So I've been feeling really crappy for the past couple of days. I didn't really verbalize that it was bad until about Saturday. I was sore, cranky, wanted to snap at everyone and just didn't feel well. I was also driven to tears at the smallest provocation.
Last night, I actually said out loud to myself, "I am one day shy of 19 weeks". Then it all made sense. I knew the time was coming up and I thought I would be okay. I am usually pretty aware of my "grieving times" and I thought I was aware enough this time.
Apparently not.
As soon as I made the reason "real" and allowed myself to "feel" this grief that lives in my body, I felt much better. I didn't feel so lost.
When my first child was one day shy of 19 weeks, he died. For months after, I had this physical pain, that I couldn't pinpoint or understand. It wasn't until years after that I was able to recognize it for aching arms. I know it is a normal reaction to losing a baby.
---Aside-I always refused to use the term "lose my baby" for the longest time as well. I didn't lose him. I knew exactly where he was. In a funeral plot. He wasn't where he should have been; in my arms. It was just a euphemism that made people feel better or like they could avoid what had actually happened. My baby died. He was dead. It wasn't my fault that he was "lost", although that also took some time to sink in. I've since adopted the euphemism in deference to other people, but I don't use it consistently. I often just say that I had a stillbirth, or my first baby died. It helps me to keep it from becoming an unimportant part of my life.
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I have lived with this hole and its companion grief for almost 11 years. It is not easy, or even do-able at times. At other times, I am able to remember the times of pregnancy with fondness. When special days roll around, we pull out Evan's "baby book" and show his pictures to the kids. We talk about him and how he looked, how we had anticipated him and how much he helped us to learn about the preciousness of time and children.
And on days like this, I have learned to be gentle with myself and my family. Mostly. I still want to yell and scream at the unfairness of the world. And that's okay.
I would never wish this trial on anyone else. I would never want to belong to this "club". And I have learned things that I could never approximate with any other experience. It has prepared me for experiences and other trials that I would have dealt with much differently and for that I am grateful.
