No, it fu*k!ng doesn't. You just learn to live with the pain. It's still a huge gaping wound that sometimes opens and spills vile puss and hurts like hell. It's an ugly, unsightly thing that won't ever leave you and won't ever stop hurting. There are days when I don't notice the pain so much, and there are days when I would cut the wound out of my skin with a steaknife to stop the pain. Sometimes I think I can live with it, then I bump it and it hurts like a fiery hot poker stuck in my eye. That bastard keeps hurting for days, until it slowly fades away to a manageable ache that can be tolerated.
I hate my infertility and hate that my daughter is dead. By every other account, I have a great life. A wonderful, loving, doting husband who I'm madly attracted to. A beautiful house on the water with 'vacation-like' views. A wonderful network of friends and family who support me in good times and in bad - who were there for me in every sense of the word when Kara died. I have a great job where I work from home and am paid well to do so. The bonus is that I'm able to attend to the time demands of IVF, which is a huge benefit to me since it's the only way I'll ever get pregnant again. I have a great boss who gives me a ton of space and whose company and guidance I both like and appreciate. SO what's the problem you ask?
My life should be so different right now. I should have my beautiful 1-year old daughter here on Earth, with her father and I. I hate how she was taken from us at 37.5 weeks. I hate that I have a grave to tend to instead of a baby to care for. I hate that I cry almost every day, and can never imagine my life being any different. I hate that I am on my 7th IVF this month, and despite a full-term pregnancy, still have no baby to show for it.
I hate my life these days. I want to sell the house, quit my job and find a new place to start over. (As if that will allow me to get pregnant and possibly have a live baby to show for it.) I hate that I have no control over the only thing in my life that matters to me right now - my inability to have a child. I had a child, I did. But she died before I could give birth to her. How am I supposed to live with this? How does one go on, incorporating this raw grief into their existence so that it doesn't rip them apart every minute of every day?
I had hoped that at 1 year I would have figured it out. Figured out how to live with this festering, ugly wound without it ruining my life. But it has ruined my life, and I am powerless to stop it. I refuse to ignore the pain, the rawness, the loss. It is, she was, and I am still (in love with her, missing her, hurting for her, longing for her.) My life is really nothing without her and I would be kidding myself, deluding myself, if I pretended otherwise.
9 comments:
I hear you on all of it, and I am so desperately sorry. Time doesn't heal, it just takes us further away I have come to learn. And I'm not sure that is always a good thing. Sometimes I miss the intensity of those first days and weeks, where she still felt so close, where I could still smell her on the shirt I birthed her in. She feels so far away now. Wherever she is, I hope she's safe and happy with sweet baby Kara. Forever missed, the world over.
Hi Kara's Mom,
I came over from Kate's blog. I'm so sorry about your loss and I'm sorry that you are hurting so badly. I too lost my precious baby in March and I have days that are so dark I don't want to live. The hope of bringing a live baby home from the hospital is what pulls me through to the next day. Sending you a hug.
Bree
i hear you babette. i feel exactly the same. i hate this life too, and there are many good things about it, but the one thing i wanted most is gone. it should all be so very different for us. we should have our babies here, celebrating 1st birthdays, not visiting graves and trying to get pregnant again. it's just too fucking awful. and time doesn't heal at all, it just makes it more real. time and life are moving forward without our babies.
sending you love
(((Hugs))) I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry for your losses. I'm 41 and infertile. We've been trying for years with no luck. 3 IVF's and several IUI's. Your stories are heartbreaking. I too am miserable. I can't imagine the death of a child. I just have to believe that God has some sort of plan for us. There must be a reason for all of this pain. But I do struggle to keep the faith sometimes.
((((((hugs))))))
My son should have been 11 months old today. It has been over 5 months since he's been gone and each day seems to be harder than the last. Thank you for this post. I'm sick of hearing "time heals all wounds" too. I'm not seeing that at all right now. All I can feel is the pain and want to curl up and die.
((HUGS))
I'm sorry, B.
Nearly two years after my baby girl died, I'm still angry, miserable and missing her. Time hasn't healed anything. All time has done is enchance my ability to lie and pretend to live a normal life.
Time doesn't heal. I don't know that it ever will. I still miss my daughter and my son just as much as I did on those days that I lost them.
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