It has been almost 5 months, 152 days to be exact, since our son grew his angel wings.
Update on life after loss:
I have lost all (plus a few extra pounds) of my baby weight. I've been trying to fit back into more than just my clothes, though. I've been trying to fit back into life; but it's as if my shape has changed, and I can no longer fit into the shape I once filled. Trying to form a whole new shape can be exhausting and confusing to say the least.
The phantom kicks have subsided. That only means that Wyatt's kicks and squirms are becoming distant memories. I watch videos of him making my belly move to bring back those joyful memories when I feel as though they are starting to fade. Unfortunately, I still have not been able to watch his ultrasound video yet. I'm working up the courage.
I smile more. However, the smiles don't replace the tears...sometimes they simply cover them. Please just smile back...or cry. Your tears mean more to me than you will ever know. Tears show compassion and understanding of the depth of our feelings.
I haven't taken medication for pain or to ease my anxiety since May. Some days I can tell that my body and mind wish I would give in and allow them to feel the calmness that the medications provided. But I'm no wimp. If I can handle burying my son, then I can handle a little "odd" feeling in my chest.
I have successfully surpassed a few personal hurdles that only someone who has suffered a loss such as ours would understand: watching friends and loved ones welcome their newborns safely and happily into this world, plastering a smile on my face as someone announces their pregnancy, holding precious babies with my trembling arms and a racing mind, buying baby shower gifts and cards for expecting parents, speaking of our son with a smile instead of tears (not always), applying for and receiving a "birth certificate" for a child we never got to bring home, hearing/reading of milestones reached and seeing pictures of babies with their mommies and daddies wearing great big smiles as I long for mine (both the smile and the baby), gently touching the baby boy clothes with airplanes on them as tears roll down my cheeks (in public), and making plans--that's right--any plans, because anxiety is well known for trying to come on in and wanting to trample my hopes for a good day. These are feelings and scenes I'll have to battle forever, so please don't feel awkward around me if you fit into one of the above categories. Help me. Help me by not acting as though my loss is a disease and by not condemning my actions... even if you do not understand them entirely--you are lucky that you don't.
Some days it's like a dream--or a nightmare, I guess. I wake up thinking, "Did this really happen? Did I have months of heartburn and back pain as my little man was busy growing and getting stronger? Did I attend numerous doctor's appointments and hear his healthy heartbeat? Did I lay on an examination table as my world collapsed around me all becasue of a silent doppler? Did I have to tell my daughter that the little brother she had been waiting on would never be ours to keep? Did I carry a real being for 9 months only to deliver his body after his soul had already left? Did I hold and kiss the very real body of my lifeless baby? Did I watch my husband carry a miniature casket to our son's resting place? Did I kiss that cold, hard box and walk off to let someone bury my baby? Did I come home to an overly prepared baby nursery with empty arms?
yes. yes. yes. and yes.
And here I am, 152 days later. Still standing. Still thinking of him. Still missing him. Still wanting him. Still mourning him. Still loving him.
I am sitting here, bawling my eyes out...I feel exactly how you feel, and it doesn't get any easier. I actually did go on an antidepressant for my loss, and I skipped it for two days straight...and I could TRULY tell...I think of the baby every day, and hurt...but with the meds, the pain is subdued and more dull than it would be without them. It's crazy how it works. I wish this didn't happen to people, and I can only hope you and I find the comfort and strength we need to make it through the days. I wouldn't be standing here without your blog...and I tell anyone who will listen about Krystal, the brave young woman whose writings have helped me stay alive. Thank you very much for all of this. You will never know what your writing means to me.
ReplyDeleteCandace- I think of you and your little Andrew OFTEN. None of this is fair and it is all very sad, for lack of better words. I didn't mean to portray the taking of medications for emotional relief as a bad thing...it was merely my opinion on how they affected me. I completely understand that they are much needed, and some people simply need them for longer periods...no shame in that. I appreciate your kind comments about my writing...but the words are simple and true. You understand my feelings more than most of the readers, and for that I'm both grateful and sorry. I'm still hoping for peace...for the both of us. Keep your chin up and call me whenever you'd like.
DeleteThe same goes for you :)
DeleteAnd I took no offense to your opinion on medications. Everyone copes differently, and for you to say you're strong enough without the medication is a wonderful thing. It's nice having someone who feels what I feel, even though it was unfortunate events that we have in common. Thank you for your reply, and I am always here when you need me.
you my friend, are my hero. every single day, i am amazed by you and waylons strength.
ReplyDeleteThank you
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