Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Grief


It’s been a rough, rough day.  Beyond my wildest nightmares!  I keep thinking of my little tiny baby and it has killed a part of me knowing that it’s gone. 

James and I talked and talked tonight after Andrew finally went to sleep.  I feel like we were mostly going in circles, because ultimately there is no way of getting any real answers for why this had to happen.  James is very scientific so I think he has a bit of an easier time with it, knowing that statistically and genetically it’s just a common and, sadly, normal thing for this sort of thing to happen.  He’s of course sad, most especially at the loss of the idea of the baby that we were supposed to be having in about 6 months time.  And he worries a lot about me and how this affects me, more so than how it affects him.

Which I think is totally natural – that the mother feels there is more at stake.  I was the one growing the baby inside me, and while I hadn’t felt actual kicks since it was too early for that, I do feel I had bonded with the baby in my own way.  I felt everything as the weeks went on, my gawd just a few weeks ago I posted a picture of myself with a pregnant belly!  It has gone down some since this afternoon, though it’s still there.  That’s a hard thing for me, to look at myself and think I still LOOK like I should be pregnant, but ultimately I can feel the emptiness inside of me.  I know I’m NOT pregnant anymore, when literally just a few hours ago I was.  And it hurts.  A LOT.

James thought of the ‘baby’ more as a ‘fetus’ and therefore not truly a baby yet.  Not a person, at least.  Whereas I feel that I lost my baby.  My BABY died inside of me.  I feel that loss so severely.  I think part of me wanted to take it out of the toilet because I wanted to look at it more closely, to see what it looked like, to see if maybe I could tell if it was a boy or girl.  Whereas James feels that would be too much personalizing.  Too much attaching to a fetus that isn’t developing any further into a human being.

But to me, it’s as though I can project so much into the future of what I felt should have been in store for this child – a whole lifetime just like the long lifetime that I expect for Andrew.  I had it somewhat, you could say, all mapped out.  To the point that when I think about my little baby, that tiny little fetus, I feel the loss of its entire life that it never got the chance to actually live.

I feel such a strong attachment to a person that I ultimately wasn’t given the chance to actually know.  It was my baby, how could I not be attached?  I was growing it inside of me, nurturing him or her, and then they for whatever reason didn’t survive.  I long to know who they were and it makes me cry uncontrollably knowing that I will never have the answers to that.  But I still know that my baby is someone to me, and always will be.  I told James that if IF we do decide to try again (not for several months at least, as I’d want to feel emotionally and physically ready and I can’t see that happening any time soon) and say that pregnancy does go to term (it had better, my gawd I don’t want to go through anything like this again) – I would still feel as though I had 3 children, not just two.  I have had 2 children already.  I wasn’t expecting to have had the second already, that’s for sure, but there’s no mistaking that I did birth a child today.  Just not in the way it is meant to happen.  Not in a happy way.

James and I both want to do something to pay tribute to this baby, but I am right now having a really hard time thinking what that ‘something’ could be.  Mainly because our baby doesn’t even have a name, an identity.  I don’t like the idea of it just being thought of as our dead fetus at 11 weeks.  It is so much more to me than that.  Yet I don’t feel comfortable giving it an actual name when I didn’t even know if it was a boy or girl or who it really was.  There wasn’t time for that, and even though I want them to have some kind of identity beyond just ‘fetus’, I don’t know that I could actually give them a proper name.

All I know is that for the 11 weeks that I carried the baby, and for the few seconds that I actually got to see it, it is precious to me beyond words.  I want to feel as if there is ‘something’ that signifies them.  I don’t know what, and I know it’s very early to even be considering this sort of thing.  But I want my baby to be remembered, because I know they’re always going to be important to me, even for what little time we had.

That last moment of having the baby just taken away so suddenly is really having a very terrible effect on me.  I keep seeing that one instance and it takes my breath away.  I can’t believe how the whole thing panned out.  It’s just too horrible for words.  Yet I wouldn’t want to be a crazy person, either, who is attached to an actual fetus, as in wanting to take it home with me or something.  As James put it, what WOULD I ultimately have done with it if I HAD managed to get a hold of it?  I know I would have looked at it closer, and given it some sort of a goodbye, just held it in my hand.  But ultimately it’s true that I don’t know what I would have done with it from there.  I don’t think it would be a healthy thing to bring that home with me, yet I wouldn’t have personally chosen to have it flushed down the toilet, either.  If I gave it to a doctor, they’d throw it in the garbage or wherever that sort of thing is disposed of.  There is no good place for it.  It’s traumatizing no matter how I look at it, and I really REALLY need to work through that aspect of it and stop dwelling on what could have been.  I wanted James to see it too, but I don’t actually think he wanted to, as he seemed to think it would be too traumatizing.  I definitely found the whole thing very startling, but I’m happy to have at least caught a glimpse.  I will always have some image of my baby, even if it’s not how I ever imagined they would be.

It still feels like such a nightmare, and of course it does, it only happened earlier today.  It feels like it just happened 5 seconds ago and in other ways it feels like it has been years already.  It’s all so exhausting, but I can’t get it out of my head.

We told Andrew.  Not what actually happened, but he asked me why I was sad after going to the hospital.  Actually, the way he put it was, ‘Who was bugging you there?’  LOL  His way of putting things really does help me feel better, because he’s just so undeniably funny and cute.  I said that no one was ‘bugging me’ at the hospital, but that I was feeling really sad because the baby that was in my belly had to go away.  For all the times he has said he ‘didn’t want it’, he was visibly upset, and said, ‘But I want a baby!’  I said I know, and that we do too, and we hope that he will still be a big brother someday, but it’s just not going to happen when we thought it would.  Not as soon.  He said, ‘You still have baby in your belly?’ and I said, ‘No, I don’t.  The baby couldn’t stay.’  He actually let out a bit of a sob and threw his arms around me, and kissed my cheek.  He said, ‘But I wanted THAT baby.’  And I said, ‘We did too, but it just wasn’t meant to be.  But hopefully we’ll still have one, one day, and maybe by then we’ll all be more ready so it will be the right time for all of us.’  Satisfied with that answer, he said, ‘I want to watch a show now.’  I have to admit, I’m kind of glad that he’s as young as he is, and as sensitively as he can take news sometimes, ultimately he doesn’t have to face the same grief that we do.

I know we’ll get through this in time, I just don’t think I’m ever going to be quite the same.

1 comment:

Smelly Danielly said...

My cousin, who also happens to be named Andrew, died in a car accident when he was 7 years old. It was the hardest thing my family has ever had to face. It was especially hard, of course, for my Aunt and Uncle. One thing that they did do, to help with the healing process, was that they planted a small tree in their back yard so that they could watch it grow and mature, which was kind of symbolic of the fact that they weren't able to watch Andrew grow and mature any more. Not that the tree replaced him or anything but it represented him. It is an absolutly beautiful tree now and everytime I see it, I think of him. It doesn't have to have a name, or any special sign or symbol, it can just be something you watch grow, where you can go to mourn and remember.



blogger template by lovebird