When my baby died, a part of me died with her. To say the ‘happy’ part died, fails to truly grasp what I mean. I remember a very kind doctor telling me she would die, as I watched her prance around in my womb via sonogram. How could this be? And so…a part of my brain – perhaps the part that deals with reasonsing and understanding shortly died too. It lasted enough to get me through the devestativng news and all the horrible tests that went with it. It got me through the pain of labor and having my daughter laid on thigh, because I did not have it in me to hold my little princess. (In reality I did not know what she would look like at 22wks; and so I preffered to remember her through the sonogram images). It got me through the two weeks of hell while recupertating at home by myself, while my husband worked and nurtured me at night). It got me through those first few weeks of work, and so on. While that part of my brain was functioning at full speed, another part, the part of my brain that housed my dreams and hope, whatever innocence I had, and my very joy, died immediately.
Now I find myself mourning those dreams and hope, as I wade through this sea of my own dark bitterness that has overtaken my heart. Yesterday hubby and I spoke about his feelings for a change. He mentioned his suffering at not seeing his parents as much as he’d like. He mentioned his dismay at my anger that remains unchecked, and at the fact that I could easily never see them again. His parents have not acknowledged my daughter’s birth or even death. Why should I act like she did not exist for their fucking benefit? I think this post caputures my true sentiment. Also, he is disheartened at me because I refuse to buy gifts for babies in our lives. The argurment ensued, and he told me that he can’t guarantee he can last another 5 years like this. (In reality, who can???). And that he does not want to wake me up one day, an tell me that he has already spoken to a divorse lawyer about his options.
So here I am now thinking about all these things…really trying to think with the shreds of brain matter that I have left to think with. My mother offers great advice. She tells me that I can’t let this beat me. If I do it’s like someone (and I love this) who slayed a lion being afraid of a cock roach. She is right. She told me that my husband although grieved by the death of his daughter, still wishes to live, while I remain stagnant through a ‘mental’ death. We are slowly moving apart. I still have time she says, before I wake up and the problem is on top of me and it is too too late. D told me that he told her boyfriend about it. That he does not know what else he can do, and that the situation is unbearable.
I feel so angry and resentful – I have to change? I have to sacrifice? When did he shut his parents up for my benefit? And now I have to sacrifice for him? It pisses me off something awful! I am feeling so awful; I even took the day off from work. But the truth is my mother is right: my marriage, future, happiness and even sanity are at stake.
So I have enlisted the help of the most powerful entity I know, the father of universe. I have asked God to help me through this, because I am so tired and weak; I am at the very end of my rope. Worst, I really don’t care for his parents or their freinds, I really don’t want them in my life. For the record, the thought of being close to my husband is not something I want right now. I feel so dissapointed in him, almost like he is forcing me into something I am not ready to do. I feel like his love is conditional. It is awful. Somehow though, things have to change. I don’t want to lose my marriage and I do want children with him, becasue he would be such an amazing father.
I did not die with my daughter, as much as I love her, I did not die with her. I need to let my grip on her go.
Life is waiting.
The process of rebirth has begun.