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.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Monday, March 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Back to Square One
Yesterday I saw a new Psychiatrist. The last one kind of pissed me off so I found a new one. After discussing my loss and describing my grief and resulting mood swings, he asked me a question that I still can't get out of my mind. He asked "What was your family life like as a child?" I asked "With respect to...specifically?" (I had no idea what this had to do with grief over the loss of my daughter.) He replied "Having a family, getting married. Was it ever discussed at home? Did your parents expect you to have a family?" I replied "Not really. It wasn't expected and it wasn't really discussed. I thought I didn't want children until about 5 years ago when I was 35." "Do you have a lot of guilt about that?" I replied "yes." He said "How much of that is driving this need to have a child?" WTF? Here's how I heard it: "Why did you wait so long to have your first child? What the fuck is wrong with you???"
Do I have a lot of guilt about waiting to have children until I was ready? I didn't get married until I was 36! At 37 we began trying to conceive and 18 months of infetility treatments later, I conceived. 9 months later, I lost my daughter just 12 days before her due date.
YES I FEEL GUILTY. I feel like shit. I've wasted my fertile years and worry that I'll never have a live child of my own. I always thought there would be time. I thought once we stopped using contraception, we'd get pregnant. I was stupid and naive. Yes, I feel guilty. Thanks for bringing that up for me to obsess over, again. I am 40 and still trying to conceive using my own, old eggs. I am desperate to have a live child. Desperate to have my daughter back, alive. Desperate to turn back the clock and make things right. I can't sleep at night worrying about the future.
I can't get those questions out of my head. He validated my fears and worries, my regrets. He gave them clout and made them significant again for me. It's back to square one for me.
Do I have a lot of guilt about waiting to have children until I was ready? I didn't get married until I was 36! At 37 we began trying to conceive and 18 months of infetility treatments later, I conceived. 9 months later, I lost my daughter just 12 days before her due date.
YES I FEEL GUILTY. I feel like shit. I've wasted my fertile years and worry that I'll never have a live child of my own. I always thought there would be time. I thought once we stopped using contraception, we'd get pregnant. I was stupid and naive. Yes, I feel guilty. Thanks for bringing that up for me to obsess over, again. I am 40 and still trying to conceive using my own, old eggs. I am desperate to have a live child. Desperate to have my daughter back, alive. Desperate to turn back the clock and make things right. I can't sleep at night worrying about the future.
I can't get those questions out of my head. He validated my fears and worries, my regrets. He gave them clout and made them significant again for me. It's back to square one for me.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Aching, Missing, Sad
When will I feel like living again? Will this empty, aching sadness ever leave me? At times I feel like my chest will explode with the heartache and emptiness of losing my daughter. I have no will to live and wish I could just disappear.
When Kara died, something inside me shattered into a million pieces. Some pieces are lost forever. I will never be the person I once was, I am forever changed. I look in the mirror and don't recognize the tired, sad face looking back at me.
How do people live through this? I'll never understand how one gets through the grief associated with the loss of a child. I am lost and bereft, miserable in my existence. I have failed as a human being, as a mother. My child died before I could give birth to her - how can I live with that? My arms are empty and my heart aches with the loss of my baby. I wish I could just disappear and be done with this life.
When Kara died, something inside me shattered into a million pieces. Some pieces are lost forever. I will never be the person I once was, I am forever changed. I look in the mirror and don't recognize the tired, sad face looking back at me.
How do people live through this? I'll never understand how one gets through the grief associated with the loss of a child. I am lost and bereft, miserable in my existence. I have failed as a human being, as a mother. My child died before I could give birth to her - how can I live with that? My arms are empty and my heart aches with the loss of my baby. I wish I could just disappear and be done with this life.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Thanksgiving
When I first lost Kara, one of my best friends gave me a necklace from Tiffany's. It was a modern art rendition of the Madonna & Child with Kara's name engraved on the back. It's a beautiful piece that has come to signify that my daughter is with God now. I wear it to keep her name close to my heart.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. My family joined us at our home and everyone brought a dish. Conversation was easy and the food was good. When everyone left, I went upstairs to change into sweats to relax. I removed the pendant and thought, "This is how I spent the holiday with my baby." It broke my heart. Everyone on my husband's side of the family had a baby this year - all around the time of Kara's death. My best friend mentioned above, is due in 3 weeks. (I haven't seen her since August.) Why does everyone I know get to have live, healthy babies? Every one of them has their smiling infants this holiday season, except me. My poor baby lies in her cold grave this holiday season. I want to hold her warm body and kiss her face. I want to change diapers and watch her crawl all over Grandma and Grandpa. I had a good cry over that last night. I'm crying again as I write this.
