I'm amazed that when I look back to 13 years ago.....the dominant feeling that I get is anger. I feel cheated. I feel like no one else that I know had to endure this....why me? And then I feel bad. I mean "Why NOT me?" Her death has given me an appreciation for my living children that I don't think I ever could have had without her death. Then again, I'd give up this special "appreciation" to have my daughter here in a heartbeat. I also feel kind of "marked" and different. I feel like sometimes people look at me differently (if they even know about her) because of what I went through. Although if anyone else remembers but me, my husband and kids...they're not talking about it.
There's just this feeling everyday that something is missing. It doesn't hit when I first wake up - or before I go to bed. It's in the little things of everyday. Meeting someone new who poses the question to you of "How many kids do you have?" That one was SO hard inthe beginning. Now it's easy to answer 3....because I have three living children. I used to hem and ham and want to say something like "One on earth and one in heaven (when I just had one living child)".....but then you get those stares and sympathy looks and blank expressions.....and it's just easier to say "Three." No explanation needed. So am I denying her? No, I tell new people that I meet sometimes.....if I get to know them well and it comes up. But you know what? I still encounter that awkward silence....and then I end up feeling bad for bringing them down. Death is SO strange.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Thursday, May 3, 2007
The Beginning
13 years ago my daughter was stillborn. I think, to some people reading this, they might think "13 YEARS and you're not over this yet? What's WRONG with you?" Well, anyone who's been in my shoes knows that you never "get over it."
I was searching for a place to put my feelings specifically about my daughter. I found the pregnancy loss blog link....and felt like "Finally there's a place where I belong." Maybe no one will judge me there when I confess that I think about my daughter every single day. It's not the hysterical crying that took place 13 years ago....it's not the grieving fog that I lived in for a few years......it's just me....the different me that emerged 13 years ago. You know how you are never the same after this. You are completely different....at least I am. Heck, maybe it's just me that's different. I don't know.
I never went to a support group. I never went into therapy. I did join a group online for people who had suffered pregnancy loss. The people that I met were my lifeline for that first year....and beyond. But....it's l3 years later and I've lost touch with all of them. It's kind of odd that I've really only met, face to face, one other person who suffered a stillbirth, like mine. When I met her, her loss was already about seven years before mine.....and she was SO helpful.....but in a different place than I was back then.
My daughter's death strenthened some of my relationships.....and showed me weaknesses in others. You would have thought it would have taught me such compassion....and it did in certain situations. But you know what? I'm the biggest wimp when it comes to offering condolences. I get all tongue tied and panic that I'm going to be the one who says the wrong thing.
You know how you can remember, like yesterday, the terrible things that were said to you when your child died? Want a list? I'll just give a few highlights:
- "My mother and I were thinking that maybe your daughter was suffocating all along.....so it's better that she died before she was born."
- "It wasn't REALLY a human because she never took a breath outside of your womb."
I could rant and rave all over the place....but I'll save some stuff for next time.
Mostly I wonder about Heaven. Is she there? You know the Pope just took back the Catholic church's doctine about babies going to limbo. I never believed that. But after my daughter died, my parish priest (at the time) refused to come to where I was because I was twenty minutes away. Looking back, I guess my daughter wasn't worth the time for him. You know that all they could do was bless her because baptism is a sacrament for the living. Looking back, I wish I had baptized her myself. It might not have counted but I would have felt better.
I wonder if she's with the rest of my family who has passed on. That comforts me when i think she is. But when I think of her in the cold ground......it can haunt me.
I don't go to the cemetary often. A therapist "friend" told me that i wasn't coping well if I still fell apart at the cemetary and avoided going. I told this "friend" to talk to me after her child died and then I'd listen to her critique of my life. I avoid the cemetary because I feel like it's just her bones there. Her soul is in Heavan. And honestly, it does make me fall apart to be there. I went on her birthday. I didn't last more than two minutes. Bad mother? I don't think so. I don't need to be at the cemetary to talk to her and think about her.
Want to know another secret? My MIL drove me nuts over my pregnancy with her. She because totally obsessed with the pregnancy/baby. I'm talking stalker like not grandparent like. After she died, my MIL generously offered to buy the burial plot. She bought enough room for herself and my FIL and my baby. I was so young and naive. I never thought about wanting to be buried with my daughter. So now, even in death, she ends up with my daughter. As you can tell, we have a "strained" relationship.
Emm
I was searching for a place to put my feelings specifically about my daughter. I found the pregnancy loss blog link....and felt like "Finally there's a place where I belong." Maybe no one will judge me there when I confess that I think about my daughter every single day. It's not the hysterical crying that took place 13 years ago....it's not the grieving fog that I lived in for a few years......it's just me....the different me that emerged 13 years ago. You know how you are never the same after this. You are completely different....at least I am. Heck, maybe it's just me that's different. I don't know.
I never went to a support group. I never went into therapy. I did join a group online for people who had suffered pregnancy loss. The people that I met were my lifeline for that first year....and beyond. But....it's l3 years later and I've lost touch with all of them. It's kind of odd that I've really only met, face to face, one other person who suffered a stillbirth, like mine. When I met her, her loss was already about seven years before mine.....and she was SO helpful.....but in a different place than I was back then.
My daughter's death strenthened some of my relationships.....and showed me weaknesses in others. You would have thought it would have taught me such compassion....and it did in certain situations. But you know what? I'm the biggest wimp when it comes to offering condolences. I get all tongue tied and panic that I'm going to be the one who says the wrong thing.
You know how you can remember, like yesterday, the terrible things that were said to you when your child died? Want a list? I'll just give a few highlights:
- "My mother and I were thinking that maybe your daughter was suffocating all along.....so it's better that she died before she was born."
- "It wasn't REALLY a human because she never took a breath outside of your womb."
I could rant and rave all over the place....but I'll save some stuff for next time.
Mostly I wonder about Heaven. Is she there? You know the Pope just took back the Catholic church's doctine about babies going to limbo. I never believed that. But after my daughter died, my parish priest (at the time) refused to come to where I was because I was twenty minutes away. Looking back, I guess my daughter wasn't worth the time for him. You know that all they could do was bless her because baptism is a sacrament for the living. Looking back, I wish I had baptized her myself. It might not have counted but I would have felt better.
I wonder if she's with the rest of my family who has passed on. That comforts me when i think she is. But when I think of her in the cold ground......it can haunt me.
I don't go to the cemetary often. A therapist "friend" told me that i wasn't coping well if I still fell apart at the cemetary and avoided going. I told this "friend" to talk to me after her child died and then I'd listen to her critique of my life. I avoid the cemetary because I feel like it's just her bones there. Her soul is in Heavan. And honestly, it does make me fall apart to be there. I went on her birthday. I didn't last more than two minutes. Bad mother? I don't think so. I don't need to be at the cemetary to talk to her and think about her.
Want to know another secret? My MIL drove me nuts over my pregnancy with her. She because totally obsessed with the pregnancy/baby. I'm talking stalker like not grandparent like. After she died, my MIL generously offered to buy the burial plot. She bought enough room for herself and my FIL and my baby. I was so young and naive. I never thought about wanting to be buried with my daughter. So now, even in death, she ends up with my daughter. As you can tell, we have a "strained" relationship.
Emm
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