Archive for May, 2008

right back to the start.

{ May 21, 2008 @ 7:04 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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Fuck. Today started out like any other day. By the time we got our asses in gear, and headed out to playgroup (parent attended) I was feeling pretty good. Today the kids got access to the gym, so that was great, E loves the gym. Sitting around enjoying everyone’s company when all of a sudden….. in walks a family with their son, and their newborn baby girl. Wow. Probably not a week old, with hair just like I’s. Head shape even similar. I mean, how different are newborns anyway? Swathed in pink, sleep deprived parents, big brother running around. It was unbearable. While everyone oohed and ahed over the newborn and how beautiful she was, for a newborn, I clung to my son for life. I plunged into the water table with him. Then dinosaurs at the sand table. Whatever he wanted. With my back turned the whole time. At one point, the leader even came near me holding the baby, and I completely averted my eyes, and stared at the toys I was ‘playing’ with. I think I almost caught a glimpse of her looking at me like.. ‘what’s the matter with you? I’m holding an adorable newborn baby girl, and you don’t want to see?’. I prayed the baby wouldn’t wake up and cry that unmistakable newborn cry, but of course, she did. And, of course, mom breastfed her. I nearly crumpled to the ground. 8 months, and I can still barely hold it together. What the fuck have I been doing all this time? Faking it? Distracting myself with mundane meaningless bullshit? Who gives a fuck about any of it, new vehicles, new golf clubs.. getting into photography.. it’s all just expensive distractions… from the reality that I’m fucked. My daughter is dead, all I want is her back with me, and I can’t have it. So for the rest of my life, I get to distract myself from it so I can function for the sake of my son. Not something I would bother with if he didn’t exist. I barely find the desire to be here as it is. I find ‘living’ SUCH an effort now. I hate getting up in the morning. I hate being needed by my son. I hate having commitments to the world; playschool, relatives, family, crap, crap, crap. I would really just like to crawl into a hole and die there. If E ever dies, I guarantee this is what I’ll do. I don’t know what I’d do about my husband though, because I love him dearly, and know it would devastate him. But, I think sometimes, he’d be better off without me. He is strong, ambitious, smart and able. I am a crutch. I hold him back. It would probably be a blessing in the long run, to be without me. He has so much potential to succeed in the world and I hold him firmly back in my own agony. I suck.

8 months… and counting

{ May 20, 2008 @ 5:28 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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So, mother’s day. My wonderful mom remembered me. She wished me a happy m day on the phone, but didn’t mention my daughter, or how hard the day might be for me. But she sent me a card, and it was perfect. She knew. I miss her. :(   I miss my mom.  My son is a bit ‘off’ this morning. Colour is off a bit, seems lethargic, limpish.. I can’t believe how bad I freak out when he’s sick. I am sure something’s wrong, serious. I can’t even just accept that he’s got a bug.  He rarely gets sick, so when he does, it should be no surprise, yet every time, sends me into a tailspin of worry, dreading the worst..that this is the beginning of cancer, or he’s on the brink of a fatal asthma attack… I am truly a prisoner of my own crazy mind sometimes. Just a few moments of peace and clarity today, please.
8 months. Here we are. 3/4 of a year gone since my daughter was born and died… Yesterday we went out for lunch, to blow off steam, as it had been a wretched day, and naturally, we get sat in a section with one other family who has, yes, you guessed it an 8 (or so) month old baby girl. Wow, we must have really misbehaved in a prior life. Agony. Now I think of all the things she’d be doing at 8 months. Lots of table foods, she’d be my son’s biggest fan, he’d adore her. We’d all hang out on weekends, cheering him on at soccer and Tball, swimming altogether. She’d have the most adorable baby clothes. Seriously, something I’ve looked forward to about motherhood since I was about 10 was buying baby girl clothes. Sundresses, sandals, tights, buckle shoes, shiny black ones. Hair  barrettes, pony tails, frilly bonnets, the whole works. Gone. Had it, but now gone. She wasn’t even cremated in anything cute. Just what the hospital had on hand, as we weren’t expecting any of this.
So this month was wonky in terms of ttc. I fully expect, based on my history, to ovulate by day 14. By day 18 or so, I still hadn’t. Dtd as required, but no temp rise… don’t know why,. probably too much estrogen, probably too fat to ovulate without clomid… now I not only have only one child, I likely won’t have another. I did get  a rise today, but so many things come into play. Hot bed, off timed temp… but in the hotel, on the day of the expected rise, we had the ac on, so maybe I was colder than I would have been? I don’t know. I never know. I keep track because I need some control in my life, and I guess to ensure that I ovulate at all. Weight watchers … yeah… lets save that for another post. There’s enough bleakness here for one day. I’m glad it’s raining.  I love bad weather. The windier, rainier, darker, the better. Sunny days are way too happy for me.