Each night in my prayers, I am thankful for my husband & his health, my family, and for the privilege of having carried Kara for 9 months. She was the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am so lucky to have been her mommy. But I'm angry and sad, too. Angry & sad that she died; angry and sad for everything we are missing out on together. This world is unfair and fucked up. It's hard to be thankful when your baby is dead, but I try to be thankful for the 9 months that I carried her and the wonderful experiences she gave me in return.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. My family joined us at our home and everyone brought a dish. Conversation was easy and the food was good. When everyone left, I went upstairs to change into sweats to relax. I removed the pendant and thought, "This is how I spent the holiday with my baby." It broke my heart. Everyone on my husband's side of the family had a baby this year - all around the time of Kara's death. My best friend mentioned above, is due in 3 weeks. (I haven't seen her since August.) Why does everyone I know get to have live, healthy babies? Every one of them has their smiling infants this holiday season, except me. My poor baby lies in her cold grave this holiday season. I want to hold her warm body and kiss her face. I want to change diapers and watch her crawl all over Grandma and Grandpa. I had a good cry over that last night. I'm crying again as I write this.
Each night in my prayers, I am thankful for my husband & his health, my family, and for the privilege of having carried Kara for 9 months. She was the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am so lucky to have been her mommy. But I'm angry and sad, too. Angry & sad that she died; angry and sad for everything we are missing out on together. This world is unfair and fucked up. It's hard to be thankful when your baby is dead, but I try to be thankful for the 9 months that I carried her and the wonderful experiences she gave me in return.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The Holidays
Today is the day before Thanksgiving - the first holiday without my baby. When I first attended my babyloss group, everyone talked about the 'firsts'; first Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first Angelversary. At the time, I didn't think I would be so affected. I was in so much pain that I thought Christmas and Thanksgiving couldn't possibly be this bad. They're just another day once you've lost your child.
Yesterday I went Christmas shopping, intent on getting to the malls before the crowds. What I found was so much festivity and Christmas music, that I felt the pit coming on hard & strong. My chest seized up and I felt paralyzed by my grief. I felt like I wanted to die and for a few minutes, wished I had. How can I live like this without my child? Breathe...breathe...
The holidays loom large and dark. They cloud my vision and force me to reevaluate my existence yet again. We were supposed to be enjoying our first holiday as a family. Instead, I am searching for my purpose in life without my child. I am fighting anxiety over the promise of empty holidays without my child. I am trying to wake up each day and get through another hour, another day, the pit always nearby.
Yesterday I went Christmas shopping, intent on getting to the malls before the crowds. What I found was so much festivity and Christmas music, that I felt the pit coming on hard & strong. My chest seized up and I felt paralyzed by my grief. I felt like I wanted to die and for a few minutes, wished I had. How can I live like this without my child? Breathe...breathe...
The holidays loom large and dark. They cloud my vision and force me to reevaluate my existence yet again. We were supposed to be enjoying our first holiday as a family. Instead, I am searching for my purpose in life without my child. I am fighting anxiety over the promise of empty holidays without my child. I am trying to wake up each day and get through another hour, another day, the pit always nearby.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Infertile and full of grief
I'm still struggling with finding happiness in this life anymore. I can't concentrate, find no pleasure in anything, don't want to see friends, have no interest in socializing. I don't find pleasure where I used to, and it's an unbalanced feeling. When will this change for me? I thought maybe if I were to get pregnant again. But no, we're not to be so lucky this month.
