I have become cruel and selfish. I can’t stand the sad, over dramatic profile pictures, all I can think is what do you know of suffering, of pain? You have a bad day, I live in constant sadness and anger every single day. I am lucky if I have a good day. See how selfish I am? I can’t see how how others can be in pain. What could they know of pain if they haven’t lost a child?I’m finally at the point where I care about work, enough to do it. But don’t bother me when I’m in a bad space, its hard enough to try and get myself out of it, I don’t have time for distractions. I really just want to be left alone.I don’t appreciate jokes like I used to, I don’t to small talk. I don’t care about superficial relationships, if you can’t handle my sadness, the dark feelings I have them you can just leave.So I changed, and honestly I don’t care. I am trying to survive the worst pain I have ever felt. I need to do what I must to survive. One day I hope will have a little bit of my old self back. Maybe I will have the strength again to loom beyond my own pain and see the pain of others.
I’m not okay, I’m just good at pretending to be. It’s been just 2 months even though it feels like a lifetime ago. Already it seems like people just forgot that I lost my baby. I understand that life goes on, that they can’t focus on me all the time but a little consideration would be nice.
I am forgetful, anti social, rude maybe. I am not the same person I used to be. I’m contestantly fighting a battle in my mind, trying to keep the grief from overwhelming me. I’m trying to survive the pain of losing my baby. Somedays the battle is just too hard and I just can’t focus social niceties, honestly, somedays I just can’t be bothered to care about other people’s feelings or the stupid small things they care about. What’s that compared to losing a baby??
Maybe I’m selfish, it just shocks me that it’s already forgotten that I lost a child. And its not like its been years (since people tend to think grief gets better in time, which it does not) It’s been TWO MONTHS! I carried her for nine, but I am not even allowed to be a huge mess, rude and over sensitive for 2!
Maybe this is more of a vent post that I had planned… but I am angry, hurt, feeling betrayed. I though I could get a little bit of a grace to grief and do what I need to do to cope.
My mom once told me that grief is a big bag of cement you carry with you all the time. That’s why everything else is just too exhausting to deal with, grief is heavy enough. And its not like I have a choice, I can’t just choose not to grief. I can push it down sometimes, which is why I seem okay, but its always there. And its always affecting me even when I look okay.
People always talk about the love of a parent for their child, its all consuming and forever. Which is my point, my love didn’t stop the day her heart stopped beating. It never will. I will love and grief for her for the rest of my life.
It creeps up on me in my quiet moments. One moment I’m fine and then I’m not. It’s like my brain has a default setting: it will always think of you unless I fill it with other things. It’s not that I want to forget you, even if it was possible I wouldn’t want it. It’s just that the loss of you, and the emptiness I feel now can only be managed in small doses. My sadness is tucked away in a corner, and I only allow myself to take a peek a moment or two each day. If I allow myself to spend too much time with it, it will consume me. I’m not strong enough for that, I can’t deal with all the questions I have, with the anger and the grief. The unfairness of it all.
I can never not think of you. Sometimes I wish I could, that way I can forget the sad reality that babies die. No matter how much they were wanted, no matter how long their parents waited for them. Babies die, even miracle babies. Sometimes I can pretend that its a comfort that you will never know the pain and horror this world can bring, I pretend its enough that I will see you again one day. But it really isn’t. It will never be okay that you are gone. Call me selfish but if I had a choice I would always want you to be with me.
I will always cry for you and that’s why I have to fill my head. The world has moved on, and it forces me along with it. I wish I could curl up and cry whenever I feel like it. But it’s expected of me to move on, to pretend that work and the day to day things that every one else think is important, still matters to me. In truth it doesn’t, all that matters is you and the mess I am since you left.
I miss you every second of every day. I wish you didn’t have to die
There’s no words today… I’m just sad. No triggers, no reason. Well, except that I lost you. I’m just numb, I can’t explain it. Days like these scares me, it’s worse than the days that I cry. Crying releases something, there’s some relief. Even if it’s just a little. But for the way I’m feeling now there’s no relief. Just endless sadness, there’s no end and no hope. The things I usually tell myself just sounds so cliche today. Thinking about you safe and warm in God’s arms doesn’t comfort me. Im empty, and nothing will change that today. All I can do is just keep moving, and hope I can get a glimmer of light in this dark. It sounds stupid, but that’s how it feels: like I’m in the middel of a huge dark hole that I just can’t see my way out of. Days like this all I can do is fill my head with so much distractions that I forget I’m in the hole.
I used to cut myself, something that I’m so ashamed of. You saved me from that, you gave me hope, you made my body something else. Hurting myself could hurt you, so I stopped. I promised myself that I won’t undo the good you did to me, that I won’t shame you like that. But the feelings in me is so big, so terrible that hurting myself feels like the only way to get release.
