Last December, I had a toothache from hell. At one point, it got so bad that I stayed up all night crying and praying for some relief. With most illnesses you can run to the pharmacy or in worst cases the ER to get some sort of answers along with some meds, but with toothaches the options are limited, especially when you're pregnant. I remember thinking there couldn't possibly be any pain worse than a toothache.
I take it back.
I went to the dentist and had the tooth extracted. My mouth is no longer in pain. But my heart, well, it hurts badly. And I can't have it extracted. No amount of Ibuprofen or Acetaminophen could ease the deep pain I feel inside. At times, the pain is sharp and relentless. Other times, it's dull and achey, but it's always there. ALWAYS.
I'm supposed to be on maternity leave. Please, tell my why I just left a funeral home...I don't understand. It seems like a nightmare. The funeral director keeps talking about prices and "packages" like were here to buy a time-share. It seems cruel to subject anyone to this after they've suffered the loss of a loved one. I'm lucky that Joe's sisters have handled most of these arrangements for me. I only had to show up to sign some papers, but I can imagine what it's like to have your heart shattered and throbbing with pain, and to want to lay your loved one to rest for eternity only to have a sales person approach you with their robotic, well-rehearsed "I'm so sorry for your loss" script and then attempt to make a sale while you're vulnerable and foggy.
I signed and left. I know I cried because there are black mascara tear trails on my cheeks, but my mind and my heart have blocked out most of the cold details. I don't care for small talk during moments of awkward silence ,while I sign a paper saying it's ok to have my baby buried here. I'm here because I don't have a choice. I doubt anyone has ever seeked their services out of pleasure.
This has truly been my first real encounter with death. There's really no way to describe the physical and emotional toll it has taken on me. There are moments when I feel paralyzed by pain. I have to force myself to function. I suppose that's what brings us all together as humans. No matter what age, race, gender, social status, etc...at the end of the day, we all feel pain. At one point or another, we all experience loss and heartbreak. Pain of any sort is a humbling experience. You suddenly realize you don't care all that much about the petty things.
Excuse my francais, but all the shit that I once swore was my worst nightmare, is the same shit I would trade in this experience for right now. I'd take that toothache from hell back if I could go back and feel my baby moving inside me just one more time. I'd take on everyone else's trouble too, in exchange for a few more magical minutes cuddling with his tiny body.
And excuse my francais some more, but if I ever hear another woman moping and whining about the late night feedings and the loneliness and the fatigue and the lack of support, blah blah blah, I'm gonna have to tell her to shut the fuck up, because I'd give almost anything to have that right now. That's what babies do. Big deal. Get over it. If it bothers you so much then stop having babies.
The only thing that comforts me right now, is knowing that others have suffered or are suffering far more than I ever have, and they are okay.
And in time, I will be okay too.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Pain
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
I sat in our rocking chair and cried like a baby today. If I could put this pain in a bottle and use it as a weapon of mass destruction, I'm sure I'd have enough to destroy several small countries.
I hurt so badly. I've become really good at lying. I can make people believe I'm okay, when inside I just want to run and scream until I collapse. Sometimes, I can even make myself think I'm okay.
I'm not fine. I'm hurt and I'm lost and I'm confused. I feel humiliated. I feel like life played a very dirty trick on me, by letting me plan and dream and hope and letting everyone watch me get excited about bringing new life into the world, only to take it all back and leave me behind broken and wounded.
How am I supposed to go through an entire lifetime with this emptiness in my heart? How am I ever supposed to feel complete again? I hate having so many questions with no answers.
My arms ache for him. I fall asleep whispering his name and I wake up with the sting of the pain in my heart. I just want my baby boy. I want him so badly and I know there is nothing I can do to fulfill this need.
I love you, Ian. Last night I dreamed that you were still inside me and I could feel you moving, only to wake up and remember you are gone. I've cried more in the past 19 days than I have in my entire life, and I still have a lot more crying left to do. Please come visit me in my dreams tonight. I need you.
Momma loves you, little precious.
Friday, March 9, 2012
I miss you more every day. The days go by, but this wound is not healing. I try to smile and stay strong for your brothers, but inside my heart is barely beating. I'm constantly holding back tears and pretending I'm ok, but I'm not. I'm sad. Always sad. The only thing that brings me comfort is knowing you are well and that we will meet again someday.
I feel so privileged to have had you grow inside me. Your entire life took place in my womb. I never got to see you live outside me, but for 39 whole weeks I got to feel you grow inside me. Thank you. I'll hold those memories in my heart for the rest of my life.
The day I said goodbye to your tiny, precious body, I engraved every detail into my mind and my heart- the little wrinkles on your toes, your short, silky eyelashes, the sweet fragrance of your sin, how smooth your cheek felt against mine, how soft your little nose felt on my lips every time I kissed it, how perfectly you fit into my arms... We only had a little over a day together, but I remember every second of it.
I love you, sweet angel. I always did and always will. I was waiting for you anxiously. Your clothes and your bassinet were ready for you, your brothers were counting the days, daddy was so excited and momma was going to quit her job for you, sweety. I wanted to be home for you, like I was for your brothers.