We just learned this morning that our 1 embryo tested abnormal, so the cycle has ended. So have my chances of conceiving until the next cycle, which is mid-January. Although I've tried to prepare myself all week, it still comes as a crushing blow. There was a tiny flicker of hope in the back of my mind, that burned even when I knew the chances were slim. Infertility combined with the loss of my infant daughter is a crushing combination and I don't know how people get through this. Waiting and waiting, trying again, waiting and waiting, only to be disappointed over and over again. And I get older every day.
I miss Kara every single day. Her beautiful little face brings me to tears - I have a difficult time looking at her pictures without losing myself and falling into the pit. Last night, my husband told me he cares about nothing anymore and if he could lay down next to her and just die, he would happily do so. Sadly, I feel the same way every minute of every day. It's a battle just to find the will to live every day. I don't know how long I have to live like this.
We just learned this morning that our 1 embryo tested abnormal, so the cycle has ended. So have my chances of conceiving until the next cycle, which is mid-January. Although I've tried to prepare myself all week, it still comes as a crushing blow. There was a tiny flicker of hope in the back of my mind, that burned even when I knew the chances were slim. Infertility combined with the loss of my infant daughter is a crushing combination and I don't know how people get through this. Waiting and waiting, trying again, waiting and waiting, only to be disappointed over and over again. And I get older every day.
I miss Kara every single day. Her beautiful little face brings me to tears - I have a difficult time looking at her pictures without losing myself and falling into the pit. Last night, my husband told me he cares about nothing anymore and if he could lay down next to her and just die, he would happily do so. Sadly, I feel the same way every minute of every day. It's a battle just to find the will to live every day. I don't know how long I have to live like this.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Happiness Eludes Me
Since I lost Kara, I've lost my purpose in life. I don't know why I'm here, or what I'm to do with the rest of my life. I am struggling with finding happiness in my life outside of being a parent to a live child, in the event I never am one. How messed up that I clarify what kind of child I hope to parent: a Live one. This is my life now - clarifying that I am a parent, yet not to a live child. My baby is dead. What is my reason for being?
And can I find happiness without ever being a parent, if it comes to that?
I left Mass early yesterday - I was restless and couldn't focus properly. As I left the church, there were two women with baby girls in the back - babies the age Kara would have been now. As I walked by them with my head down, I thought "That should be me and Kara." I made my way to my car and went to visit my baby in the cemetary. When I sit at Kara's grave and realize I may have another 40+ years in which to do this, I am overcome with sadness and hopelessness. I want to lay down and join her; melt into the earth and hold her.
I have some soul-searching to do. I must find happiness again, I just don't know where to start. Just living my life one day and sometimes one hour at a time is the best I can do right now.
And can I find happiness without ever being a parent, if it comes to that?
I left Mass early yesterday - I was restless and couldn't focus properly. As I left the church, there were two women with baby girls in the back - babies the age Kara would have been now. As I walked by them with my head down, I thought "That should be me and Kara." I made my way to my car and went to visit my baby in the cemetary. When I sit at Kara's grave and realize I may have another 40+ years in which to do this, I am overcome with sadness and hopelessness. I want to lay down and join her; melt into the earth and hold her.
I have some soul-searching to do. I must find happiness again, I just don't know where to start. Just living my life one day and sometimes one hour at a time is the best I can do right now.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Kara's Monument - 4 Month Angelversary
October 4th was Kara's 4month Angelversary.
It feels like yesterday, it feels like years.
We visited her grave on Saturday to see the monument and to honor her memory on this solemn day. We placed a vase of white roses at the foot of the monument. White - for my innocent, pure, beautiful baby.
Her monument is pale pink, with a Celtic cross to honor her Irish name, and a bird from her nursery to honor her memory in our home. The stone turned out beautifully, but as I emailed photos to my family I thought 'how tragic that I'm emailing photos of my baby's headstone instead of photos of her first smile, first tooth, first tummy time.' The finality of it hits me all over again and I am thrown into the abyss once more. My heart is broken. My life is shattered.
