The last few weeks have been very hard for me. I’ve thought about suicide a lot. What a releif to not wake up every morning and wonder what I will do to get through the day. Don’t worry, i’m not going to do it. But it’s not for lack of courage though. Because frankly, to have survived the SHIT i’ve had to survive it takes courage. To hear things like ‘Meckel-Gruber’ and 1 in 4 odds, and a condition known as ‘incompetent cervix’ that is bad enough to warrant an abdominal as opposed to a vaginal cercalge takes courage. In comparison to all this and my grief, suicide is a walk in the park. I entertain suicide like a day dream, because the last thing my family needs is for me to be the author of more pain for them by taking my own life. I hate my life though. Not kidding here. I just hate it.
I think what sealed the deal is knowing about my uncle’s now ex girlfriend. Knowing that a *shit* like her can have 3 healthy girls. Knowing that that can happen and processing the unfairness of it all kills me. The other night my mother was trying to talk me out of an especially bad spell.
I was discussing the possibility of visiting her for an extended stay. Just to escape the lonliness for a while; my husband is my only family here. No job + no baby + all the time in the world to think of why. So she said that if I ever felt I needed to leave that my home is with her. She said my brother could move in with my grandma and I could have his room and then we will see what God’s plan is for my life.
And then I lost it. I told her don’t tell me about God and his plan. Please don’t. I. CAN’T. BEAR. TO. HEAR. IT. PERIOD. She was shocked…and hurt. She tells me that NOW is when I need God. Do you know when I needed God? I needed Him when Emi’s neural tube did not close. I needed Him when her heart started to fail. I needed Him when my cervix started to funnel with Daniella. I needed Him to keep my cervix from dialating the one centimeter that it did before we got the cerclage in. I needed Him to halt the infection that brought on labor because of that one centimeter. I needed him to delay labor just 5 days, just 5 days so that labor would have begun at 24 weeks rather than 23 weeks and 2 days.
When Daniella was in the nicu struggling to breathe I was bargaining with God. I told him too take whatever more time she would have needed in the womb off of my life. Whether she needed, be it 5 more days or 2 more months – whatever – He could have it. Just take it from me. Then I changed my technique. I said ok, if her lungs are not ready, afflict my lungs. Let me struggle for breath, not her, she’s not ready yet, she needs more time… Then I begged, because I had nothing more in me, I begged that he not allow me to lose another one. He already had Emi, not Daniella, please not her. If someone’s baby had to die, please God not mine, not this baby…
I know He is always there, I know he loves me. But that night of all nights, when I spoke with my mom, I could not hear another interpretation of God’s plan. I’ve heard the stories, of other women who accidentally delivered baby’s into toilets (with the umbilical torn) and they survived. I’ve heard of the 19 weeker and 21 weeker and yes of course my favorite – the 23 weeker that lived despite all the odds. I’ve heard of all the freak incidents where babies should have died and they did not. I guess a miracle was in store for them, but certainly not us.
So beleive you me, I know God has a ‘plan’. Because everything that could have gone wrong has. In pregnancy, after the risk of miscarraige ceases, there is only a 2% chance of loss. It’s happened twice for me. I feel so targeted. I feel angry, bitter and resentful. They say that God will drive you to intense pain and suffering so that you will turn to him. With Emi I did, but with Daniella it’s been really hard. The very words, and explanations, and Bible versus that somehow brought me comfort with Emi, are hardly working now.
I feel like i’m drowning in grief and with little hope for a lifeline. Everyday without my girls is a struggle I don’t want to fight.