I can't think.
It isn't just time that's slow. My brain is, too. It's like watching television in some slow-mo without the sound. I go to say things, and my mouth won't form the words. My brain won't even make the connections to give me the right phrase. It's not even on the tip of my tongue - it's just gone, as if I never learned the language in the first place.
It's probably good I don't have to talk much. Although there are a few people I wish would call.
My midwife was supposed to be here Monday. Last Monday. We had an appointment at eleven. She didn't show, and she didn't call. I finally called her on Thursday to ask if she wanted to reschedule, and she still hasn't called me back. I'm pretty shocked by her lack of response, I have to admit. Is she blaming herself? Has she just decided to move on to her more important clients, the ones who are having live babies?
My older two kids are angry with me, I think. My oldest son cancelled coming here this weekend. When I asked why, he said, "I'm tired, and I can't sleep over there with the kids running around in the morning." Yeah, it sounded like a lame excuse to me, too. My oldest daughter, who was incredibly excited about the baby, hasn't called or returned a call since I initially told her what happened.
I'm pretty sure they blame me for killing their little brother. Not that I don't get that. I blame me, too. Some part of me would like to be angry at someone. Have someone to blame it all on. Someone besides myself, I mean. I think every mother in this situation takes that on. It's part of being a mother, that mother-guilt and regret. We do it with our live children, too... why would the response to a dead one be any different?
But I do feel abandoned - already. Two weeks out, and people have moved on. Even people whose lives were directly effected by William's death. Going on with life. Finding someone to hang it on or shrugging off any mantle of responsibility, and moving on.
But I can't move on.
I can't think, I can't speak. I can't function at any sort of human level. And this, they tell me, is my "new normal." I'm tired of being sad. Exhausted, in fact. But I don't have a choice. There isn't any "deciding to have a good day." The woman at medical records in the hospital had that posted above her computer. "You can decide to have a good day." Right. Maybe most people can. But I can't. I really, really can't.
I can't pull myself up by my bootstraps... I can't even find my boots.
According to the stats, people get over a loss outside of their own immediate family within two weeks. And even when the loss does involve immediate family, people get back to functioning after about 1-2 months. When the loss involves the death of a child? That period of time is extended... to 18-24 months.
Are you kidding me? Two years. I can't do this. I can't do this for two years. I can't go around unable to think, speak, function... how do people do this? How?
10 comments:
oh Dawn. My heart hurts for you. I haven't forgotten.
I've never lost a child so obviously I don't know exactly how you are feeling. I remember how it was when I suddenly lost my Mom though. We were immeasurably close, and all of a sudden....gone with no warning. 8 years later, the pain is still there! It is really hard when no one else seems to remember or care. I can identify with that, for sure.
And I still remember very clearly the stillbirth we had in our practice. That little babe is still close to my heart. I know your little William will not be forgotten by your caregivers.
Gosh, hopefully this is not coming off as I'm making it about me, because it's totally all about you. I'm sorry you're not getting enough support from those around you. Everyone grieves so differently.
Thanks Christa... I didn't know you'd had a stillbirth in your practice :( How awful...
I think grief just makes time wonky. We want it to hold still... or we want to turn it back, really. And we can't understand why it just keeps going, and life keeps going, and how is that possible when our hearts are broken and the person we love most and want to be here isn't here?
And I'm afraid that just doesn't end... *sigh*
Oh my dear,
I got your email a couple of days ago. My email right now seems to be down so I haven't been able to send my reply....so I'm going to reply here to let you know how much you are in my thoughts and prayers.
I am so SO sorry to hear of William's death. My heart just seized up when I read your email and heard your pain. I can't believe this has happened to you, which I know is foolish...it can happen to anyone....but I just see your face from the pix you sent me after the birth of your previous baby and I so wish that joy were yours right now, not this sorrow, this deep deep grief.
I have not lost a child but I have lost other dear ones in my life and it certainly is hard when everyone else moves on without you and no one wants to talk about it anymore. The inability to think, feeling like your brain is swimming through mud, is pretty common but oh so disorienting. You feel like you're in another world, interfacing with others on the surface but not really there.
I don't have any wonderful words of condolence, just lots of long-distance hugs and tears of pain. Know that I am thinking of you very much and sending you endurance and much love.
kmom
I remember reading a book that showed that it took something like 8 YEARS to feel as happy as you did before the loss. 8 YEARS! I couldn't imagine living that way for that long. Grief is so different for everyone.. I think getting your feelings out here, and just embracing William any way you can will help. I can only speak from my own experience when I say that things do get better. Dresden is with me EVERY SINGLE day.. and that's how I want it.. but I do feel joy, and look forward to life.. I felt early on that Dresden wouldn't want his momma moping around all the time.. I think that helped me too. The early weeks are so hard.. and esp. when the rest of the world gets over it.. big hugs!
I was exactly where you are a month and a half ago. It is so hard to see other people move on while it feels like your life has completely stopped. I wish I had some words of wisdom for you, but please know that you aren't alone. I would recommend that you find a support group or even pick up some books on losing a child. It helped me so much to know that I was normal for this new normal.
My experience is obviously not the same as yours, but I completely understand the sense of abandonment. Not only did I feel totally alone, but I hated that others had the CHOICE to move on -- when I was left to cope. It's been almost 16 years now, and while I don't feel abandoned, I still resent the emotional liberties that people take for granted.
Hugs, Dear One.
John
Family seems to have a hard time. I think they are hurting so much themselves (like your kids) and can't express themselves, and see that you are hurting. I don't know.
The grief changes with time, and your ability to deal with it changes too.
Ten months after Serenity died, we took a vacation. We talked all summer and fall that we needed one, but I wasn't ready to leave my safety zone before then.
The vacation at that time helped me to accept the reality that we are living in.
Right now, don't worry about time, or *when* you are supposed to feel this way or that way. Just allow yourself to feel.
((hugs))
Exactly my thoughts. It is so exhausting to be sad all the time, to have recurring, almost obsessive thoughts of what I don't have, what went wrong, why him- why us, what did I do wrong? It's all so physically and mentally exhausting. The guilt causes me to stop eating and sleeping. All I can really tell you, is that I don't think we'll ever "get over" our losses, we just learn how to live with it. It never becomes comfortable, it still stings for me, but its a pain that you get used to. It sucks. I take happy pills in order to force myself to put on a happy face for the outside, but on the inside I'm still crying and wailing for my son. That's something we just have to get used to, thats part of our new routine.
Hang in there. Be gentle with yourself. Forget about those blasted boots. Your wound is fresh, your pain is raw. It's incomprehensible now, but with time, you will function once again.
I remember days where I could hardly breathe without my baby, but when the first anniversary of his birthday and dying day arrived, I remember being shocked by how functional I was. Not that there weren't bad days all the way up to that day, and not that there weren't bad days after, but time did bring some healing and consolation. Nearly another year later, that's even more true.
Don't worry about how long your healing will take. Just be present in your moment and survive.
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