I sometimes revert to old feelings when faced with babies. Not all babies... just some babies... or rather when I am faced with numerous babies. For example, in a shopping mall, when every stroller is a reminder of what I am living without.
Sometimes I can't help but believe that my son was taken so that those babies could live, because if their baby had been stillborn then maybe mine would've been spared. I know logically that that is probably not the case. I have been through, in my mind, several times why mine was taken and not other people's. I probably know of at least a dozen women who have given birth to healthy babies since mine was stillborn. Each time I thought to myself "why mine and not hers?". Each time I was able to say "well, she had a rough time when..." so she's probably been through enough. Maybe their struggles will take place in the future and I will think back and say "Imagine having to endure a stillbirth AND that?"... Maybe I can bring the taboo issue of stillbirth to the forefront while she will keep quiet. Maybe I conceive easily while she struggles. I don't know the reason I was chosen. I probably won't ever know why, but I have accepted it. It's just that once in awhile I have to wonder. I look at all those strollers and I can't help but think about what should have been.
My life hasn't been all roses but I am thankful for what I have. I believe that every struggle that I have faced throughout my life has helped to build my character, has made me who I am today. I may at times be bitter and thin-skinned but I also believe that I am entitled to those feelings every so often.
I try with all my heart to take a positive approach to life. I try to see the silver lining in every situation, I try not to use my loss as an excuse, I try to believe that the future will bring me happiness.
I used to think that family pictures would never be complete and family gatherings would always be missing somebody but I know now that that couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is that, though my son may not be here with us on Earth, he is always in our hearts. He is in every family picture and present at every family gathering. I see him in my reflection in the mirror and in my daughter's eyes. He is with us when we play outside, when we're eating dinner and when I'm driving to work. He is always with us and he will always be.
I may sometimes waver from my belief that everything happens for a reason but I always come back to it at the end of the day. I have to believe that I was chosen because I will persevere. I will move forward and make the most out of these cards that I've been dealt. It's what my beautiful Zachary would want me to do.
Showing posts with label stillbirth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stillbirth. Show all posts
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
6 months
I thought I would wait and see if anyone remembered that today is the 6 month anniversary of my son's stillbirth. I thought I would see if those who love me and who loved him would offer their support today without me having to ask for it. I even nonchalantly reminded some of those closest to me... my mother, my sister, a close friend... Nobody has said a word to me. Are they waiting for me to bring it up? They don't want to chance upsetting me on what might be a good day? I don't know...
I have learned one thing in the last 6 months, though. Actually I have learned many things. One of the things that I have learned, though, is that people would rather wait for you to bring up your tragedy than chance bringing it up and upsetting you on a good day.
The other thing that I have learned is that the build up and the anticipation of these horrible milestones are much worse than the actual milestones. Thinking about the months that have passed or the holidays that have been missed are much more painful than the anniversaries and holidays themselves.
I miss my son every day. I think of him constantly but I am not sad anymore. I may never feel complete, I will never forget but I can no longer be sad. I will not allow my son's life to be a sad part of my life. I loved him too much to be sad. He wouldn't want his Mommy to be sad forever. He would want me to move forward and smile and laugh and enjoy life, even if it is without him. He would want me to enjoy his big sister and embrace his little sister or brother who is on the way. He would want me to live the best life I can posibly live... and I know he is watching us and he knows how much we love him and miss him and how much we think about him. We don't need to be sad in order to grieve him.
I miss my son but I am not sad. He is with me in everything I do every single day of my life. I carry him in my heart and in my mind. I love him with everything that I have and he will always be a part of our family.
I have learned one thing in the last 6 months, though. Actually I have learned many things. One of the things that I have learned, though, is that people would rather wait for you to bring up your tragedy than chance bringing it up and upsetting you on a good day.
The other thing that I have learned is that the build up and the anticipation of these horrible milestones are much worse than the actual milestones. Thinking about the months that have passed or the holidays that have been missed are much more painful than the anniversaries and holidays themselves.
