The what ifs, would haves and should haves are relentless in their torment.
It dawned on me Friday that I'd have been 37 weeks pregnant with our twins by that date. I would likely have had a c-section one day this week since the plan is never to let me labor again.
What a different life I'm living than the one I should be.
Some might argue that this IS the life I'm meant to be living because I made my bed, as it were. I chose to try to have children, and try and try again after each loss. But it seems wrong to me. No life should have this much death in it. This much torment and struggle seems cruel and unusual to me, and I can't fathom that this is the way it should be.
I'm also very tormented by the fact that I know that the sorrow is draining me of energy and making it hard to truly see the joy that is in my life at the moment. I live in fear that I'm going to regret my single-minded focus one day, having, in hindsight, recognized what joys and loves I've allowed to let quietly slip away while I was busy grieving.
The thing is I don't know how to not be grieving. I don't know how you shut it off and ignore it. I don't know how to forget it.
I am almost always aware of my sorrow.
I don't enjoy the moments when I realize how pregnant I should be or how old one of my five dead babies would be. But the moments come to me just the same and I don't know how to stop them. I don't dwell on them either, but the fact that they come is torment enough.
My therapist says that all these moments of struggle are an opportunity to process more of my grief. I will be forever grateful to her for giving me permission to feel what I'm feeling and, more importantly, for telling me that it is my mind's way of healing.
Thomas' birthday is three weeks away. The twins should be here by now.
The house is silent.
It's just so much to process.
8 comments:
Hi - I read your blog all the time but I never comment, but today I just wanted to say, I'm so so sorry for your losses. I don't think life should have that much sorrow and death in it either. I'm sorry that you've experienced it so much in yours. Thank you for being so open in sharing your pain and loss and allowing me to share your sorrow with you. ~Angela
I am thinking of you, praying for you, and sending love your way today.
It IS a lot to process. For what it's worth, I think you're "processing" with more grace and beauty than I've ever seen from anyone else in my entire life.
{{{hugs}}}
These "anniversary" dates are soooo hard to get by... nearly 10 years later, I still think of my daughter every day, although the raw grief no longer consumes me (well, only on certain days...!). It sounds like you have a wonderful therapist! Keep writing, keep processing. We are here to read & listen. (((hugs)))
Your therapist rocks. She really does. And no, I can't imagine it will ever be possible to turn it off.
I am sorry these days are so tough on you. I will think of you in these weeks coming up on Thomas's birthday.
Yes, you are right. You have lost more than any mother ever should. I know my losses have most definitely robbed me of my ability to just relax and enjoy pregnancy. Death is in my every thought, where there should be life.
I'm with Catherine: you are processing with a grace that humbles me. But I am not sure that it feels that way to you. Grief is messy.
i do agree with your processing with grace. even through the muck and mire of your losses and the could have beens, you always write about being able to find happy moments in chocolate, in your garden, in your Beloved, in your fat kitty, among others! you have amazing insights into this awful world which has helped me immensely. thanks for sharing and being so open. lots of hugs to you.
My heart breaks again for you. Even though you see yourself as weak and sad, I see you as strong.
HUGS.
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