Tuesday, April 2, 2013
April 2, 2013 - Six weeks and four days
Joe was stillborn a little over six weeks ago. I am not equipped to deal with losing a baby. A child. A person whose every cell came from my own body save for one.
I can’t remember how pregnant I should be. I try to do the math and my brain stops working. I just know I should be pregnant and something is terribly, terribly wrong.
I’ve been having panic attacks again. Trouble sleeping, trouble eating. All the stuff I had gotten a handle on and they are back with a vengeance. The good news is that I am an old pro at battling depression. In a way, maybe being a survivor long before I ever got pregnant has prepared me for this.
I have to admit – I thought I had done my time. After the years of sexual abuse and physical abuse and mental abuse – I really believed my life had turned around for the better and it would be mostly smooth sailing. Through the entire pregnancy I felt like this was happening to someone else somewhere for real but when the time came, I would have a miracle baby who beat the odds and wouldn’t have any of the problems the doctors were sure he would have.
Life just keeps on trucking. Doesn’t matter how I feel or how bad I want things to slow down so I can catch my breath. The advice I keep getting is ‘do the work’ and ‘sit with the grief.’ It’s as if they don’t know I’m already carrying it around with me everywhere I go. I can’t outrun it. I can only try to run with it strapped to my back. This is who I am now. A mother of two who only kisses one of them goodnight.
Yes I am very grateful for H but that guilt-laced approach of telling me how worse other people have it or be thankful for what you have – does NOTHING for grief. It doesn’t make Joe any less gone.
I have given myself permission to be impatient, bitchy, standoffish, unreliable, late, emotional, irrational, needy, clingy, ridiculous, irresponsible, impulsive, weepy, sad, infuriated, suspicious, contemplative, sleepy, high, drunk, repulsed, cold, bitter, annoying, obsessive, tactile, spacey, jealous, vengeful…and that’s all before second breakfast.
I get the feeling that’s been the key to healing all this time. Taking care of myself first. Honoring my feelings even if they’re ugly. If that’s what I’m supposed to learn from all this, great, I’m done. I’d like my son back now please.
Trisomy 13 grief stillbirth MaterniT21 loss Patau syndrome Maine midwives cleft palate coarctation of the aorta incompatible with life omphalocele polydactyly pregnancy after loss rainbow rocker bottom feet termination thickened nuchal fold Irish twins MFM Maine Medical Center Maternal Fetal Medicine Trisomy 21 anxiety rainbow baby All About Women EMT Edward's Syndrome IUFD Irish blessing MMC Mainecare Mercy Mercy Hospital NICU Obamacare PTSD Patau's Portland Trisomy 18 baby loss bereaved moms birth plan blessings changing providers coping defects depression home birth mediums memorial for stillborn baby pregnancy shamrock sign language silver nitrate state screenings survivor ultrasound