Relaxing Doesn't Make Babies

Disbelief

March 21, 2008 — 2:02 am

My mind is just swirling tonight. I think part of the reason I feel so numb is that I’m still in a state of disbelief. How can my baby be dead? How could the person I carried for 8 months be gone? How can that even happen to me?

Being infertile sucked, but I accepted it just like I accepted my depression… it was a state of being, my body was broken and needed help. I was angry about it, I was frustrated, I was bitter, but I accepted it.

But this? Something aweful happened to me. To me. Nothing terrible has ever happened to me. Oh my first boyfriend broke up with me many moons ago, and I cried terrible, heart-wrenching tears back then over it. But breaking up with your boyfriend, that happens to normal people. This is… this is just terrible. The odds are stacked against it. You hear stories of it happening to people, to strangers. And you feel sad about it, and you shiver because you just don’t want to think about things like that happening. But you never think it’s going to happen to YOU. Ever. Not once did it go through my head. I worried a little about miscarrying – that happens to a lot of people. But I was way past that. I was worried about preterm labor, having a baby too early. But you never think it’s just going to be OVER. Just like that. Nothing anyone can do. Freak accident. You’re that exception to the rule. You’re that person the bad thing happened to.

And I’m just… struggling to accept that. My entire life got flipped entirely upside down, just like that, and I’m just sitting on the floor with my mouth hanging open. I’m in some alternate reality and there’s a part of me that’s still waiting to find that magic gate back to normal reality. The one where bad things just don’t happen. Not like that.

Did I mention I’ve gotten a little bit paranoid? I keep having these fears that Den will get into an accident or something. I get nervous when he’s not at home. I get nervous when he is home. I know that bad things can and do happen. I don’t feel safe anymore.

13 responses to “Disbelief”

  1. Jade says:

    I’m so so sorry. Losing Devin just sucks beyond belief.

  2. Lannie says:

    That’s just so understandable. I’m so sorry :(
    *big hug*

  3. Jess says:

    *hugs*

  4. Morrisa says:

    I cry every time I read your posts. I wish I had the words to say, to tell you that it will be alright. I’m so so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine the pain you must be feeling. ((hugs))

  5. Ali says:

    *hugs* I hope one day you will be able to feel safe again. Right now I think it’s only natural. I can only imagine what you are going thru hun. Things will be okay again, maybe not soon, but someday. Just remember there are tons of us out here that love the two of you and will help you with whatever we can, even if it’s just listening to you while you vent, cry or tell stories. We are here to help you through this.

  6. CLC says:

    I feel the same way. I wasn’t oblivious to stillbirth, I just never thought it would happen to me. And I have been a freak ever since, always expecting the worse, assuming my husband will die in a car accident or something. I think that’s normal though. We know death now, and how truly fragile life is. It really can end at any second for anyone, and we have first-hand experience with that. I am sorry again.

  7. JuliaS says:

    After my first losses I became paranoid too. Dh could be just a few minutes lates and I would come completely unglued certain something had happened to him. It became so bad I had a contingency planned worked up – all the things I would do when (not if) something happened to him and I was alone. Sadly – I think this is a normal variant of grief. Once the awful happens to you – you wonder what’s to stop it from happening again. I called it – learning to live again.

    Hugs.

  8. Emerald Rose says:

    Yep, the disbelief is familiar. All the things you are feeling are familiar. However, you may not want to read this: the numbness, immense grief and tears will slowly start to fade away. You will cry, but not as often as now. You will grieve and continue to grieve, but it won’t take over your life. The numbness will be replaced by life and the will to carry on.

    I also worried when my husband wasn’t home. I worried when he was at work; worried that something would happen to him. It’s natural to feel this about your husband too. You’ve suffered a great loss, so it’s not surprising you feel this way. This too will subside.

    Continuing to pray for you!

  9. tash says:

    Yup. I think with IF there’s a sense that “well, we can FIX this, RIGHT? (RIGHT??!!!)” and this? Ain’t no fixing this. I had the same horrible daymares about my husband and my living child. Getting into car accidents, my kid skipping off the curb, except in really hideous minute detail. I would actually sit by the phone during the time my husband was en route to work, wondering how I was going to negotiate my kid and get to the hospital. Sadly, anxiety of this type is totally normal. I’m just really really sorry you need to go through it.

  10. karla says:

    I was paranoid that something would happen to my husband and the people I needed and loved too. It was awful. Going out into public was anxiety ridden and I could barely handle it for the first month. Then it started to get better as I felt my balance return. Losing a child so late in your pregnancy is just total shock. I found it very difficult to wrap my brain around losing my son at 19 weeks, let alone 35/36. Your world has been shook violently and now you’re trying to find equilibrium again. Anxiety sets in until you can find your center again. I believe completely that you will find it once more.

  11. Ashley L. says:

    Your post was gut-wrenching. A counselor once told me that parents who loose a child, the most horrilbe kind of loss a human would ever have to endure, they go one of two ways. Some never recover and live a life filled with sadness, despair, panic, and fear. Others fight through the pain of their loss by doing some type of crusade and work for some cause. It’s the only way to find any kind of peace or hope in a senseless tragedy. Perhaps, a long time from now, you’ll find a cause to work for..a group that educates about stillbirth an pregnancy loss to hospital staff, other grieving parents, something. It is too soon now to think of that, but maybe when you catch your breath. You are living a nightmare that I can’t imagine, and everything you describe makes perfect sense to me. I am so sorry this has happened. My love and thoughts and prayers are yours.

  12. luna says:

    so sorry natalie. I know it’s hard to take any comfort when your world is upside down and makes no sense and you wonder how you got there. I’m just sorry. ~luna

  13. G says:

    I am so sorry you have to go through this. It’s so hard to understand how this terrible thing can happen to you. I dont think you ever really fully understand, you just learn to cope.

    I had (still do) the same fears about my husband. He is all I have left now that the baby is gone. I have never felt that level of anxiety before. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to his hand on my back, checking on me, because he has the same fear.