. It was all I could do to keep from crying. Didn't he remember the next day was Bear's due date? Didn't he care? So the whole way home I cried too. Awesome right? He ended up calling and cancelling the fishing trip and then I felt bad. Didn't he deserve to try to handle the day in a way that best worked for him? Didn't he deserve to try to be happy. So then instead of just feeling crappy, I felt crappy and guilty. More awesomeness.
So once we got home on Sunday I continued to cry most of the night away. Oddly enough when I woke up on Monday, August 1st I wasn't feeling to awful. It wasn't until later in the day that it hit me. I just kept asking the same questions I had asked when we originally lost him:
Why did this happen to us?
Why did he have to get sick?
Why don't I get to have healthy babies?
Why does the universe hate me?
Why didn't this happen to someone else (lovely right?)?
Was there anything I could have done to stop it?
Why didn't I start having kids earlier in life?
Why do babies get sick and die?
Why do people who don't want kids get them and I don't?
Why did my baby have T21 if I am healthy and take care of myself?
What reason is there for chromosome issues in this world of ours?
How come I have to hurt so bad?
Will it always hurt this bad?
Why am I such a bad mom that I didn't get him cremated?
Will I ever have a baby?
Will I be able to have healthy babies?
and on and on and on.......
You can't imagine (well if you've been through this you can I guess) the pain and the stupid questions that come up. Like asking why does anything. It doesn't. It only makes it worse. That's all I did for hours Monday night. Was continually questioning why this all happened.
I got out his ultrasound pictures and his footprints and cried. I also got out his blessing card. When they did the D & E we had a minister do a blessing over his remains. I'm not religious, but I think it was comforting to J. Oddly enough it was also comforting to me.
One of the things I dwelt on quite a bit yesterday was the lack of support. I basically got very very angry at one point and was yelling to J about how shitty my family and friends are. I realize it's really easy to trade one emotion (sadness) for another (anger). And that's definitely what I did. I was pissed that I hadn't heard from my mom or my sister or my best friend. Eventually my little sister did text me. It made me feel marginally better. I realize that these people have their own lives, but how hard would it have been to let me know they were thinking of me? I think the bottom line is that they weren't thinking of me. Do you think my mom even remembered? No probably not. And if she did she probably had no idea what to say. My BFF certainly probably didn't remember. She was barely there for me when I lost him. Why would she be there when I continued to grieve for him? It's amazing to me how much this hurt. J's mom and sister both made it a point to reach out to us. His sister sent a text and his mom sent an email.
So that's where I am. Still grieving for my lost baby boy 4 1/2 months later. I had him with me as long as I haven't now. He was 4 1/2 months when we lost him and now it's 4 1/2 months later. It's been the longest, worst year of my life. Which sucks, considering it's also been the first year of married life for J and I. It's been really tough on us. We are doing okay, but it's a strain to have so many crappy things happen.
Some of this has reminded me how alone we all are in the Universe. My struggles are my own. Even with a husband and a family and friends that I love, the struggles are still my own. I can't rely on others to help handle my pain. It's mine alone and mine to deal with. I am a very introverted and closed off person in the first place. On the very rare occasions when I really could use someone reaching in and helping me, I do sometimes get disappointed. So it just reminds me seriously of how alone we are. I know that might seem sad and depressing to some people, but to me it's a point of strength. I grew up knowing you couldn't rely on other people and that the people you trust the most can betray you in the most horrible ways. I'm seeing now that as an adult the little bit of trust and openness that I've worked on for myself is just an illusion. Sad? Not really. Just a reminder of who I am and where I came from.
My childhood was sometimes crappy--since I grew up with an alcoholic father and a co-dependent mother, but losing Bear was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. My life has been pretty easy going up until this point. Even with a few traumatic events behind me I still never experienced anything quite like this. I can't believe that people deal with pain like this on a regular basis. I'm not sure how well I can handle this if it happens again.