I’m just not strong enough to live without you
She was so alive from the moment she existed: the pregnancy test was positive within a minute and she was there on the ultrasound the very next day, no need for a blood test. She was just there. Every month for nearly two years I hoped and prayed that this would be the month. I was contantly checking for signs that I could be pregnant, contantly doubting and hoping. Its like she knew it and made sure that there couldn’t be any doubt. She was just there.
She also made sure there’s no doubt about her gender, she was positioned in the perfect way to ensure that we would know she is a girl. No shyness there, like her dad.
Its the same way she made sure that I knew when she was kicking, there just couldn’t be a doubt that it was her. She was so strong, and so active. I knew her routines, and she kept to it, like her mom. Every morning and evening when we were stuck in traffic, every night just as I was comfortable in bed. She made sure I could feel her, that even her dad could feel her when we cuddle. She was so active! We couldn’t even do a 4D scan because she just wouldn’t stop moving.
Thats why I blame myself for not realising something was wrong sooner, I should have known she wasn’t kicking enough. I should have realised sooner that she stopped kicking. I remember her giving me one great kick the night before, and then she stopped. Was that my baby dying and I just didn’t know it? Is that when the knot in her cord pulled so tight that she couldn’t breathe anymore? It was the first time I spoke to her, before it always felt to weird, so I would sing instead. Maybe I should find comfort in that if that was her last moment, she left hearing her mom’s voice.
Whenever I think about her I imagine her as a little girl, with big brown eyes and long brown hair. I think she would’ve been courageous and bold, but in a gentle way. She would’ve had a tender heart, comforting anyone afraid or in pain. I don’t know why, but I just know this is who she would’ve been. I miss knowing her, seeing her grow up. I miss what she could have been. I can almost feel her reaching out to me, saying: “Silly mom, don’t you know I’m not that far away. I’m happy, safe and will see you and Daddy someday soon.”
I hate knowing I have a daughter but she’s not with me. When she left she took a part of my soul, something that can never be replaced. I will always be less than I was, broken.
That is who Emma Rose is, she was so alive, a soul that changed the lives of her parents, grandparents and all who knew her forever. She was just so everything that we will never be able to recover from the loss of her.
She changed me, she made me a mom
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I am like a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum. I was supposed to have a baby now, I was so ready for her. I knew I would be tired, emotional and overwhelmed but I was ready for it. I wanted it. I even feel a bit like I deserved it, I spend 2 years waiting for her. I knew I would be a great mom, flawed yes, but the love I had for her would make up for my mistakes. I would’ve appreciated her more because she was my miracle, or she was supposed to be my miracle baby. Instead all I have left of her is a scar and strechmarks.
My period started today, its a good thing. Means when I am all healed up I can try again for another baby. And now I feel guilty, planning another baby when she passed away only two months ago. It feels like I’m trying to replace her, which I’m not. I’m just trying to fill my empty arms. It also makes me so angry, I only wanted to get pregnant once. I didn’t want to have to go through this whole process again, trying again for a baby. It was such a nightmare the first time around.
Normally I try to be positive, she is in God’s hands, happy and safe. I try not to ask any questions, not to search for the reason in all of this. Life is too short to be angry, and there will never be an answer to these questions. But tonight it’s just too hard not to be bitter. I wanted my baby, and now all I have is loose skin where she used to be and a tattoo of her name. It’s just not enough. I want my baby! Why cant I have her?! Why did she have to die??
It wasn’t supposed to be this way
It starts with two little lines and seeing the small little dot on the ultrasound
Its the morning sickness and constant exhaustion
It’s eating every hour and naps even at work
It’s giving up your only addiction: coffee
And the joy you feel when you hear the beat of her heart for the very first time.
It’s finally sinks in: There is a baby in you.
You are responsible for keeping her alive
Your body become something more, almost sacred, its a vessel for precious cargo
It’s having an app to monitor her progress weekly and still searching the web for more information
It’s the monthly doctor’s visits, and saving every ultrasound photo.
It’s designing her room and collecting everything she will need.
It’s planning for life with a baby, expecting your whole life to change around her
It’s feeling the little flutters for the firat time
At first you’re not sure its really her and then one day there is no doubt about it.
Shes strong for such a small thing and active
Its the pride you feel when her Daddy can finally feel her kicks
It’s surviving two trimesters of sickness and nausea only to feel sore and uncomfortable in the third trimester.
It’s being unable to bend over.
It’s the frustration of having so much to do and being unable to do anything at all
It’s endless nights of sleeplessness, because you aren’t allowed to sleep on your back like you are used to
It’s not recognising your body: You’re just that huge.
It’s feeling blessed despite it all, she is worth every moment.
It’s counting the days untill she’s finally born
Motherhood doesn’t start at the birth of a child
And it didn’t end when the doctor told you her little heart stopped beating.
It simply changed, now it’s trusting that she is cared for by angels and safe in the arms of Jesus.
It’s endless nights of crying and mourning.
It’s honouring her memory and counting the days untill you meet your baby again.
And it’s still feeling that she was worth it all.