It is a heavy load to carry when you are living every parents' worst nightmare.
Even my friends who say they can't imagine what I'm going through, really, they can. But they just wont allow themselves to go there. I guess their minds protect them from this ultimate horror. They shut off from it, push those evil thoughts away and carry on with their lives. For they can't imagine living without their precious child/ren. The very life I am living now. The unimaginable. A nightmare, in every sense of the word.
It is also a heavy load to carry knowing the worst day of your life, is the worst day of many peoples' lives. And it happened to me, not them. I've had a few people tell me the day they heard Hope died was the worst day of their lives. This brings me no comfort. In fact it just makes me ache. And ache and ache and ache.
I mean everyone's worst day is their worst day, their own worst experience is theirs alone, but I'd like to swap my own worst experience for someone else's. Please. People lose parents, grandparents, friends, aunties and uncles all too early, but generally speaking, they go in the right order. In a just world where things are fair and people die old and happy. Not before they are born. Not before they open their eyes, draw breath, receive a kiss from their mother. Not before they are born.
It is also a heavy load to carry hearing others complain about their problems in life. So trivial, so minor, so pathetic. I just feel like screaming at some people, "you think you got troubles, come and try and be me for a day. I'll show you troubles". So many people I know just don't realise how lucky they really are. I feel like I'll be the judge of what a real problem is these days. Most just don't stack up.
It is also a heavy load to carry when healthy babies keep being born all around you, all the time, every day to so many people you know. It is hard to even be remotely happy when you are so sad. It is hard to take joy from this moment when you are suffering a world of pain.
It is also hard, when so many of these lovely babies being born, to so many close to you, are girls. Girls, girls, girls everywhere. Lovely, precious little baby girls. Innocent and sweet.
And mine is gone. Big, healthy (apart from those last 48 hours), chubby, cherub-cheeked, fully formed, pretty and perfect. Gone, gone, gone.
It is with a heavy heart that I will go and visit my best friend and her baby today. Another little girl. AL. I bet she's beautiful like her big brother was when he was born. I suspected early on she'd have another boy, but as soon as I lost my darling Hope, I just knew she'd have a girl. Just to keep adding to my pain, just to make this story as shitty as it could possibly be. Just another irony to add to my ever growing list.
Normally the news of a new baby would make me jump and squeal. I jumped last night when I got the news. Right out of the chair at the restaurant we were at. I burst in to tears, left my half eaten meal and walked home.
I didn't sleep last night. Restless and anxious. Sad but trying to find small moments of happiness for my friend and her family. But mostly sad. Sad, sad, sad. And just missing my daughter more than I ever knew possible. Wishing that I really wasn't living in this nightmare. Wishing I could wake up from it all. Wishing I could just rewind the clock and have our time again.
I'D GO BACK TO THAT HOSPITAL. I'D DEMAND TO BE INDUCED. I'D HAVE A C-SECTION. I'D DO WHAT EVER I COULD TO GET HER HERE SAFE.
I'D GO BACK.
I'D GO BACK.
I'D GO BACK.
I'D MAKE SURE SHE WAS SAVED.
I'D GO BACK.
My heart is so heavy today. There is such a heavy load on my shoulders. I feel like I'm drowning. I'm really struggling to come up for air.
Baby Hope I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't get you here safely like all those other little babies. I'm so sorry you wont get to meet them, to play with them all, to steal their toys and fruit. I'm sorry you wont get to grow up with A. Mummy loves you. She misses you. I'm just so sorry my body did this to you. I'm sorry if you were trying to let me know you were sick and I didn't do anything about it. I'm sorry if you suffered. I hope you didn't suffer sweet baby. I'm so very, very sorry. Please forgive me. Please know I love you. I miss you my sweet baby girl.
This is such a heavy burden to carry.
#MicroblogMondays: Olympic hangover
7 hours ago
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My goodness I wish I could make it better for you. Do you have to visit your friend REALLY!! I know you care and are trying to do the right thing..but really its just too raw isn't it. I wish I could tell you that the pain lessens and you will find a way through this. But really that probably means shit and you want to yell at me too. So sorry you are in this hell. We all care SO much and you are not alone.
ReplyDeleteOh, Sally. If there were anything any of us could say or do to make the pain even a little less, you'd have it in a minute. Please don't push yourself too hard to feel anything but what you're feeling about Airlie's birth. Your friend will simply have to understand.
ReplyDeleteMy heart is with you.
I wish you would't go visit you friend at this time in your grief. If she was any kind of friend SHE WOULD UNDERSTAND. This is too much for you right now. Please be kind to yourself and let your grief take its own course and not rush into anything that you are not mentally and physically ready for.
ReplyDelete=Connie
just to add, i have to visit my friend. i want to visit my friend. we've shared everything for 20+ years, this is no different. she was there at the hospital for two days when i lost and birthed hope. 20 weeks preg, that would not have been easy for her. i have to go.
ReplyDeleteHon, you don't have to do anything. I mean it. You don't. nd Daydreaming is right, she's going to understand.
ReplyDeleteHope knows how much you love her, she knows that not a day goes by that you don't think of her, she knows that her name is always on your lips, and is carved on your heart. She knows you would have done anything to save her.
Give yourself time and space and permission to feel what you feel when you do visit your friend. I had a hard time visiting friends who had had babies after Henry died. I did go, but often with a delay. Even when my sister had her baby, I couldn't go see her right away. I needed to see these friends and their babies, as hard as it was. But it is still so early for you. I hope your friend understands how hard this is and can accept that you are happy for her even if you grieve your loss of Hope while you are with her.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could turn back the clock too, for you and for me, and for all of us...xoxo
ReplyDeleteOh God Sally I hope you are ok. I wish I could take you in in there and drive you home. I know you are so determined to do this.
ReplyDeleteI'm waiting for you to get home. I will talk with you when you come online.
Love you
x
I guess hindsight is 20/20. And while we think that we could change things, maybe the outcome would be the same. We'll just never know. A live baby isn't guaranteed when you get induced or have a c-section. I am sorry you are having little girls and happiness all around you, I am in the same boat as you. Everywhere I go, I see happy pregnant woman or baby boys. I am the raincloud to everyone's rainbow. It is a heavy burden to carry, one that I thought I was too weak to carry the weight, but I guess it takes a strong mom to carry their baby in their heart. We are strong.
ReplyDelete(hugs)
You couldn't have known and it wasn't your job to know. You did everything you could to take care of Hope. The failure was on the medical caretakers, not you. Te looking back and the what if's are so hard to deal with, this I know, all too well...it sucks.
ReplyDeleteI still feel the stabs when I see new babies, even after having my own. I think I always will. They will always remind me of the one who got away. The babies and the pregnant ladies.
xxoo
(((hugs)))
ReplyDeleteI still can't tolerate the little dramas of others. And I really don't appreciate comments like 'oh, you're going out for New Year's eve - you're so lucky to get to do adult things!' yes, because I like mourning my daughter. I would much rather be going to bed at 8 on NYE.