I love you, baby. I thank God for the 39 weeks He gave us together. He allowed me to feel you grow into a precious baby boy, but He had other plans for you and I know you are well, because you're with Him. You went from my womb straight into His arms. How lucky I am to be the mother of an angel. It hurts, but I know where you are and Who you're with.
I love you, little precious.
Love,
Mommy
Monday, March 5, 2012
Yesterday daddy and I took your brothers to watch The Lorax. It was nice to hear them laugh. Daddy too. I tried my best to have a good time but the truth is all I thought about was you. I kept thinking that if you were there, you'd be snuggled up against my chest where I could keep you warm and protect you from the noise.
I miss you. I'm never going to get tired of saying that. I never knew I could miss someone like this. When we got home from the theater, I began to cry. It felt so strange being out as a family without you, because you ARE a part of this family.
I know I shouldn't torture myself with the what-ifs, but sometimes I can't help it. I'm in so much pain, I'm surprised I can function at all. The days seem so long, I don't know what to do with myself. This time was for you. I had seven glorious weeks off to be with you, but you're not here. And who was I kidding, anyway? I wasn't going to return to work. I wouldn't have been able to leave you. Anyone who knows me, knows I'm a mommy first.
A couple of days ago, I opened your box. I sobbed as I went through it. Daddy told me I shouldn't have opened it, but I needed to feel you close.
I still can't believe you're gone. I miss your somersaults inside my belly. I miss all the hopes and dreams I had for us. You're gone and I'm left behind with a broken heart and the residuals of your brief existence. A memory box, baby clothes, an empty bassinet, maternity bras I'll never wear, two breasts full of milk- all constant reminders that you were well on your way into our lives. You're still a part of our lives except now we'll have to go visit you at a cemetery. We'll never get to hear you giggle or watch you grow or hear you say "mamma" or "dadda" or have you wrap your little hand around my index finger....I could go on and on.
I never knew it was possible to hurt this badly.
I love you, my little angel face.
Mommy
Saturday, March 3, 2012
I should've held you longer. I should've kissed you more. Words could never describe how much I miss you. This heartache is emotionally and physically painful. Sometimes, I hurt so bad, I feel paralyzed, like I can't move or talk. I just want to lay still and cry.
The first day I pumped your milk, I sat in our rocking chair, crying incessantly. That was your milk. Your food. It was meant for your perfect, little, soft mouth, not for a cold, hard, plastic cone.
For many months, I had been looking forward to breastfeeding you. Daddy got us a beautiful rocking chair and I had pictured you nestled comfortably in my arms, freshly bathed, in a sky-blue cotton onesie, with your lips latched onto my breast, suckling mommy's milk.
It's been nine days since your birth and I can't help but wonder how many baths I would've given you by now or how many times you would've fallen asleep on my chest with our hearts side by side, beating in sync or how many pet-names I'd have for you. Your brothers know how much momma loves pet-names. Honey-bear, snuggle-muffin, sugar-plum...those are just a few of my favorite.
I miss you, angel. I keep trying to figure out why God needed you more than I did, but I suppose it really doesn't matter. Nothing will make this pain go away. I ache inside, every second of every day. It makes me angry and jealous when I think of all the mommas who got to leave the hospital with their precious, little bundles and I left with a memory box. I can't even bring myself to look inside the box yet. I know what's in it- some pictures, a cast of your sweet, tiny feet, a lock of your hair, your hand and foot prints, the only little outfit you ever wore, the blanket you were wrapped in....I just don't know how long it'll be before I have the courage to look at it.
My sweet Ian, I want you to know momma loves you. I always did. When I found out you were coming, I was very confused and lost, but I always loved you. For the rest of my life, I will feel like something is missing. The day God decides to take me too, I will not be afraid, because I know you will be waiting for me and I will hold you and kiss you endlessly for all of eternity.
I love you, my little darling.
Love,
Mommy
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Heartbroken
This heartache is almost unbearable. The tears won't stop. I can still smell him on me. That sweet, fresh baby smell is impregnated into my skin. Every time I close my eyes I see his face. I wish I could've seen his eyes just once.
On Friday night, Joe and I decided it was best if the nurse took his body away. We knew we had to say goodbye at some point and we didn't want it to be as we left the hospital. We both held him for a while and told him how much we loved him. We cried together and told him how sorry we were that we couldn't save him. We rubbed our faces against his and kissed him as much as we could. Joe told the nurse she could take him. It hurt so bad knowing he'd be going to the morgue and not the nursery. We watched her as she pulled his little bed out, knowing that would be the last time we'd see him. Joe laid behind me, with his arms around my shoulders and we sobbed together.
I could've never done that alone. I'm so grateful my husband was there to share the pain with me.
Yesterday I lost it. I screamed and cried uncontrollably. Joe tried his best to hold me, but I didn't want to be held. I didn't want anything but my baby. The same one I carried inside me for 39 weeks. The one who made me nauseous and tired and hungry for so long. The one who I longed to hold and feed and bathe. I wanted to feel his slippery little body in my arms. Nothing else would please me. No words of comforts or hugs or bible verses. Nothing.
I ripped a box of his clothes open and I held them tight against my chest. Hot tears made their way across my cheeks.
What am I supposed to do with all this sadness? The days seem so long. The nights seem even longer. I can't function. My life will never be the same...
