I can't do it. I can't be smiling and happy and chatty around people I don't know. I just can't do it.
I've never been an extrovert, one of those people who strikes up conversations with strangers at the playground. That's not me anyway.
But now? Now it's more than being introverted and quiet. Now it's avoiding. Every time someone looks my way, I feel exposed. I want to hide or run away. I feel as if, every time someone opens their mouth to speak, their words are potential weapons. Anyone could say anything at any moment that could hurt me. Every interaction holds the possibility of pain.
I feel like someone who gets stuck with needles all day, constantly on the lookout for the next poke.
M. has been gung-ho lately about making "playdates" for the kids since it's now summer and we don't have any kids around for them to play with. I know it's selfish, but I have such a hard time with it. I don't want to talk to other mothers, women who have all their children alive. And I definitely don't want to be around other mothers who have babies.
Even normal conversation hurts.
"Hi, how are you?" Crappy, my baby died. "Fine. You?"
"Gorgeous day, isn't it?" No, not in my world it isn't. The sun might be shining on your side, but it's dark and raining over here all the time. "Yeah, the kids love it."
Smiling hurts my face. I wear dark glasses all the time, even inside, like I've been beaten and am trying to hide the bruises, when what I'm really hiding are my constant tears.
Although most of the time I do feel beaten. Beaten up and beaten down. I don't want to look into anyone's eyes. I don't want to have to pretend it doesn't hurt and I don't want to have to explain my pain. I don't want to see the pity in someone else's eyes. I don't want to know they're feeling sorry for me. I don't want to be afraid, holding my breath, waiting for the next unintentionally hurtful thing.
Because it's coming. I know it's coming. And the anticipation is always worse than the reality. When I'm out in the world, I'm always wary, watching, crouched and ready for the next blow. At least when I'm alone, I don't have to ward off attacks from anyone but me and my own conscience.
And I do a good enough job, I think, at beating myself up. More than good enough. I don't need it from all sides. I really, really don't.
13 comments:
I feel like I could've written this myself, word for word.
I hate, hate, HATE when people ask me "how I'm doing." What a pretentious thing to ask somebody who you know has just lost their baby. I resent having to mask my true feelings and desire of wanting to kick and scream and rant on about how the world just SUCKS. One of these days I swear that I'm going to snap when somebody asks me that, and I'm really going to let it all out about how NOT OKAY everything is. My favorite days are the ones where I don't have to go anywhere, and the kids and I make our own fun at home. I love not having to talk to people in "the outside world."
I hate leaving the four walls of my bedroom. Even E begs me to go to watch TV in another room. I feel safe there. I wish there was a shirt or button that we could wear that said "My baby died so don't ask." That would avoid multiple kinds of stupid questions and conversations.
I hear you...I've learned to face the world and interact and appear normal but I'm still raw inside. It's tiring. xoxo
I know.
xo
I know how you feel! I'm dreading going back to work. I can't imagine all the comments and questions I will have to endure. I wish we could easily identify each other (baby loss moms) in daily life. Maybe that would make life easier.
xo
It's hard not to feel like a punching bag. My husband works at the bank- he always gets asked if he has kids. To avoid the unpleasantries, he says no. They say good for you! You don't need kids, you're young and don't need to be held down! Sucker punch to the gut. I work in retail, so the "how are you's?" are just a way of making idle conversation- I lie all the time. If I said I felt like crap, or I miss my dead son, people would never come and shop at my store again. Then at home, I beat myself up with all the what if's and I should have's. A big punching bag, that's what I am.
At least other babylost mommas won't beat us up.
xoxo
It's awful. I feared going back into the "real world" because I worried how I would cope with mums and babies out there. How I would cope with people asking me questions about my pregnancies and babies. Now I hate it that noone asks me. That noone is really interested. That everyone has gotten on with their lives and that they assume I have too.
I hear ya
I hated going out in the first months too.. I hated the checkout girl asking how I was.. I could never say 'good' so I made alright my new go to phrase. On a couple occasions they would say, just alright? why? One time I said, you don't want to know.. and left it at that. The next time the lady pushed the issue.. I told her.. found out the same thing happened to her! It was a nice moment. NOW, I feel honored when I'm able to mention Dresden.. it doesn't make me cry to talk about him. When someone admires my urn necklace I can share him.. when someone mentions my pregnancy and how I must be REALLY READY for the babe to come (since being pregnant is soo uncomfortable - they assume) I tell them YES, I am really ready.. but not because I'm uncomfortable but because my son was stillborn last year and I need this baby here to know she's okay! It feels SOO great to just mention him.. and like you, it's not about the pity or sorry looks from others.. but we don't get to carry out babies around stores, parks or wherever.. people admire babies.. they can't admire mine - so if they ask, now I share.
but early on.. no way.. last thing I want to do is bust out crying at target! :(
A friend described this feeling as having 1000 antennae. I loved that description because it captures the sensitivity, the pain, the hyper-awareness that I feel going out in public.
yep. exactly how i feel. i have started answering the how are yous with "not good" and you know what? their response is STILL the same. they just keep smiling and nodding like i said i was doing fine.
echoing you,,,
HUG...I hear you. Boy..do I ever.
I was once "perky"....now...I am quiet. I am withdrawn. I am lost.
My house is immaculate...a true sign that the girl I was once is no longer home. I am hopeing that having a puppy will bring at least part of me home...that he will help me find the peices that I've lost. Or...at least that we wil find new ones together.
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