It's been 10 days since I fell into the pit, and I'm finally starting to climb back out. Babyloss land is full of perils and pitfalls. The intense grief can strike at any moment and leave you breathless and wanting to die. The grief is always there, lurking just below the surface. Depending on how strong I am on any given day (or at any given moment) I can either feel the sadness and tuck it away, or dissolve into tears and intense grief which can last anywhere from moments to hours to days, even a week or more.
I just can't believe this is my life - my daughter died before birth and I must live the rest of my life missing her and dissolving into tears when I think of the tragedy of the situation. At times, it feels surreal, and I feel like I'm 'coping' with her death. At other times, when I really let myself feel, I can't cope at all. My husband recently said 'The sadness is always right there. It's something I have to fight every moment of every day, or else I would constantly cry.' I don't mean to sound self-pitying; I don't feel sorry for myself that the rest of my life is going to be like this. I am overwhelmed with sadness when I think of all that we lost and that Kara lost in her death. I know I'll never fully accept it and I know I'll have to fight the despair and sadness for the rest of my life. It can't be otherwise for the parent of a dead baby or child. My sadness and despair is a reflection of my love for her, and I have to accept this part of my life as it is. I will always have a hole in my heart for her, and I will always have periods of intense grief over losing her.
Even though I've been there countless times over the past 8 months, I live in dread of every trip back to the pit. I know I'm going there again, I just don't know when. It's a dark, lonely place full of tears, anxiety and longing for death. Emotionally, I crawl into a deep hole and can't find my way out for days. It's like being pulled out to sea by a strong current. I have no control over where I'm going, no free choice in whether to go at all. I am adrift at sea, alone and frightened. My husband holds and comforts me to no end, but the current is sweeping me further and further away from shore. When I finally return to land, days of crying have left me exhausted and spent. My eyes are swollen and my body & mind are exhausted. I fear the next time, because I know there will be many more.
Today I am out of the pit. That's not to say there were no tears today. Just that I'm out of the pit and dreading the next trip.
3 comments:
This is the type of post that has inspired my most recent post. I never feel alone reading your words, you are right where I am. And I am right where you are. I'm glad you're out of the pit for now. I am too, and hope to stay out of it for a while now. It is debilitating being in there.
I'm very glad you're slowly getting back out of the pit. I hate being in there as much as I love it's blackness because it is my comfort zone now (this post-dead future life's a real bitch). But, when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you. The pit is too tempting.
I hope you stay away from the pit for a while...
xx
its* even - I hate apostrophe errors!!
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