Thursday, January 31, 2013

Moving On...


I just want to be ok. I want to be happy. Is this possible? Should I just accept that I will always have a hole in my heart? I’ve been thinking a lot about “moving on” lately. When I lost you Gabe, a big part of me wanted to go with you. There is a song by P!NK called "Beam Me Up". This song conveys exactly how I feel lately. I just want to hold you even if just for a moment. Everyone around me seems to have moved past the tragedy that I’ll call your death. Everyone around me wants me to stop “dwelling” on it also. A mother is so connected to her child that she even feels it after death of one. I constantly tell myself that I will be ok, even though I won’t. I tell myself that I need to be stronger and realize that the time I did have with you was a gift. Which I do, I just am greedy and want/ need more time. None of the positive thinking seems to help me. It almost makes things worse, like I’m trying to correct a feeling. Everyone says that I am negative and it is going to send me into depression. I honestly don’t think I am being negative. I am not thinking of the ‘why me’ or the ‘I should have’ thoughts. I really am just sad without you. I hate that you aren’t here. I will never forget about you and there will never be a day that goes by that I don’t long for you or think about how you would be if you were here with us. I always think about what you would be doing at this age. One year and 3 months, you would be making us laugh with your new words, walking around all cute, eating all kinds of new foods, trying to keep up with your brother on his “motorcycle”. That’s my dream. My wish. I miss you Gabe. I love you. I read a story in the news about a famine going on in another part of the world. A woman was walking with her children across a long distance to try to find food, water, and opportunity. One of her children was sick and she didn’t have any way to care for him or enough food to feed them all. She had to leave behind this sick child so that she could take care of the rest of them. She said she stayed with him for a whole day and held him and told him how much she loves him and that he needs to be brave and strong. Maybe someone will come to help and he can find her one day. The person who wrote the article stated that the mother was crying while telling them of the story and asking them to look that way for her child if they had the means. The story touched me and I feel so awful for her. This doesn’t exactly relate to me, but I do share an emotion with it. I feel like I left something back in that hospital. I can’t stop thinking about the last time I held you and dressed you. I can’t get the funeral out of my head. I cannot get the idea of the cremation out of my head. I hate that you had to go through that, I wish it was me instead of you. Parents are not supposed to “move on” without their kids. It is not right; there are no words for a parent who has lost a child. It is simply painful.

We do want more kids. Not because we lost you Gabe, but because we had you. I was so nervous to have more than one kid when I was pregnant with you. But you reminded me that life is precious and that amazing feeling when bringing a life into the world. Jax would love brothers or sisters. I could do it, I am sure now. It’s just not as easy as saying oh I want to have a baby now. I hate that question “so are you guys going to try to have any more kids? I'm sure it won't happen again.” Trying to get pregnant is so stressful. After realizing that stress makes things 100% harder, we decided to not try anymore. If it happens, it happens. But every month if I’m late I seem to get the same anxiety about it even though I tell myself not to worry about it. I told someone I just want to be ok and that I want to not want more children. I want to be able to accept it if I am not able to have any more. This person and a few others have told me that this is negative thinking. I am trying to get my disappointment out of the way before it happens. That the odds are good since I had two children by the time I was 25. I partially agree with that. But I also think it is my only road to happiness. It is me deciding to focus myself completely on what is in front of me and things I have control over such as Jax and a career! I am trying to be happy with what I have instead of wanting something I don’t know that I can have or may take any number of years to get to. And if you want to talk about odds, let’s talk about the odds of Gabriel having Trisomy 13. I am 25 my husband is also young, we are pretty healthy, and my strong trisomy baby lived inside of me until 32 weeks of pregnancy. The odds for that are pretty slim, yet it happened. So odds… Fuck odds. Anything is possible. Is another baby possible? Of course but is there also a chance that it doesn’t happen? Yes. So bottom line, I need to get to a place where I am ok with just Jax being here with me. He is amazing and I should be so happy with him. I am I think I just want to give him the world. Wouldn’t he be great with a sibling? He would love it J 
SO moving on? It’s a bad phrase for a parent who has lost a child. I will never move on. He is always with me no matter what; he is always on my mind and in my heart. Keep living is a better phrase. People who think that I am dwelling on not having him here? You don’t understand, back off. I am ok, I am sad and part of me will always be sad. THAT’S OK. IT’S OK TO BE SAD. I’m sorry to say that this is a new me. I have been through a battle and I am different. The new me is no longer naïve or blindly happy. The new me can be happy sometimes but she also knows that she will always be a little sad and angry. I am going to keep living for you Gabriel. I hope to see you one day. There will be no greater joy than to have you in my arms again.
“Do not judge the bereaved mother.
She comes in many forms.
She is breathing, but she is dying.
She may look young, but inside she has become ancient.
She smiles, but her heart sobs.
She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS,
but she IS NOT, all at once.
She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.”

2 comments:

  1. Whew! I remember these days well, these thoughts. This echoes so many of my past posts. Its been 4 years for us now (Jan 24th). I haven't "moved on". What does that even mean? Who really does that after loosing a child? It becomes a part of who you are. You move with it... you breathe, you live, you age, you morph, you learn to live beside it, around it, as a part of you and your reality...but I don't believe you ever move past it. Outsiders don't get it, they can't. It's too big, too scary. After a while you learn to roll your eyes and block out their blessed ignorance. You seethe with envy at the very notion that ANYONE could ever believe that it wouldn't happen again, because why the hell wouldn't it, but you smile and nod and change the subject because its not use arguing with their ignorance. And you realize how jealous you are of that ignorance. But you learn how to smile and nod all the same. The light at the end of the tunnel is coming. I promise you. In retrospect, I think that things got less intense for me around 14-16 months. You probably won't notice it while you're in it, but later on, when you look back. I promise, the light is coming. Keep breathing. As for TTC and pregnancy, well...they just complicate things all the more. And as much as an outsider would like to wax poetry about sunshine and rainbows and happy endings at you all day, no amount of good thoughts and positive thinking will produce a living baby. No pink line, heartbeat, growing belly, or ultrasound ever brings relief when the big "what if" sits confidently and with ease on a burgeoned belly whispering evil thoughts in your ear. And I assure you, if happy thoughts and positive thinking were a magic wand that somehow brought forth healthy, living babies...well then, I'd have 4 instead of my 1 and a half. Pregnancy (and I'll assume subsequent living babies) adds a new dimension to grief and the heart of a mother of dead children. And trying to explain that to an outsider is like trying to blast a whole in a brick wall with a water pistol. Smile and nod. I've learned to live two realities; the real one, the one I live with at home when I don't have to hide and excuse and explain and feel guilty, and the one that I give to the hopefulls. The one they NEED to believe. Babies don't die and every day is sunshine and rainbows. But we know better. (http://mystolenlight.blogspot.com)

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  2. @Heather I am sorry it took me so long to reply. You are a beautiful writer. You have such a way with words, I wish I could express my thoughts the way you do. Thank you for this comment, you really helped me to feel as though I am not SO alone. I have a couple questions I wanted to ask you, do you have an email or facebook?

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