I miss my son every day. I think of him constantly but I am not sad anymore. I may never feel complete, I will never forget but I can no longer be sad. I will not allow my son's life to be a sad part of my life. I loved him too much to be sad. He wouldn't want his Mommy to be sad forever. He would want me to move forward and smile and laugh and enjoy life, even if it is without him. He would want me to enjoy his big sister and embrace his little sister or brother who is on the way. He would want me to live the best life I can posibly live... and I know he is watching us and he knows how much we love him and miss him and how much we think about him. We don't need to be sad in order to grieve him.
I miss my son but I am not sad. He is with me in everything I do every single day of my life. I carry him in my heart and in my mind. I love him with everything that I have and he will always be a part of our family.
Friday, December 4, 2009
I am entering a new phase in my grieving process. I met with a Grief Counselor for lunch yesterday. We talked for about an hour and discussed my personal situation and what I have done to pass the time. We discussed my daughter and S and how they have been coping and other family members. At the end of the meeting she said to me "What do you want from me? I mean, what do you hope to get out of meeting with me?" So I told her that I want to make sure that I am coping as well as I feel that I have been coping... To make sure that I'm not fooling myself into believing that I have delt with my grief, only to have it knock me on my ass a few months down the road. That's when she told me that I have done all the grief work and have taken an extremely healthy approach to healing and that there doesn't seem to be anything more that she can do to help me. She does, however, want to keep in touch and may recruit me to be an ambassador for this cause.
It's funny... I never imagined myself being such a fighter. I never thought that I could overcome something as life-altering as losing a baby. I always pictured myself as more of a curl up and die kind of person... but if I were to do that, then what would that say about my son's life? How could I let that be his legacy? I refuse to let my son's death be in vain. I need to feel like his death was for a purpose, even if the wisdom I have gained from losing him helps to save just one other baby, this pain that I have endured will have been worth it.
I can't imagine allowing this tragedy to define me. I need to emerge from this a better person, a better wife, a better mother. I want to remember my son in a positive way. I want to think of him and smile and know that he made a difference. I can't be sad forever. I can't be angry. I have to believe that I was chosen, that my family was chosen to travel this path for a reason. I have to believe that my baby was taken because I am a person who can make a difference. I am a person who can stand up for a change. I will dig for answers and look for solutions in order for other families to avoid having to go through what we've been through. I need to show my daughter that holding your head up high when all you want to do is fade into the darkness is the right way to overcome adversity. She needs to know that nobody is exempt from pain but how you get through it is what makes you stand apart from the crowd.
It's funny... I never imagined myself being such a fighter. I never thought that I could overcome something as life-altering as losing a baby. I always pictured myself as more of a curl up and die kind of person... but if I were to do that, then what would that say about my son's life? How could I let that be his legacy? I refuse to let my son's death be in vain. I need to feel like his death was for a purpose, even if the wisdom I have gained from losing him helps to save just one other baby, this pain that I have endured will have been worth it.
I can't imagine allowing this tragedy to define me. I need to emerge from this a better person, a better wife, a better mother. I want to remember my son in a positive way. I want to think of him and smile and know that he made a difference. I can't be sad forever. I can't be angry. I have to believe that I was chosen, that my family was chosen to travel this path for a reason. I have to believe that my baby was taken because I am a person who can make a difference. I am a person who can stand up for a change. I will dig for answers and look for solutions in order for other families to avoid having to go through what we've been through. I need to show my daughter that holding your head up high when all you want to do is fade into the darkness is the right way to overcome adversity. She needs to know that nobody is exempt from pain but how you get through it is what makes you stand apart from the crowd.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Struggle
2009-11-23
I feel like life has always been a struggle for me. I remember being a little kid and feeling like I had to work in order for my father to love me. We fought constantly. I always felt like he loved my sister more and was disappointed that I was not a boy. I tried so hard to get him to accept me. I tried to get him to do "boy" things with me so that he would enjoy spending time with me... It was always a struggle...Then I got older and I never really had any friends. I was never a bad person or a mean person but I was shy and had low self-esteem. It was a struggle to get people to want to be with me. Maybe I was a little coddled... My sister always let me get my way so I could be a bit of a whiner but what pre-teen girl isn't?
In my teens and early twenties I was never asked out. I had to pursue the guys, they never pursued me. Though my relationships were long term I always felt like I was more invested. Even now with my boy-friend of seven years. We've been through so much together but I feel like I have to constantly beg for his attention and his affection.
