Grief is a funny thing. It’s something you don’t know how you’ll react to until you’re placed in that particular situation.
Obviously this grief is different than having grandparents pass but when this started, I thought that this may be like that since I had nothing to compare it to.
With the other losses in my life, I cried a for a few days and I was sad. They made me think about everything I wanted to do in my life. They made me think about my beliefs of the universe. Sure, I questioned why they had to die but after coming out of the haze of grief, I understood. They were older. They had health problems. It didn’t make it easier. I mean they were someone important in my life and I was sad that they were gone.
That isn’t how this is. This grief hits me in waves. When I was in the hospital, I received multiple comments on how well I was handling it. I don’t know if it’s just how I do. I was thinking about what was next. I cried off and on. But I dealt with it. Giving birth to a child I knew I was never going to take a breath was heartbreaking and terrible. It was difficult but I did it. In the hospital, everything came in waves.
And that’s how it’s been since. I can’t explain the feeling other than like that. I feel like I’m stand. I’m okay and coping well. And then out of nowhere I’m hit like a tsunami wave crashing down on me. I remember that my baby is dead. I won’t ever get to experience the first smile, the first time he grabs my hand, his first tooth or word. He’s gone and I have to remind myself of it sometimes. I have to remind myself that it’s weird now if I rub my stomach because there isn’t a baby there. I have to remind myself that those are muscle spasms and not kicks or punches.
This grief is so much different. It’s hard and it feels debilitating when it hits. It makes me angry because there will never ever be a good enough reason as to why my baby was taken from me. There will never be a rational reason as to why I am no longer pregnant. This grief makes me bitter that all these other mothers are getting their happy ending while my baby will be coming home to me in an urn.
And please don’t mistake that feeling as wishing something like this upon them because this loss, is fucking crippling. I would never wish this on the worst person who has ever walked this earth.
I just wish I was blissfully unaware of these feelings. I wish my baby was 23 weeks and I was celebrating his viability instead of checking UPS’s site 15 times a day to see if the tracking info for his urn has changed. I wish I wasn’t gathering his cloths that we bought to have a memory quilt made. I wish my baby was still alive.