I know I must try to live the best life that I can, in Kara's honor. But I'm just not 'there' yet. Some days I can still barely function, and I am disinterested in life in general. I don't enjoy things I used to, and I muddle through my days longing for bedtime when I can escape my reality. When will this change? I know I am the master of my own destiny, so only I can change this. When will I change this? How long until I can look forward to something-anything again? I am pinning all of my hopes on another pregnancy. I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I think that if I'm able to deliver a live, healthy baby I'll have something, someone to live for. A reason to be happy every day, a reason to live my life.
I've come a long way in 4 months. I have a long way to go.
Monday, September 22, 2008
No Escape
This week will be 16 weeks since we lost Kara. I feel...lost, bewildered, unglued, anxious, restless, exhausted and unhappy. I can't escape myself or my reality.
I am lost. Who is this person I have become? I hate myself, hate the life choices I made that led me to have my first child just two weeks before I turned 40. Why did I wait so long? I know why - and none of those reasons make it any better. I know hindsight is 20/20 - but that doesn't take away the pain and the guilt of having waited possibly too long, to bear my first child. And now my child is gone. I am lost without her.
I am bewildered. What the fuck happened? I spent 9 months waiting for this little person to come into the world. I prepared her room, bought the prettiest clothes and bedding sets, washed and folded all of her things just days before her life ended. What was I thinking just hours before? When did she die, exactly? What was I doing at that moment? Could/Should I have known at that second, that she died? How did this happen? I am bewildered at how fast a life can change forever.
I am unglued. Every minute is a struggle to live. I cannot function without feeling my emotions are unraveling; I'm barely hanging on to life. I l.i.v.e because my physcial body lives. But my heart is broken and my mind sometimes wraps around that fact, and I become unraveled. How could this have happened?! How can it be that I visit my baby girl in the cemetary every week?!
I am anxious and restless. I struggle to get away from myself, but I can't. I can't relax for a moment, without finding another activity I can do to keep in motion - keep busy. I try to read a book, but my mind wanders to my baby girl and all I've lost. I can't work, can't sleep, can't relax. I want to crawl out of my skin and find a new body - one that's not broken with grief.
I am exhausted. I can't get enough sleep - even with Ambien, I wake at the slightest sound, unable to get back to sleep. I lay awake worrying, 'will I ever see Kara again? I'm not a good enough person...I must try harder.' 'Will I ever have a live child? I'm so old - 40 now and childless.' worry worry worry. it's exhausting.
I'm unhappy. I turned 40, just two weeks after Kara died. I am old and have squandered my youth - having made terrible decisions up until I decided to have a child. My child means everything to me and she is not here. How does one regain their life after this? I am unhappy because I miss her terribly. I am unhappy because I should live this life in her honor - she didn't even get to take one breath - how dare me squander more of my life! I am so unhappy, I can't change it.
I have to simply 'be' right now.
I am lost. Who is this person I have become? I hate myself, hate the life choices I made that led me to have my first child just two weeks before I turned 40. Why did I wait so long? I know why - and none of those reasons make it any better. I know hindsight is 20/20 - but that doesn't take away the pain and the guilt of having waited possibly too long, to bear my first child. And now my child is gone. I am lost without her.
I am bewildered. What the fuck happened? I spent 9 months waiting for this little person to come into the world. I prepared her room, bought the prettiest clothes and bedding sets, washed and folded all of her things just days before her life ended. What was I thinking just hours before? When did she die, exactly? What was I doing at that moment? Could/Should I have known at that second, that she died? How did this happen? I am bewildered at how fast a life can change forever.
I am unglued. Every minute is a struggle to live. I cannot function without feeling my emotions are unraveling; I'm barely hanging on to life. I l.i.v.e because my physcial body lives. But my heart is broken and my mind sometimes wraps around that fact, and I become unraveled. How could this have happened?! How can it be that I visit my baby girl in the cemetary every week?!
I am anxious and restless. I struggle to get away from myself, but I can't. I can't relax for a moment, without finding another activity I can do to keep in motion - keep busy. I try to read a book, but my mind wanders to my baby girl and all I've lost. I can't work, can't sleep, can't relax. I want to crawl out of my skin and find a new body - one that's not broken with grief.
