Like yesterday, visiting my brother at his new house. We walked in the door and a strange look came over his face. "Ahhh X is about to come over, she has to pick something up".
X would be his girlfriend's heavily pregnant sister. Her first baby.
"Ahh, why didn't you tell me?" I yelped. My brother said he hadn't planned it like that and that he was sorry.
Vomit rising up in my throat, I backed out the door and just told Simon to get in the car and drive. I didn't want to see her. I've never even met her. But I did not want to see her.
No really, I'm coping. Yup, I really am. Sure.
And I somehow think I'm going to be able to hold it all together to go and visit my best friend's baby, whenever he or she may arrive. And for the record, she's five days overdue now and my anxiety levels are through the roof. Probably unwarranted though, I'm sure all will be fine.
I really wish it would happen soon. Probably not as much as she does though.....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whenever I think back to my happy nine months carrying Hope, I can't connect it to what happened and what I'm feeling now.
I think back to my pregnancy and smile. I get warm and fuzzy feelings when I remember myself out there, stroking my belly and shopping for a pram, or clothes or a breast pump
I remember how joyful it felt to lie on that bed with the midwives at each appointment and hear her heart flutter away.
My heart explodes with love when I remember what it felt like to have her thump around inside of me.
Then I think about what happened and where I am now, and I can't join the two events. To be that happy then end up being this sad, surely it is not real? Surely this did not happen to me.
People have said to try and cling on to the happy memories. To look back and remember and smile. But that's the thing with a stillbirth, there is nothing really to cling on to. The brutal end coming before the joyous beginning. I only have those nine months when I did not even really know her. I mean I thought I was having a boy! I really did, the whole way through. At times I even thought I really wanted a boy. And to see she was a girl after she emerged, I felt awful. All this time to get to know this little soul and I'd had her gender wrong. If she was born alive, it would have never mattered. As I'd have had the rest of her life to get to know her and make up for thinking about all the toy trucks I'd buy her and blue clothes I'd dress her in while I carried her.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, most of the time I am still in shock. I still can't believe this is how it ended. That I went five days overdue and I have nothing to show for it. Some pictures, a lock of hair and quilt she was wrapped in, and that's it.
Even though I continue to put one foot in front of the other, I still can't really believe it. In my silent house each night, I still listen out for her cry. I still can't believe she's not here.
Oh I miss her.
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sally, i know too well those feelings. being so ecstatic and then plunged into this nighmare. and i still often feel like it's all unreal, while i'm telling someone what happened, i look down at myself and think, this can't be me, how could it have turned out so tragically.
ReplyDeletei am proud of you for leaving your brother's house.
xo
a
When you are ready, you will deal with pregnant women. For now, coping is leaving. It's a sensible response. You don't have to suck it up, you've sucked up enough.
ReplyDeleteWhat happens is tragic and sudden and horrible. It takes our hearts and brains a long time to even begin to get a grip on it. I'm not convinced I will ever fully understand why Gabe died.
I still get jealous of pregnant woman. It is hard for me to even acknowledge their pregnancies. We were kind of hit by a train when we were expecting to be hit by a butterfly, it's shocking and we're still reeling from it. I still expect my baby home too. The only think we can take comfort in was our happiness to be pregnant and how excited we were to be mothers, at least we have that.
ReplyDelete(hugs)
You just do whatever it is that you need to do to cope.
ReplyDeleteJust hang on tight to those 9 months of happiness.
She was so beautiful Sally.
xxx
Sally I am so sorry. I miss my baby girl really badly right now too. It's not fair.
ReplyDeleteYou are being so strong and so brave. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. That's all we can try to do.
Thinking of you.
For the most part, I still can't deal with pregnant women either (with the exception, I'm finding, of women pregnant after a loss like ours...).
ReplyDeleteThat disconnect is so present for me too - how did the absolutely most joyous time in my life turn into the depths of despair? At the end of the day, I think we all just come back to that disbelief...how did we get here?
xoxo
s
Just one minute at a time right now-- that's all you can do.
ReplyDeleteIt was really hard for me, after Sophie died, to even talk to my pregnant best friend.
Someday you will be able to, though. Just one day at a time. Thinking of you.
I'm sorry life is such a mine field right now. I like to think it'll get better, but I'm not sure what better is yet.
ReplyDeleteYou hit the nail on the head about the disbelief. It's still hard to convince myself I'm not going to wake up and find this is all a bad dream.
The invisible, unplanned triggers are the worst. They could somehow launch me to a place I didn't even know existed.
ReplyDeletebig hugs and tears.
Shockingly big bellies and baby girls tucked into their carseats.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I look at pictures and wonder what the heck happened.
kimberlee (link from glow in the woods)
I know. I feel like I entered a parallel universe the day my baby died. Not sure how to get back....
ReplyDeleteI don't know what to say Sally.I don't know if the disbelief ever goes away.
ReplyDeleteI also don't think the disbelief ever leaves. I still can't believe I am "that woman". It shocks me every time I say the words to myself,'My first baby died."
ReplyDeleteAs for the other babies, I'm so glad you fled your brother's house... good for you. And as for your best friend, I was surprised that it felt good for me to hold a baby where it was okay for me to hold the baby and just weep, weep, weep. If your best friend will let you do that, just let you cry, and if she will let you say in the same sentence, "I'm so glad that you get this, but I'm even more sad for myself that I was denied this," then that baby may be less awful then you expect. Now, if the situation is more complicated, you can throw that idea out the window... but I found that with the people with whom I could be honest, with whom I had already shared that "this will be hard for me", it was better than I thought.
xox
Love
Carol