When I was 22 I got pregnant with my daughter. I was never upset or scared. I knew that I was going to be a great mom. My boy-friend had a good job and we were moving in together
and starting a family. Two weeks after we moved in together he lost his job. He quickly started a new one but it was hard to make ends meet for a long time. Then our daughter came along. Our beautiful perfect little girl who means the world to us. One month and one day after her birth I fell down the stairs and broke my ankle in three places. I needed surgery to rebuild the ankle and was hospitalised for 5 days. After that I had to move back in with my parents for two months because I was in a wheel chair and our apartment wasn't wheelchair accessible. Our baby's first Christmas couldn't be spent at home. We continued to struggle for another year or so until my boy-friend got a better job. When I say struggle I don't mean we couldn't afford vacations and new cars. I mean we had to live on Kraft dinner and hot dogs for weeks on end. We had to stretch the diaper budget, we suffered.
Things gradually got better and we moved into a bigger place with a backyard and we bought new cars and things were looking up. I decided that my job was not doing it for me anymore so I moved on and got a new job which turned out to be a nightmare. I'm pretty resilient, though so I moved on and found something better where I was able to climb the corporate ladder to where I am now. That's when we decided to buy a house. We finally settled on building a house. We
met with the builder, we signed the contracts, we were looking forward to a new house the following summer, when all of a sudden construction halted. No new house for at least another year.
We waited patiently and decided to have a go at having another baby. The first month of trying we discovered that I was pregnant with our son.
On July 1st we moved in to our beautiful brand new house and were expecting our son just a few weeks later.
On July 7th I went in for a routine exam only to find out that he had no heartbeat. Our precious baby who was supposed to complete our perfect little family had died 3 weeks before he was suuposed to join us. Our dreams were dashed and we were crushed.
I just don't understand how one person can be expected to struggle financially, emotionally and physically all before the age of 30 and not come out of it feeling bitter and angry. How can a person watch her daughter suffer through such a tremendous loss at such a young age and not feel jipped. How is it fair that one person has to endure all of this heartache while others float through life never having to fight for anything. They say it builds character but I think I have enough. I don't want any more character. I want to float for awhile. I've swam long enough, I've been treading water for years, I think it's time for someone to hand me a life boat.
I feel like life has always been a struggle for me. I remember being a little kid and feeling like I had to work in order for my father to love me. We fought constantly. I always felt like he loved my sister more and was disappointed that I was not a boy. I tried so hard to get him to accept me. I tried to get him to do "boy" things with me so that he would enjoy spending time with me... It was always a struggle...Then I got older and I never really had any friends. I was never a bad person or a mean person but I was shy and had low self-esteem. It was a struggle to get people to want to be with me. Maybe I was a little coddled... My sister always let me get my way so I could be a bit of a whiner but what pre-teen girl isn't?
In my teens and early twenties I was never asked out. I had to pursue the guys, they never pursued me. Though my relationships were long term I always felt like I was more invested. Even now with my boy-friend of seven years. We've been through so much together but I feel like I have to constantly beg for his attention and his affection.
When I was 22 I got pregnant with my daughter. I was never upset or scared. I knew that I was going to be a great mom. My boy-friend had a good job and we were moving in together
and starting a family. Two weeks after we moved in together he lost his job. He quickly started a new one but it was hard to make ends meet for a long time. Then our daughter came along. Our beautiful perfect little girl who means the world to us. One month and one day after her birth I fell down the stairs and broke my ankle in three places. I needed surgery to rebuild the ankle and was hospitalised for 5 days. After that I had to move back in with my parents for two months because I was in a wheel chair and our apartment wasn't wheelchair accessible. Our baby's first Christmas couldn't be spent at home. We continued to struggle for another year or so until my boy-friend got a better job. When I say struggle I don't mean we couldn't afford vacations and new cars. I mean we had to live on Kraft dinner and hot dogs for weeks on end. We had to stretch the diaper budget, we suffered.
Things gradually got better and we moved into a bigger place with a backyard and we bought new cars and things were looking up. I decided that my job was not doing it for me anymore so I moved on and got a new job which turned out to be a nightmare. I'm pretty resilient, though so I moved on and found something better where I was able to climb the corporate ladder to where I am now. That's when we decided to buy a house. We finally settled on building a house. We
met with the builder, we signed the contracts, we were looking forward to a new house the following summer, when all of a sudden construction halted. No new house for at least another year.
