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Stuck February 6, 2012

Posted by dreamom in Faith, family, Fears, Life, Pregnancy Loss.
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When I wrote the other day my emotions were still quite raw, and reading back it is all still true – even as some of the rawness is scabbing over.  That was a few days ago, but it feels like months.  Time is moving both fast and slow, and I am left in a weird state of awareness of where we are, compared to where we are going.  It is like in a movie when everything is a whirl moving fast around the character standing still.

This experience earned me membership to a special Facebook group.  It is one designed to let women connect and support each other as they have all experienced a pregnancy loss.  Quite frankly it isn’t a group I want to be in.  I want to be naive to this reality – but that is not possible.  This is permanently etched as part of my story.  Sometimes I retreat to that group, but other time I want to run from it, as I can get overwhelmed by the pain of the stories unfolding there.  It is okay though because they are all the same.  Vacilating between heartbreak, happiness and envy.  No matter what there is the steady support regardless of where you are.  It is refreshing despite the painful parts.

I have learned that as a victim of this tragedy I have a huge responsibility to others.  When people ask how I am chances are they want me to say “Ok”, not the truth.  This isn’t true of everyone, and some might not think that they expect this.  The fact is that if I tell you I am not fine and I have to pick up the pieces and console you from witnessing the pain I am experiencing – that I can’t tell you the truth, and I have a hard time lying about it as it seems to defile the enormity of finding your your child is dead.  If you want to hear about such an awkward situation ask the cashier of the dollar store where I was buying a stamp pad to make a foot print of our angel baby once it is born.  I can’t say “fine” and not mean it – I never know what is going to fall out instead.  Result?  One of the most terrifying phrases is “How are you?”.

Another responsibility I have is make the choices that everyone else would.  Maybe that choice is a D&C, or medical induction, or natural induction, or waiting for a natural miscarriage.  Whatever I choose (with the information I have been presented and chased down) I am doing the wrong thing.  Someone thinks I am being foolish in trying to avoid the inevitable, or I am going through unnecessary pain when it can all be over like ‘that’, or I am not utilizing everything available, and finally I am putting my life and health at risk unnecessarily (not true btw).  Whatever I choose is my choice, and my responsibility to carry out responsibly.  I might be the only one who sees it that way though, because I have to defend my choice to everyone.

I also have the responsibility to protect other people’s emotions.  As cut up and wrecked as I am about what happened, there are people who are more emotional about it than I am.  It isn’t that I don’t feel that gut wrenching pain – but I need to function – I need to work toward a place of accepting that.  I can’t do that when  I am dragged back over, and over again into the ocean of emotions that threaten to overtake me at any minute.  I am not ignoring them, avoiding them, or bottling them up.  I have to give them a space, and I need to keep it in its space.  PLEASE let me take the lead on expressing emotion – that is not to say you can’t ask, but hugging, crying, etc – let me lead – it is my tragedy.  Maybe this same event is a tragedy for you as well – as it is for our families.  It is not my job to help you deal with that – if you are with me – let me determine the level of emotion.

As far as I have come in the past few days I am still stuck.  I accept that the baby is gone.  I accept that there are limits to what I can do with the remains of my child as there is a chance that to the medical community it will be nothing more than expelled tissue, despite having all the features of a person.  I accept that how we treat the remains is NOT my choice.  I have learned that women can choose to terminate a pregnancy, but they cannot choose to have their lost child treated as a person.  I accept that I am going to experience physical pain, and have nothing to show for it other that a memorial somewhere, and a broken heart.  I accept that I will experience emotional anguish beyond that brought on by the tragedy itself as a result of my hormones adjusting from “pregnant” to “not pregnant”.  I accept that I have a husband and children to walk through the grief as I pave the path.  I accept the new fear that ‘you never know’ while still trying to trust.  I am ready for this next step.  Something isn’t.  I don’t know what, but as I type my child, who is no longer of this world, is nestled in my womb.  How do you mourn something you haven’t lost yet?  How do I dream of forcing the tiny body from mine when it is clear that it is still here for a reason.  Do I have to prepare physically? Mentally? What is it that is making it hang on so tight to a mama that can no longer meet it’s needs?

Through all of this I HAVE to trust in God.  He has a plan for me, and for my child – me on earth, and my child in heaven.  The truth is my child is already in heaven, and I missed  it.  I didn’t know.  I thought it was here to stay.  How naive to think I could foresee the plan…  So.  I trust, and I put one foot in front of another, and I dream of seeing my child’s body for the brief moments it will be in the span of a life.  I will never know my child this side of heaven.  I can’t fight letting go – it is gone already.  Oh my sweet babe.  Your mama loves you.  Will always love you.  I can’t wait to get to know you in heaven.  Can we both move to the next step now?

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Comments»

1. Christina Sexton-Seibert - February 8, 2012

I have been where you are and it is so terribly difficult. You take care of yourself and never concern yourself with other people’s opinions about how you should move forward or what your grieving process will be. Your faith will see you through but even through faith you are allowed to feel loss and grieve.


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