Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Worn out

Balancing the myriad of emotions that come with grief (anger, sadness, bitterness, fear, anxiety) with the stresses of everyday life is wearing me out. I soldier on. I go to work. I raise my son. I clean my house. I prepare meals. I train for a half-marathon. I make vacation plans and prepare for birthday parties. All the while managing the grief.

All the while concealing my pain. Waiting for someone I haven't spoken to in awhile to ask the opening question that never comes (So, what's new with you?) so I can share my latest happenings. Seeing a pregnant woman and wanting, waiting, to feel happy for her. Averting my eyes in the baby section of the department store. Recognizing that people want to, need to, find normalcy and happiness in their routines but wanting to shake them out of it with a cry of "Don't you understand what has happened to me?!" Knowing that sustaining a friendship means talking about the triviality of life and not just the life-changing stuff, but wanting acknowledgment of it anyway. Forgiving others for their discomfort and ultimate dismissal of my misfortune. Recognizing the look of pity and sorrow in others' eyes and feeling I need to comfort them rather than the other way around. Wanting desperately for others to realize the magnitude of what has shifted in my life - going from trying to have another child to resolutely accepting that it's just not going to happen. Wanting to talk about the book I'm writing about my journey through recurrent pregnancy loss and being aware the topic will stall any further conversation. Wanting to get on with my life for the sake of all those around me, but feeling it'll betray the memories of my babies. Wanting to tell my son about his phantom siblings but knowing it'll just confuse him and depress me. Wanting to feel some peace in my life and fearing it'll never come.

I'm tired of being on this train. Can I get on another one now?

8 comments:

mrs.spit said...

I'm sorry. I wish things were other than they are.

the misfit said...

Comforting other people when they should be comforting you - worst ever. Not exactly the same from the IF boat as the M/C one, but I think I've seen that, and it's no good. It's not fair to expect you NOT to bear witness to your children's lives, or to your loss of them. I know some gals have gotten pendants or rings with their babies' birthstones, or a symbolic necklace - what about something like that? (I know, you didn't ask for advice, and I'm sorry. I just want don't want you - or anyone - to have to pretend their beloved children don't exist.)

Will be praying for you.

Fumbling towards Motherhood said...

I wish is could send you a new train. I wish those who surround you could understand. I wish life could just wash away all of your pain and tears. If only life could be so simple. (((BIG HUG))).

I'm glad to see that you are writing a book Cynthia. You are an extremely talented and gifted writer. Your words leap off the page and touch our hearts. I think that it is a wonderful way for you to heal. I look forward to being one of the first people to buy your first books.

I understand your pain, and wish I could be there to comfort you. Please keep in touch, we are all here listening. Take care. xo

molly said...

I’ve never followed a blog before, posted on a website or even contributed to a thread, but I happened upon your July entry and I felt compelled to comment. You have taken the maddening thoughts and emotions swirling around in my head and expressed them in both an articulate and honest way. It was wonderful to see in print so many of the thoughts and feelings that I have been struggling to find the right words to convey. Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. I read every entry. I cried a ton, laughed a few times, and found great comfort in the realization that I am not alone.

I know you are grieving and I know too well that there are no words to console…so I will simply say “thank you.”

surpriseofunfolding said...

I'm so sorry ... I don't know what else to say.

butterflymom said...

Hang in there....and use your power of words to work through all of your emotions and grief. And remember, we are here to listen.

Rika said...

Cynthia,
I would love to read a book that you write. I know that I can't describe what this nightmare feels like, but you can and do it so eloquently. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I read a while ago through SHARE's site when you decided to name your babies, and I was wondering if you have a name for your last baby? I will continue thinking of you and your family.

Anonymous said...

It is impossible to even think that when you are living through the loss of a child that anybody can fathom the pain you are feeling inside. But as I read your words I wondered, "how could she know exactly how I am feeling at this moment in time?" Your words seem as if you are reading my mind.... In March my husband and I lost a baby, whom we lovingly named Jada Rose with the help of our healthy 6 year old and 4 year old. It was a shock to expereince such a loss. Losing Jada Rose placed a hole in my heart that I am not sure can ever be patched. 3 months later we became pregnant once again and although I was scared I was hopeful that everything would be alright this time. 8 weeks into my pregnancy we see twins on the sonogram and a very healthy heartbeat of one. The doctor believed the other baby was sitting behind the first one and there was nothing to be concerned about. We left the doctors office elated. Just hours later I began to miscarry my twins. The cramping and the blood.... there is nothing worse in this life than experiencing that! So I say all this to tell you that my heart is broken too.... I am on this journey with you... I feel your pain and from your own words I know that you feel mine as well. Thank you for sharing your heartache and letting other people like me know that I am not alone on this potholed yellow brick road!

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