A bad day
One thing I forgot to mention was that I also asked the midwife about Devin’s size. He weighed only 4lb 10.5oz at nearly 36 weeks gestation and we thought that seemed rather small. But the midwife said that he would have been around 6.5 lbs at full term, which is completely normal. I guess it’s just a lot smaller than what I was expecting. It seems that he was a smaller baby. I always just figured I’d have a bigger baby… not sure why.
It’s been a rough day. Just… rough. I was snappish with the dogs all day, blowing my top every time they barked (which is frequently, since with the windows all open they are hearing and reacting to every. little. sound). I nearly threw a fit because the floors are dirty and I just can’t stand the feel of dirt under my feet. I wasn’t even feeling very cuddly with Den (until we went to bed, then I was fine).
I just can’t stop thinking about Devin. All day, every minute, I’ve been thinking about him. And not in that fond-memory kind of way, in the I-can’t-believe-this-got-taken-from-us way. I saw a baby on a commercial and could barely breathe. I stared, fixated on the little baby arms and thinking about babies dressed in a onesies and oh god it just broke my heart all over again. Getting through the day feels like swimming through sludge. I can’t see ahead of me, I can’t breathe, and moving takes do much damn effort.
Sometimes I try rationalizing it. I think about it philosophically. What I wrote yesterday is true in a physical sense: we’re pretty much where we were before. Before we got pregnant we were infertile, not pregnant, and didn’t have a baby. Now we’re most likely still infertile, not pregnant, and don’t have a baby. If I had never gotten pregnant I wouldn’t have this huge hole in my heart, not like this. I would be mourning the fact that we don’t have a baby still, but I wouldn’t be bogged down with thoughts of this one baby. And I guess a part of me just can’t quite understand why it hurts so damn much. We didn’t know him, other than the kicks he gave. How could he possibly be the “perfect” baby? Won’t our next one be just as perfect? Aren’t the what-ifs just caused by my own mind?
And yes, some days I just want to run away from it all. I want to shut off that part of my brain and go back to my old life, the life of the Natalie who didn’t hurt all the damn time. But then I realize what I wished for and I feel guilty, so very guilty. I never want to forget, but how can you move on when you’re clinging to what should have been? I’m still trying to dis-entangle it all.
I’m trying to avoid all things baby right now. Even friends. I just can’t handle any cute pictures or stories. Not today. If the baby shower were today I would definitely not be going. But it’s not until Sunday (I thought it was Saturday, I was wrong), so I’ll see how I feel then. The moods really seem to swing pretty heavy from day to day… there is no predicting.
I finally booked my first dentist appointment for next week. I have put off going to the dentist for years now, but they’re hurting so bad right now… I’m still majorly clenching my jaw, and I know I am. I do it all day long and I have to keep mentally reminding myself to cut it out – a lot of times I don’t notice until it’s hurting. Plus my teeth in general, I know they need to be taken care of. I told my boss that I’m in a bad spot emotionally, so I’m trying to take care of myself physically. I want to get things taken care of before I get pregnant again… start off on the right foot, I guess.
Oh Natalie – if you didn’t care so much, it wouldn’t hurt so much. You expected to spend a lifetime getting to know Devin and loving him and that was taken away. It sucks – and even that doesn’t adequately describe it. Despite what some of society (who has no clue) would have you believe – the amount of hurt you feel over a loss is not relative to how much you “knew” them, it’s the attachment. You were forging that attachment long before you saw his face.
Sending you thoughts of peace and comfort.
I’m sorry you are feeling so blue. I saw this song on another blog dealing with infertility and I fell in love with it. It’s not to make you feel worse, it’s just song that can relate to your pain. The video is on you tube. Here’s the link:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=pFbjE7NFmUI
Oh, Natalie, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine what you’re going through and how hard this must be.
If you need a friend, I’m around.
*hugs*
I am sorry for the rough day. Julia said it amazingly though, it’s about the attachment. It’s about the dreams you had for Devin, for *that* baby. You lost his future, and that just plain sucks.
Thinking of you. Don’t pressure yourself too much over the shower.
g
What you are going through is TOTALLY normal as is your grief. You DID know your baby – more intimately than anyone ever could. It is ok to feel this awful – even if it is too painful.
hugs you
jen
I’m with Julia.
((((hugs))))
You hit it on the head — when you lose a baby the really surreal thing is that it’s exactly as it was before. Except it’s not. Not remotely. But to everyone else it looks that way. And you know it’s awful and will never be the same again.
Really sorry about the jaw — I do that all the time. Someone recommended neck massage to me — haven’t had time (still booking a million appointments for the foot). Let me know what transpires.
I was asking myself that– what is it I am missing about a baby I never got to see until after he was gone. I finally decided that I am missing all these things I will never know. The color of his eyes, for example. His sister’s changed so much. What would have his been? That’s just for starters. Would he have adored his big sister? Would he have liked buckwheat? You know, a million little things we are supposed to know, to discover about our children. And this is no longer an abstract baby you long for. It’s your flesh and blood. Your boy with long fingers. Would he have played piano or basketball with those? Neither? So much, so much to never know. The absence of presence. Not of an abstract presence anymore. Of your particular son. Surreal and crushing absence.
Natalie…I still feel the same way as you at times and it’s been almost 6 years. Ofcourse I don’t hurt or ache the same way I did when we lost him but none the less I still am saddened by the fact that he’s not with us and he/we are missing so much. Even though we’ve been blessed with two beautiful children after we’ve never forgotten what might have been or all of the hopes and dreams we had for him. He is always with me and I guess I try to see him through my other two and visualize what he’d look like or what his personality would be like through them. But when I didn’t have my other two I avoided babies, showers, friends who were pregnant or just had babies…it was just too painful. It was probably a good 6 mos or more (that was the time table our OB gave us until we could ttc again) before I could even begin to see babies without feeling anger, sadness, and etc. Some days were better than others and all I can say is that time does heal your heart…it doesn’t close the hole but it won’t always hurt as much as it does today.
Julia’s last remark sent goosebumps all along my skin. I don’t think anyone has put it more eloquently than she. “Your boy with long fingers”
Light, is there anything more beautiful than that? And more sad?
Thinking of you today.
The feeling of moving through sludge is exactly right. And the loss of that attachment, the relationship you had with your son.
In 2 and half years, of infertility, I had 3 chemical pregnancies, and then the 20 week pg that ended with pPROM and the loss of my sons. My sister had one very low hcg chemical pregnancy in 5 years of infertility, despite endless IVFs and other treatments. Which is worse? I don’t think it matters. They’re different losses.
Will I ever have a child? Will I ever have a living child? Will I ever get to know my child? Will I ever get to feel that way? Will I ever get to feel that way again?
Hurting for you, and your loss of “your boy with long fingers.”
Hurting for all of us.