Thursday, September 3, 2009

An awful day

My mother made me cry twice this morning, hurt me terribly, very unintentionally. She started talking about things I've already said to my husband. That I should work on getting back to the gym and eating more nutritiously and lose some more weight, that it might help me get pregnant more easily and make another pregnancy more healthy. Coming from her it felt like criticism from a quarter I didn't expect. It cut me badly. And from there, I started crying again, going over the same territory I've gone over and over and over.

Later, after I'd pulled myself back together, she gave me a website to check out. Recommended by people as a place to go after a loss like mine. I've already been directed there and elsewhere. I know, I know that she was trying to be useful and helpful and make up for our earlier conversation. She had no way of knowing that last night after she went to bed, I cried to my husband about how much I hated being directed to websites like that or being asked if I am looking for or have found a support group for preterm labor or infant loss or if I've yet looked for a grief counselor or a therapist who can help me out. Because while I logically know that people are trying to help me and trying be useful and really aren't equipped in themselves to deal with this kind of loss and devastation, what it feels like is something else entirely. It feels and sounds much more like 'Please, do you mind just picking up and going over there? You are crying all over the carpet. You are making a mess with all this grief and sadness. Perhaps if you just go over there and deal with it - preferably behind closed doors - it would be better.'

I already feel so alone and cut off and to get this sort of feeling from my mother too was just too much. I started sobbing again, and it was obvious how upset she was that she had somehow upset me. I felt awful, because I know she doesn't understand what hurt me or why, just that I had been wounded by her.

Later on, Dh and I went out and ended up at the little place we were married nearly 4 years ago. We sat down and started talking and in our conversation, somehow I led Dh to believe I was asking for a divorce. The pain and resignation on his face nearly killed me. It's the farthest thing from what I want - but I don't know quite how to get on from here. We're both in pain and he wants me to be ok and I want to be ok for him and cause him less pain and I've tried but I can't just will myself to be ok. It hurts me to cause so much of his pain on top of what he feels. He said he cannot live with losing me. I can't promise that that hasn't happened already, because what will I become? What if the new person I become is unlovable? I don't want him to be tied to a miserable, bitter hag for a wife. I want him to be happy and contributing to his unhappiness eats away at me.

My life is so unrecognizable right now. It feels like some horrible dream, except I look around and know I won't wake up from this. Somehow, I've got to find a way to pull it all together and make it resemble something like a life. How can I do that when there are so many pitfalls and landmines all around me? When even the two people I love most in the world cut me to the quick (to be fair, it's a far shorter journey than it used to be) and I can see how much I wound them?

I saw someone say somewhere - and it's probably an adaptation on some pearl of wisdom passed down through the ages - that this sort of thing can't be gotten over or around or under - that the only way past it is through it. But it's like an underwater tunnel and just a brief way in I already feel like I'm drowning and can't find which way is up to get light and air.


India said...

I just want you to know that I think of you everyday. You were on The Bump with me and I always loved your posts. I miss your sarcasm and wit - no one had a faster comeback than you. I'm so sorry for your pain and sadness, I wish that somehow I could reach through the computer and help you.

I check on here daily to see how you are. I know you miss Gabriel and all that he would have been. I read the guilt post and it just ripped my heart out. You are the best mother he could have had in his short time here, you loved him with all your heart and I'm so sure he felt that. I'm sure he just knew he was loved and wanted and that even for the brief time you had him he understood how deep your love was.

I don't know your faith, but I am praying for you and your family. Words can't say enough but I hope you will find some peace, enough to feel like you can lift your head above the water to breathe and smile again.

Beth said...

You are not alone. Many of us from the bump are thinking of you. I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are in, but you are in my thoughts and you will get through this. I wish you peace, and that in time happiness will follow.

Emily said...

Easjer, I have been away and had No idea that you lost your precious angel, Gabriel. I am just heartbroken for you and your family. No one should ever know that pain...Wishing you find some peace and healing in time.
Thinking of you and your sweet boy tonight.

Katherine said...

Everything I try to write seems inadequate, we all love you, we're thinking of you every day.


bkb said...

