Like a Buick
A big old rusty piece of shit that just slams into you, stops, backs over your broken body, and parks on top of your chest.
It hit me tonight.
I have spent the past 3 hours just bawling my stupid eyes out and sobbing into my pillow, my hands, a towel, my desk, the dog...
I guess denial comes in many forms. I, of course, could not deny that I've lost the baby, the baby is dead; instead, I stunned my psyche but for a little while by asserting that it didn't bother me all that much.
It does, though. It bothers me very much.
I stood in Nick's room, thinking about yet another occupant that was denied it's use. I looked at all the new baby stuff, wondering what in the hell we should do with all of it. Save it for "the next try"? Give it all away? Let it continue gathering dust, and keep it as a reminder of the complete and utter waste of fucking time this year has become?
I wish I had held my baby longer. Both of them. But tonight's focus is on the Maybe, not Nick (for once), and how I wish I would have allowed myself to care.
I lay in bed, stroking my belly, remembering how I tried to feel the lump. Was that movement I thought I had felt the other day? I remember mentally planning for daycare, summer vacation, kindergarten. How this one was going to be different. This one would make it, and erase all my pain. I wish I'd have allowed it to creep into my heart, and seem real.
I remember how I felt after Nicholas died. I remember my plan. I wish I'd had kept that bottle of insulin. I threw it away when I got pregnant with this Maybe. If I'd have kept it, I'd have two vials now, that would surely do the trick.
I wish I had spoken to it. I wish I had unwrapped it one last time in the ER, and looked at it longer, touched it, told it goodbye. Thanked it, for a few weeks of happiness.
I wish god/the universe/fate/whatever didn't feel the overwhelmingly intense need to fuck with me. What is the point to this all, exactly? After trying for so many long, torturous years, I finally got pregnant. God said, here you go, you've earned it. Whoops! Changed my mind! HAHA! That was fun.
Then, we got another chance. We didn't lose that one. I carried Nick for 35 glorious weeks. He was our boy. Our other son. Our family was complete. Our world revolved around him. God said, OK, times up. How does it feel to want? Haha, Suckers!
With the Maybe, things seemed fine. I mean, really, how unlucky can one family be? Like a donkey chasing a carrot on a stick, I was foolish enough to think I was being cut a break, this time. My, how stupid one can be when you allow hope into your life.
Gerry has a saying... "Wish in one hand and shit in the other - see which one fills up faster".
It hit me tonight.
I have spent the past 3 hours just bawling my stupid eyes out and sobbing into my pillow, my hands, a towel, my desk, the dog...
I guess denial comes in many forms. I, of course, could not deny that I've lost the baby, the baby is dead; instead, I stunned my psyche but for a little while by asserting that it didn't bother me all that much.
It does, though. It bothers me very much.
I stood in Nick's room, thinking about yet another occupant that was denied it's use. I looked at all the new baby stuff, wondering what in the hell we should do with all of it. Save it for "the next try"? Give it all away? Let it continue gathering dust, and keep it as a reminder of the complete and utter waste of fucking time this year has become?
I wish I had held my baby longer. Both of them. But tonight's focus is on the Maybe, not Nick (for once), and how I wish I would have allowed myself to care.
I lay in bed, stroking my belly, remembering how I tried to feel the lump. Was that movement I thought I had felt the other day? I remember mentally planning for daycare, summer vacation, kindergarten. How this one was going to be different. This one would make it, and erase all my pain. I wish I'd have allowed it to creep into my heart, and seem real.
I remember how I felt after Nicholas died. I remember my plan. I wish I'd had kept that bottle of insulin. I threw it away when I got pregnant with this Maybe. If I'd have kept it, I'd have two vials now, that would surely do the trick.
I wish I had spoken to it. I wish I had unwrapped it one last time in the ER, and looked at it longer, touched it, told it goodbye. Thanked it, for a few weeks of happiness.
I wish god/the universe/fate/whatever didn't feel the overwhelmingly intense need to fuck with me. What is the point to this all, exactly? After trying for so many long, torturous years, I finally got pregnant. God said, here you go, you've earned it. Whoops! Changed my mind! HAHA! That was fun.
Then, we got another chance. We didn't lose that one. I carried Nick for 35 glorious weeks. He was our boy. Our other son. Our family was complete. Our world revolved around him. God said, OK, times up. How does it feel to want? Haha, Suckers!
With the Maybe, things seemed fine. I mean, really, how unlucky can one family be? Like a donkey chasing a carrot on a stick, I was foolish enough to think I was being cut a break, this time. My, how stupid one can be when you allow hope into your life.
Gerry has a saying... "Wish in one hand and shit in the other - see which one fills up faster".
posted by Julie at 2:31 AM
10 Comments:
My God, Julie. My heart is breaking for you and the loss of your Maybe. For all your devastating losses. I know that that the coming time will be unutterably awful -- but I hope you can keep from asking yourself those questions about whether you should have felt something different during the pregnancy or done something different to say goodbye. You did honor your Maybe, and you are honoring the little one now. The love was always there.
I wish you strength and (eventually, when it becomes bearable again) hope. And most of all, I wish to God/the universe/fate that this crap would END. That's enough sadism now, guys. Go find a more constructive project, wouldja? Get out of that old Buick and hand over the fucking keys.
Please know that there are so many of us out there thinking of you and wishing you healing.
I'm in tears. You describe your pain really well, and I'm hurting for you. I don't know exactly what you're going through but I do know that you will make it through this...
Honestly, if there is anything I can ever do, I'm just "up the road apiece"...
Julie I'm so very sorry. I can only imagine how awful this feels. Wishing you a bit of piece amongst the pain over the next weeks and months.
For years people would ask me if I had a stomachache, because my hand would always land on my stomach, like others' go to their noses or pockets. I didn't know why.
Then I got pregnant, and to this day when I become aware that my hand is again on my belly I take it away. Because now I know what I wanted all that time, and can't have it.
oh, julie - i wish i could offer you something to make it all better, but i'm fresh out of magic beans. so instead, i will wish for you all the space you need to process the loss of the maybe and unlimited comfort.
I had hoped to god that the pain of losing Nick would somehow protect you from the crushing weight of the loss of Maybe.
When I was 4 I also believed wholeheartedly that fairies were real. Talk about hoping for the ridiculous:(
Your pain is breathtaking and it is something I understand too well. I am holding you in my thoughts and hoping you can find some comfort:(
I am so incredibly sorry. There are no words.
Julie,
I'm so sorry. I feel your pain so intensely and I wish there was some way I could take it away. It's so not fair. I don't know what else to say. It's just not fair. :(
I am so sorry that you have to plunge into the searing pain again.
I just found your blog and wanted to tell you that I am so sorry about your losses. My heart goes out to you.
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