Losing my baby has shaken me to my very core; physcially, emotionally, spiritually, socially, I am a new person. There are things I don't much like about my 'new' self. Here are a few:
*Physcially, I still have 15lbs of pregnancy weight - my body is changed. I don't enjoy physical activity/working out like I used to (I still do it, but I hate it.) I hate my body, hate shopping for clothes. My favorite pasttimes used to be shopping & working out - now I hate both.
*Emotionally, I feel like my skin has been ripped off and my body is just raw nerves. I cry easily and have physcial reactions to innocent questions like 'do you have children?' In my profession (sales) I am asked this question at least once weekly. It never fails to make my breath catch in my throat.
*Socially, I am insecure and uninterested in conversation. I miss my friends, but don't wish to be with them either. None of them have suffered a loss. I feel ostracized; an outcast. I am the mother whose child died. I will always be this mother and I am acutely aware of how others must view me. When visiting friends/family, my eyes hungrily roam the room searching for baby photos when no one is paying attention. Everyone has a baby who was born near the same time as my baby. I fantasize about how Kara would look now. I awkwardly hold their baby, wondering if Kara would be this big/quiet/fussy, thinking how wonderful it feels to hold a baby. It must feel 100 times better when it's your own.
*Spiritually, I question why God allowed this to happen. I struggle with my faith and my anger at Him, daily. I am sure of His existence, and I will do my damndest to get to Heaven to be reuinted with my child. I've stopped attending Mass because to stare at a baby for an hour is torture. I struggle with the 'why' every day.
I've changed in another way, too. I've never taken friendship lightly and so my friendship vetting process can be rigorous (according to my husband.) But once we are friends, I support and defend you to the end. When Kara died, I found out who my true friends were, and I still hurt thinking of those who weren't there for me. I thought I picked my friends well. I thought we would always be there for each other. Obviously my vetting wasn't rigorous enough. It hurts to know that people you love, haven't even thought about you while you were struggling just to stay alive. When you were curled up in that fetal position for 2 months on the couch, they never rang or emailed to tell you they were thinking of you. All the tears I've cried...there are oceans between us now. I am hurt and angry. I will be more careful about who I let into my life. I know that when it comes to friends, quality not quantity matters most. But it still hurts when you are rejected and ignored when you're hanging onto life by your fingernails. I will never speak to those people again, nor acknowledge their emails at this point. It's been 8.5 months - where the hell have you been? To that end, I deactivated my Facebook account. Who needs all these people popping in from grammar school asking how you've been and if you have kids? no thanks.
That's the end of my rant for today.
10 comments:
i can relate on many points- i think i have an extra 20+lbs on me, i hate my body, but also just don't care enough to do anything about it. i have lost friends and learned who my real ones are as well. it's all so interesting, sometimes i feel like it's like a sociological study of how people deal with tragedy and who's left when your baby dies, and major anger at god...i'm here for you anytime.
ps. kara is so beautiful
Seems cliched to say, but I really could have written this myself. The friends thing has blown me away. Aliza is right, it is like a social experiment.
I can relate to much of this too. I haven't too many friends left from before, they seem to expect me to be "over it" by now.
I am eternally grateful for the new friends I have made here who understand.
xxx
I'm grateful that there are others that understand but I wish I was the only one struggling with friendships, relationships and faith. I the way you phrased it- there are oceans between you now. Even though things are ok for me right now I know at any given moment I can feel the grief taking over and see myself withdrawing from everything around me. Kara is beautiful too, thank you for noticing Levi's picture. I love the gifts that Kara gave you too!
((hugs))
Here from Barbara's blog, I'm so sorry for the loss of your beautiful daughter.
I don't understand why people treat the loss of a child like the flu, something to "get over".
I am so sorry for the loss of your daughter. Thanks for writing. I think this post has so much I can relate to.
I hate pregnancy weight. Especially when there's no baby to use as an excuse.
I've only been asked two times "How's the baby" and not yet if I have kids, and I can't imagine facing that dreaded question on a weekly basis. I fear it now, and I practice answering that question.
I feel socially hollow and I feel like a stare at babies a little too long...
Christmas, celebrating the birth of a baby boy, was too hard, even though I believe he's why I get to see Desmond again. I took last Christmas off.
And I know some people are terrified of grief. They can't enter into our grief, or they don't want to. That sucks. I hope the friends who stuck around bring much support and love and many many hugs!
(Sorry-this ran long!)
I'm sorry your friends hurt you. It's amazing how people's true colors come out in times like this. I hope you are having a good day today, **HUG**
It never ceases to amaze me that I wasn't the only one totally abandoned in the first few months after Janaki died and now continuously... I don't trust anyone enough now, I really don't care that I've lost all my friends and only a handful care to listen. Grief is a terrible burden without having to try and force yourself to be happy so that others feel comfortable.
As always...I hear you on everything else. the weight, the questioning G-d or whoever. emotionally... a wreck.
you're not alone.
can you believe my word verification is "sublubb" - sub love?? is this a good omen, B? ha. we freaking wish.
Hugs to you...
I am new to your blog - I believe you are one of only a few who read mine (thank you for that). I am so sorry for your loss.
Your post is something I relate to and think about quite a bit. One of the hardest things for me was coming to terms with the change in ME. I am not the same person I was before. Now, that seems like a big "no duh." Of course something like this changes you. I just never could have imagined how much. But it took me awhile to realize I was not only grieving the loss of my baby, but the loss of who I was before. I think we grieve for our babies, and for the who we were and the life we imagined and hoped for for. Its so hard.
I'm sorry friends have let you down. I experienced some of that too. But mostly I was lucky in that department. ((hugs))
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