We waited patiently and decided to have a go at having another baby. The first month of trying we discovered that I was pregnant with our son.
On July 1st we moved in to our beautiful brand new house and were expecting our son just a few weeks later.
On July 7th I went in for a routine exam only to find out that he had no heartbeat. Our precious baby who was supposed to complete our perfect little family had died 3 weeks before he was suuposed to join us. Our dreams were dashed and we were crushed.
I just don't understand how one person can be expected to struggle financially, emotionally and physically all before the age of 30 and not come out of it feeling bitter and angry. How can a person watch her daughter suffer through such a tremendous loss at such a young age and not feel jipped. How is it fair that one person has to endure all of this heartache while others float through life never having to fight for anything. They say it builds character but I think I have enough. I don't want any more character. I want to float for awhile. I've swam long enough, I've been treading water for years, I think it's time for someone to hand me a life boat.
Alone
2009-08-31 10:19:30
I've been thinking about starting a blog for awhile now but sometimes I think that my thoughts are better left inside my head. Sometimes letting them out hurts more than thinking them...
It's been 54 days since I delivered my beautiful baby boy. My beatiful baby boy who's cry I never got to hear, who's eyes never opened, who's breath I never felt. My little 5 pound 8 ounce angel who I'll never get to know.
Every day goes by and I'm expected to get a little better. I'm expected to hold it all together and move on but on days like this I just can't...
When I imagined my daughter's first day of school I imagined walking there with my beautiful little girl and her gorgeous baby brother. This morning I dropped her off and walked back home alone. No stroller, no baby... just alone. It felt awful. It felt lonely and painful and empty.
Sometimes I feel like I'm going to implode because the pain is so deep that it cause me to dry heave. I can't breathe, I get dizzy, I feel my legs melting into the floor.
Things are not supposed to happen this way. I wasn't supposed to wait nine months and instead of having that moment of extreme pride and happiness I got the opposite. I got "I can't find the heartbeat, nope, he's gone". And just like that my dreams were crushed. The baby boy that I had been waiting for was gone. Out of my life but forever a part of me.
One day I'll go back and write out the story of that fateful day. Not today though... today I need to focus on my current feelings. I knew this day would come. I knew I couldn't keep coasting... there had to be a breaking point. I've had my daughter to keep me busy and upbeat for the last 7 weeks but now that she's back at school I am left alone with my thoughts.
Don't get me wrong I have good days and bad... I probably always will... but there are certain triggers that determine what kind of day it will be and though a bad day may spill over into several days a good day can come and go with one simple little trigger...
Saturday, for example, was a decent day... but my mother went to a baby shower. A baby shower for a distant cousin who is expecting a baby boy... I can't help myself and though, I know that I don't want to hear the answer but I still asked... "wasn't it hard?". And so began my bad
day... and it spilled over into Sunday morning and then I managed to get through Sunday relatively well but the sadness resurfaced on Sunday night... It was the news that yet another person had delivered, you guessed it, a healthy baby boy.
How is that fair? How is it fair that while about a dozen people that I know have been fortunate enough to deliver healthy babies in the last 8 weeks, I have been left to suffer alone? How can people tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself when I have never felt so empty in all my
life... when I look at pictures of our family and wonder if we will ever be that happy again, if we can ever truly be complete without our son...?
I do feel sorry for myself, I do feel sad, I do feel betrayed! I feel betrayed by the higher power that makes these shitty decisions, I feel betrayed by myself for daring to be happy and most of all I feel betrayed by my body for letting this happen... and sometimes I feel betrayed by my baby for leaving me this way.
