Mi Isla Sola

The past two weeks have been very hard for some reason. It’s odd, because finally, FINALLY, we’re coming out of winter. The days are longer, brighter, and warmer.  Yet I seem to be sinking into a deep cold dark pit of gloom.  I’ve developed a thick skin over the last year and a half; an ability to see things that hurt like crazy and just hold them at bay.. survive the hurt, just for that day. I pick myself up, dust myself off, and continue forward.  But I am finding this skin thinning out. I am vulnerable to the smallest triggers. It takes little to bring me to tears these days, and I am angry and frustrated by it.  I hate this familiar old feeling of being completely out of control of my emotions, my responses to the world. It’s awful, alienating and lonely.

A 20 month old girl at Evan’s playschool charming the pants off everyone with her curls and her words “shoe” and “Co..” (saying Cole, big brother’s name).  I watched her though it pained me so much to do so.. I imagined my own 18 month old there, playing with her.. wondered what she’d be saying.. would she say shoe too? Would  she say Evan? God it hurt so much. I had to leave, wait outside. The indulgence of imagining her growing up, learning words, her family, existing in the world just blew me apart. She wouldn’t be that newborn baby in my arms anymore.. She’d be walking, talking, laughing, learning. And it’s struck me again what a tremendous loss this is. And how forever I will feel it, and miss her, and be acutely aware of all she is missing out on. All that I am missing out on.

Days go by, weeks even, where I feel like I am finally back on track..things feel so normal… then out of the blue comes a week or two where I just can’t cope with her not being here. It’s such a huge hurt, I can’t cope. I can think of  a thousand reasons why I should be happy and grateful, yet not one of them matters because my daughter is dead. And that casts a shadow over every joy, every gratitude, every happiness in my life.  Sometimes I just want to give up the fight. A lifetime of pain,  hurt and yearing is just unfathomable. God I miss you Isla. Your life has left such a hole in my heart.

I love you.

…no write… So, it’s been awhile. I’ve come and written a few words, only to abandon them, for lack of desire to continue. I’m at a point now (28 weeks) where I’ve almost given up control. I spent so much time on what ifs… and fear. Now I am basically numb. What is, is. I cannot even muster up enough confidence, or assurance that things will go well to convince myself. Baby is active and busy in there, and sometimes I don’t know how to feel about the kicks.. Sometimes, when it’s been a few hours since I noticed, I think  ‘okay.. the baby died.. now I just need a few more hours of stillness to confirm, then go to the hospital”… and there’s almost a sense of relief, like it’s over.. I can stop holding my breath.. I can move on, and be done with this. Then when I get a set of kicks, I feel overcome with relief. I guess I’m protecting myself, or feel like I am, and in doing so, pretending I don’t really care about this baby. It’s weird, I don’t think I’ve bonded well with this little bean at all. It feels what I suspect a surrogate pregnancy would feel like. Acknowledgement that yeah, there’s a baby in there, but it’s not mine.. or I won’t get to bring it home, or somehow, I’m not connected to it. With Isla, I was very bonded. I spent literally hours daydreaming, preparing, just imagining life with my 2 kids.. Now, even when we speak of times beyond my due date, we still only speak as a family of 3. I can’t actually imagine my life with another baby. It was weird to do so with Isla too, but this is different. This feels like I’m dreaming, and will wake up any second, and not be pregnant, or with a dead baby. I don’ t feel at all like I have 9 (!!!) weeks to go to deliver this child. Bizarre. I visited a friend in the hospital who just gave birth to her sub baby. She lost a girl (and had a sub boy) and I literally grilled her on how she was feeling afterwards… grief for her lost baby, joy for her new one, the works.. So far, it’s about what I expected.. lots of love and joy, but many tears too. I suppose nothing ever really ‘fixes’ one from a trauma like this. Anyway, I have so much more to say, but will save it for another day. Suffice to say, the next 9 weeks are going to be the fastest and the slowest of my life.  Not sure if this is a good or a bad thing.