I hate crying. I feel drained. In the hospital, between starting the process, and the moment before giving birth, I didn’t cry. I was dry. I had cried all the tears my body had for 24 hours and I laid there emotionless. Drained and dry. But the moment they placed Selah on my chest, the sobs came once again and they haven’t stopped. When people are around, I’m OK, but as soon as I sit alone, they come. hard and fast. drowning me. blinding me.
I took out the blanket that wrapped around Selah today. I looked at the blood stains and wept. Baby blankets aren’t suppose to have blood stains. I pulled out the cap they placed on her too little head and noticed it there too. blood.
I keep thinking about my two little girls. I always dreamed I would have a daughter and now I have two, but I will never be able to enjoy them or get to know them here on earth and that kills me. No one should have to go through a loss like this…but twice? That’s messed up.
I keep thinking about the chances of me carrying another child within me and delivering it alive and healthy. Will I ever get that chance again? Or are the risks to high to chance? I should feel blessed to have such an amazing son. And I do. I love Asher will all my heart. He’s amazing. But I want so badly to give him a sibling. I want so badly to be able to carry that sibling within me and birth him or her. But if we’re right and it’s a genetic thing…it probably will never happen again. Asher was my miracle baby. And how wonderful is that?!?! But it still kills me to think that I’ll never have another chance to become pregnant and carry a child to term and deliver a healthy baby. Steve is so hopeful…I’m so broken.
I’ve started nursing Asher again. My milk hasn’t come in…and I’m starting to wonder if it will…but he still nurses. It hurts right now. But I don’t care. The pain reminds me that I’m still alive. I wonder if my milk will eventually come in and if so, if Asher will continue to nurse. It brings me comfort right now. Being so close to him again. I watched him fall asleep on me this afternoon and I can’t explain the joy that brought me. It feels good knowing that the milk isn’t going to waste either. It’s as if Selah sent a gift down for her big brother.
I still can’t believe I’ve lost 2 children. It’s just not right. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I know I’ll be OK, but I really just feel gutted beyond belief. As if someone literally punched me so hard in the stomach that they were able to pull out all my insides. I want to be OK. I want to be able to enjoy Christmas. I love Christmas, but right now, I loathe it. I can’t wait to go to church tomorrow, but other than that, I’m not looking forward to it at all. This was our first Christmas at home. I wanted to start our traditions and enjoy the time at home, together. But I feel as if I just want the whole thing to just go away. And we have family coming and then we’re going to another family get together and I know people will come up to me and hug me and ask how I’m doing…and if they didn’t, I’d be totally offended!!! But if they do, I’m going to break down and bawl and shake and just want to leave. It just sucks.
And people watch your emotions and listen to your every word and judge you for everything. If you’re not crying, you must be completely insensitive and don’t care that your child just died…but if you do cry, they think you’re going to go off yourself. I remember that with Jorai. People would correct my answers or come across as if they think I didn’t care that I just lost a child. I was either too sensitive or not enough. It’s crazy. I remember when I called into my work and told my boss that Jorai had passed. She told a friend of mine that I wasn’t crying and how could someone who just lost a child not break down on the phone…as if she knew how I was feeling or that it took me about an hour to brave up the courage to call and even though my mom was sitting there telling me that she would call, I knew I had to do it myself. It’s just so bizarre.
The first few months are just so hard. People still will come up and ask when your due, or when I had the child…if it were a boy or girl…they don’t know any better, but it sure doesn’t help a grieving mama. I just don’t want to go through this again. But I know I have to. It’s my journey. It’s my cross to bare, whatever the hell that means. I know I need to find peace in this. I know I sound bitter and angry. It hurts to even read what I write at times. I guess I just never thought that I’d be here again. I never thought I’d have to relive the horror. I want to find peace in this hell. I’m searching for the light, but it’s eluding me. Please pray I can find it. Please pray that I can open up to Jesus again. I feel closed off. I can’t talk to Him right now. It hurts too much to talk to Him. and I hate that. I hate not going to Him. But I’m just so mad, that I can’t. I can’t.
Sorry this is so convoluted and hodge podge…I guess my thoughts and heart are so shattered all over the place that my words are getting spewed all around as well.