And now I can add to that list that I feel betrayed by my family for expecting me to move on. I'm angry at S for making me leave the hospital that night before I was ready. I'm angry that he doesn't want to be sad anymore and therefor doesn't want to know that I'm sad. I'm angry that
I'm the only one who has trouble getting out and doing normal every day things... I'm angry that everyone else cried for a week and then moved on with their lives. I'm angry that people pretend not to know when I know damn well that they do. I'm angry at all the idiots who think that ignoring it or pretending that it didn't happen will make it go away. I'm not ready for it to go away. I want to acknowledge that I have a son who died. For me the pain is still real and raw and right there on the surface, ready to escape at any moment. I am not happy when people have babies. I am angry and bitter and jealous... and I hate myself for it. I hope that one day that will change. I hope that one day I will be able to see baby boys and think that they're cute, but for now I just feel like they're a slap in the face. Nature's cruel joke
against me.
I want to be myself again but I just don't think I'm ready yet. I miss my son too much.
I've been thinking about starting a blog for awhile now but sometimes I think that my thoughts are better left inside my head. Sometimes letting them out hurts more than thinking them...
It's been 54 days since I delivered my beautiful baby boy. My beatiful baby boy who's cry I never got to hear, who's eyes never opened, who's breath I never felt. My little 5 pound 8 ounce angel who I'll never get to know.
Every day goes by and I'm expected to get a little better. I'm expected to hold it all together and move on but on days like this I just can't...
When I imagined my daughter's first day of school I imagined walking there with my beautiful little girl and her gorgeous baby brother. This morning I dropped her off and walked back home alone. No stroller, no baby... just alone. It felt awful. It felt lonely and painful and empty.
Sometimes I feel like I'm going to implode because the pain is so deep that it cause me to dry heave. I can't breathe, I get dizzy, I feel my legs melting into the floor.
Things are not supposed to happen this way. I wasn't supposed to wait nine months and instead of having that moment of extreme pride and happiness I got the opposite. I got "I can't find the heartbeat, nope, he's gone". And just like that my dreams were crushed. The baby boy that I had been waiting for was gone. Out of my life but forever a part of me.
One day I'll go back and write out the story of that fateful day. Not today though... today I need to focus on my current feelings. I knew this day would come. I knew I couldn't keep coasting... there had to be a breaking point. I've had my daughter to keep me busy and upbeat for the last 7 weeks but now that she's back at school I am left alone with my thoughts.
Don't get me wrong I have good days and bad... I probably always will... but there are certain triggers that determine what kind of day it will be and though a bad day may spill over into several days a good day can come and go with one simple little trigger...
Saturday, for example, was a decent day... but my mother went to a baby shower. A baby shower for a distant cousin who is expecting a baby boy... I can't help myself and though, I know that I don't want to hear the answer but I still asked... "wasn't it hard?". And so began my bad
day... and it spilled over into Sunday morning and then I managed to get through Sunday relatively well but the sadness resurfaced on Sunday night... It was the news that yet another person had delivered, you guessed it, a healthy baby boy.
How is that fair? How is it fair that while about a dozen people that I know have been fortunate enough to deliver healthy babies in the last 8 weeks, I have been left to suffer alone? How can people tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself when I have never felt so empty in all my
life... when I look at pictures of our family and wonder if we will ever be that happy again, if we can ever truly be complete without our son...?
I do feel sorry for myself, I do feel sad, I do feel betrayed! I feel betrayed by the higher power that makes these shitty decisions, I feel betrayed by myself for daring to be happy and most of all I feel betrayed by my body for letting this happen... and sometimes I feel betrayed by my baby for leaving me this way.
And now I can add to that list that I feel betrayed by my family for expecting me to move on. I'm angry at S for making me leave the hospital that night before I was ready. I'm angry that he doesn't want to be sad anymore and therefor doesn't want to know that I'm sad. I'm angry that
I'm the only one who has trouble getting out and doing normal every day things... I'm angry that everyone else cried for a week and then moved on with their lives. I'm angry that people pretend not to know when I know damn well that they do. I'm angry at all the idiots who think that ignoring it or pretending that it didn't happen will make it go away. I'm not ready for it to go away. I want to acknowledge that I have a son who died. For me the pain is still real and raw and right there on the surface, ready to escape at any moment. I am not happy when people have babies. I am angry and bitter and jealous... and I hate myself for it. I hope that one day that will change. I hope that one day I will be able to see baby boys and think that they're cute, but for now I just feel like they're a slap in the face. Nature's cruel joke
against me.
I want to be myself again but I just don't think I'm ready yet. I miss my son too much.
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