perspective

{ May 13, 2008 @ 5:04 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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So, I found another bereaved parent’s blog. I don’t think I’ve ever read a more eloquent, hopeful, painful or beautiful thing, in my life. I remember reading a similar blog a few months ago. Similar in love,  pain and expression, but it was heavily Christian, filled with scripture and other religious leanings I could not relate to. This one however, is more spiritual, more accessible to the secular mind.  I am humbled and awed by this woman’s ability to see so much goodness in the world around her, amidst her unbelievable loss. It forces me out of my ‘poor me gutter’. Not that I don’t feel worthy of grief, or mourning, but rather, it forces me to see beyond my own experience, and realize that tragedy is everywhere, Everywhere. My coping mechanisms are only somewhat decided by nature. They are also decided by me. While I do feel quite sad very often, I wonder how capable I am of stretching beyond the comfort zone of my walls. Is it in everyone to find hope and beauty the way this woman has? Or are we assigned a certain ‘way’ of being at birth? In her posts, I see a desire to be that way; to embrace life, and not take a single second for granted, yet my thoughts automatically trickle back to their old familiar streams of resentment, hate, bitterness and poor me.  I can say the words, but can I mean them? Truly, in my heart? I don’t know. My husband is an existentialist, and firmly believes our destiny to be in our own hands, while I tend to believe certain forces may be at work to steer us in certain directions, not necessarily religiously so, but more spiritually. By his way of thinking, I am absolutely free to become less bitter and more embracing of the world, in all it’s beauty and pain. But I just don’t know. If I say it, but don’t truly believe it, what’s the point? How can I *believe* it? How can I *know* it to be true for me? That’s my struggle. It’s like proving God. I *want* to believe in a creator, a being to pray to etc, but I *can’t*. It’s not part of my belief system and I can’t just start believing. And I resent that. I seem to resent so much, and be filled with so much anger and spite, I can hardly stand myself. I have my first grief session tomorrow. My issues with depression and anxiety go beyond grief, so I am more nervous than I would be were I only seeking grief counselling. For years, I’ve struggled with issues related to my mental health, and I am *finally* Finally reaching out for help. I’m scared at what she’ll uncover, what I’ll have to deal with, what I’ll have to delve into, and subsequently deal with. I’m an expert at putting issues at the back of the drawer, and now I’ll have to dig them all out. I’m scared. I’m hopeful, and relieved that I’ve finally done it, but I’m scared.

New stomping grounds..

{ May 5, 2008 @ 8:18 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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so, I have another blog elsewhere on the web that details my journey through surviving my daughter’s death. However, it became too public, in the sense that people very close to me were reading it, who were not intended to. It became awkward to write, knowing they’d read it, and I found I was censoring myself which really, defeats the purpose of writing it in the first place. So, here I am. Welcome, or welcome back, whichever the case may be. If you were reading my blog before, thanks for continuing to do so. If you are new, and found this through a search because of your own loss, I am terribly, terribly sorry, and hope you find some comfort in my words, and in the words of my fellow bereaved parents who are also sharing their journeys through blogging.

However, I feel the beginning of my journey is contained in that blog, so I will link it here. All I ask, is that comments are left only on this blog, as I am not updating the other one, and don’t often check it.  To read how my story began, please follow the link below. Thanks.

miislasola.blogspot.com