I am exhausted. I can't get enough sleep - even with Ambien, I wake at the slightest sound, unable to get back to sleep. I lay awake worrying, 'will I ever see Kara again? I'm not a good enough person...I must try harder.' 'Will I ever have a live child? I'm so old - 40 now and childless.' worry worry worry. it's exhausting.
I'm unhappy. I turned 40, just two weeks after Kara died. I am old and have squandered my youth - having made terrible decisions up until I decided to have a child. My child means everything to me and she is not here. How does one regain their life after this? I am unhappy because I miss her terribly. I am unhappy because I should live this life in her honor - she didn't even get to take one breath - how dare me squander more of my life! I am so unhappy, I can't change it.
I have to simply 'be' right now.
Monday, September 1, 2008
I'm So Tired
I am so tired of being sad. My sadness follows me everywhere, I can't escape it. I am exhausted, yet restless ~ unable to concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time. I can't rest; napping isn't possible with the racing thoughts that chase me. I am restless for physical activity, but nothing wears me out enough to relax. So I continue in this endless circle of weariness, restlessness and sadness, until the night comes and I can lay down in exhaustion.
I stayed in bed until 8am this morning hoping to make my day shorter. Once up, I was restless and eager to burn off some energy. I went to the gym, ran errands, re-potted plants, showered, & went shopping. It's 3pm and I'm so tired, I would love a nap, but I'll just lay down and have panic attacks. On my way home, I passed a pregnant neighbor's house. Her sister was outside tying blue ribbons on her mailbox and stairwell - obviously she had her baby this weekend. Passing by was enough to undo me today. I don't want to be this way. I miss my baby girl so, so much. Why do other people get to have happy pregnancies that end in live/healthy babies, but I didn't? I feel singled out - an outcast. I hate my life. I just want to lie down and not wake up again. I am so tired of this sadness, of feeling sorry for myself, of missing my daughter and all that will never be.
I was never a 'happy' person. I was never the bubbly, cheerful person that some of my friends are ~ there are people who are just full of joy no matter what. I have never been that person. But I liked my life and I was content. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. Now I hate my life. I want to trade this one in for another one. I can't look in the mirror without seeing the sadness on my face and the loss on my body - the sagging belly and breasts that were bursting with life just 3 short months ago. Now I'm just a deflated, empty shell of a person. I wander around trying to keep busy, just waiting for the night to come so I can escape to my sleeping pills and a few hours of peace. And even then, I'll wake at the slightest sound and the racing thoughts start in once again.
I'm so tired of this life, I just want some relief. If only I could go to sleep and not wake up again.
I stayed in bed until 8am this morning hoping to make my day shorter. Once up, I was restless and eager to burn off some energy. I went to the gym, ran errands, re-potted plants, showered, & went shopping. It's 3pm and I'm so tired, I would love a nap, but I'll just lay down and have panic attacks. On my way home, I passed a pregnant neighbor's house. Her sister was outside tying blue ribbons on her mailbox and stairwell - obviously she had her baby this weekend. Passing by was enough to undo me today. I don't want to be this way. I miss my baby girl so, so much. Why do other people get to have happy pregnancies that end in live/healthy babies, but I didn't? I feel singled out - an outcast. I hate my life. I just want to lie down and not wake up again. I am so tired of this sadness, of feeling sorry for myself, of missing my daughter and all that will never be.
I was never a 'happy' person. I was never the bubbly, cheerful person that some of my friends are ~ there are people who are just full of joy no matter what. I have never been that person. But I liked my life and I was content. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. Now I hate my life. I want to trade this one in for another one. I can't look in the mirror without seeing the sadness on my face and the loss on my body - the sagging belly and breasts that were bursting with life just 3 short months ago. Now I'm just a deflated, empty shell of a person. I wander around trying to keep busy, just waiting for the night to come so I can escape to my sleeping pills and a few hours of peace. And even then, I'll wake at the slightest sound and the racing thoughts start in once again.
I'm so tired of this life, I just want some relief. If only I could go to sleep and not wake up again.
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