It’s been 6 weeks since Baby Boo went to the stars. And while the pain of loss is not as sharp as those first few weeks I am still in a state of grief that is hard to explain.
So many people ask “How are you?” or “Are you ok?” or even “How’s life?”
I try to be honest without being a downer, cause no one likes a complainer, but really, how does one answer a question like that?
Usually to an acquaintance or stranger I say “I’m doing alright, just taking a while to recover physically”. That’s enough information to satisfy those that are just being polite but anyone asking such a basic question probably won’t feel comfortable hearing the real answer. And that’s fine, I know that not everyone is living with this grief or sadness, and I certainly don’t expect everyone to be in this grief space with me.
But to those that know and ask “How are you, really?” or “How is your heart?” or better yet “I know this month is going to be hard for you, if you want to talk, I’m here.” Those folks? They get the real answer.
I’m alive but I’m not sure that I’m ok. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m not.
I’m still very sad. I miss the babies I’ll never know. But more than that, I’m angry, so very very angry. It’s an angry that I can’t tamp down or cool off from deep inside my heart. So much pain and unknown and blame stemming from my own body that I feel has turned on me, has become unreliable and frail. My poor girls are the ones that get the brunt of the angry, more often than not, and it’s just not ok. And the puppy. Oh the puppy. Perhaps the timing of getting a puppy in the middle of this rage wasn’t very good. I know he’s a puppy but man. He pushes every single button.
I don’t know how else to go through this grief without trudging through the anger.
There are just so many “What Could Have Been” scenarios and questions linger in my mind every day. It feels like all we planned, all our future, is in this state of suspension, on hold, waiting for the next shoe to drop.
As if all that we waited for, wanted, hoped for, has been lost and we are hesitantly rebuilding on shaky ground.
It’s May. We were supposed to be bringing Miles into the world in May. Not that I could forget, but I received a letter from DHS about reporting my baby’s birth as soon as it occurs. No really. That happened. Think there’s a withdrawal form that states “My Baby Died, You Heartless Assholes?” But apparently it’s my job, not the physician’s job to alert Medicaid of my losses.
And then there are the thoughts that I should be safely half way through the second trimester with Boo. But my womb has been emptied, time and again, and Boo is fading from memory, too soon to have been more than wishful thinking.
I’m not sure what’s worse. Knowing that this month I should have been having a baby, knowing this month I should still be pregnant or knowing that I am not pregnant nor will I be anytime soon. It just all sucks.
And there are so many babies these days. So. Many. Babies. It feels like all of my friends are either pregnant or just had babies. I love them all. I really do. But every time I hold a baby that’s not mine it’s all I can do to not break down sobbing. WHY ISN’T THIS MY BABY I’M HOLDING?
Some days are just so overwhelming that life is just hard. I know I’m not alone in that thought. But the sadness and anger take hold some days and it’s just…impossible.
But I’m still here.
Working on being well.
Struggling. But trying.
And I’ll never stop trying.
I owe it to myself. I owe it to my girls. I owe it to Michael.
I owe it to all of you that have been there, have sent flowers, have send food, have given hugs, books, cards and art.
I owe it to Miles and Boo and my other babies in the stars.
So next week, we’re going to Disney World. First time for Michael, Cedella, Isora AND my youngest sister Kylara. I will make the best of it. We will have a good time in the “Happiest Place on Earth.”
And I will continue to put one foot in front of the other and move forward, even if I’m wiping tears off my face, because that’s all I know how to do in the face of grief.