I check your blog daily. I pray for you both often and hope you will see some rays of sunshine peak through the clouds. You are in a horrible upside down world. Know that you are a stronger parent than women who have not experienced a loss because you carry your hopes and dreams and memories on your heart every day. I deeply wish you did not have to go down this path. Sorry just seems drastically inadequate.

Meegs said...

I had given you a website in an earlier post, and I wanted to apologize if I hurt you. It was not at all a "take your hurt elsewhere" thing... but had everything to do with this:
I already feel so alone and cut off ... I was hoping that by "being with" others who had gone through the same situation, you wouldn't feel less heartbroken or sad, but maybe just a little less alone.

Again, I am so sorry if I hurt you.

Please go easy on yourself. You say you don't know how to pull yourself out of the bog you are stuck in... but sweetie, its been such a short time since you lost your son. Give yourself time, and lots of it. It takes months to heal a broken bone, it takes longer then that to even start healing a broken heart.

My thoughts are still with you always.

Isla's Mommy said...

I just came across your blog from Mirne's. My heart sank when I realized you are one of the women walking behind me on this horrible grief journey. My daughter, Isla, died on June 30th and was born on July 1st, at 25 weeks gestation. With just over two months of grieving under my belt, I'm far from a sage on baby death, but I can tell you that all the feelings you've expressed on your blog resonate with me. They are normal and you are not alone.

I have discovered that no one in my real world really gets it. Some people are better at lending support than others, but even those supportive people don't really understand. They want to, but they cant. So I have taken great comfort in my online baby loss mama friends. They get it.

I find there are some women who are ahead of me on this journey that act like beacons. They are forever changed of course and will never "get over" losing their babies, but they have survived and many of them have found new hope and happiness. I'm not there yet, but I want to be. Until then, its one day (or often breath) at a time.

Not sure I can offer you much other than understanding, but if you ever want to email me with a rant, questions, whatever, I'd love to hear from you - (my real name is Melissa). I figure it can't hurt to have a friend at roughly the same stage of the journey. Hopefully we can take comfort and learn from one another.

I'll be following your blog from now on.

Take good care of yourself and your hubby. Thinking of you both and little Gabriel.

Dawn~a~Bon said...

Oh God honey. I'm sorry your mom said those things to upset you.

You're not unlovable. You'll never be unlovable.

Thinking of you, praying for you every day.

Delia said...

There really are no words or actions that will make you feel better or normal. And frankly, what was normal may never be. But you may find a new normal. A normal that's right for you now. For now I will pray that you find some comfort somewhere.

moroccojade said...

You, J, and Gabriel are on my mind

I wish there was SOMETHING I could do to ease your pain. Anything. :(

I'll never forget that beautiful place that you and J got married. I stood up there with you two knowing with all my heart that you love each other infinitely and that you were not only going to make it as a couple -- but that you were going to shine and be an example for others. May you find comfort in one another as best you can as you grieve.

Hang in there, friend. I pray for wisdom for those in your life. May they not make things worse for you. :(

Much love. j~

Catherine said...

I can't speak for your mom or anyone else you know. But I wanted to de-lurk to let you know that, no matter how it feels right now, you are not alone. There are those of us out here who don't mind if you cry all over the carpet...if/when you need us. {{{hugs}}}

Rachel said...

I realize I have no way of knowing the depth of your grief, of understanding what this is like for you, much less helping in any meaningful way. But I am grateful for every clue you can give that helps me at least not hurt you more inadvertently.

I wish it weren't so embedded in your sweet nature to feel responsible for others' feelings. You have enough of a burden right now without being concerned with that, even with your husband.

We're all thinking of you constantly, missing you, missing Gabe, thinking of you and wishing you moments of relief, however they may come.


Megan said...

So sorry your mom said those things to you (no matter how good natured she meant them). Praying for you and your family every day.

Karen said...

Just came across your blog. I'm so sorry to hear of your loss - my baby boy died during my labour on May 19, 2009. It's brutal - and my heart aches for you as you and your husband embark on this dreadful journey of grief. (((hugs)))

Karen said...

p.s. I don't mind if you cry. I do that unexpectedly all the time....this online community of babylost mummas has kept me going the last few weeks. I hope you find comfort from other bereaved mothers.