Sunday, June 23, 2013
I can't hide from it. No matter how many people I hide and delete on Facebook, somewhere out there someone is giving birth and bringing their beautiful child home. And the picture shows up via someone else being tagged. That's great for them. They have their happy little family. Their baby didn't die. I should be happy for them. Grateful someone I know doesn't know my pain. But instead seeing their joy only breaks my heart more. Seeing a picture of my sister holding a new family member breaks it all over again. Because it should be Korbin, and because she's not smiling in the picture and I think it's my fault. People are so careful about baby stuff around me sometimes, knowing I'm sensitive to it all, and that even breaks my heart. Why should they hold back their joy just because I hurt so much? Why can't my sister have known Korbin and held him?
Sometimes it hurts so much I think I'll be sick. The pain is depressing. I mean, I shouldn't be hurting so much by now, right? It's been over a year. Korbin's dead. He's not magically returning. I get this. I know this. But I still sometimes go through the memories rapid fire and have that 'Oh. My. God. I was pregnant and I like actually had a real baby' gut wrenching emotion of just sudden devastation and loss at his absence in our lives. We keep going, and we don't get to take him along in life with us.
People say it's a choice to be happy and okay. Well, if that's true, it's most definitely not an easy one when every ounce of my being craves holding and loving my child. When every time a clip or picture or even someone walking by with an adorable boy instantly has me imagining what Korbin would look like and be doing now. How old he'd be, how much hair he would have, would he be trying to crawl or walk yet? I very much so wish I knew these things instead of just trying to imagine them.
I keep wondering when I'll find my strength in losing Korbin. Stephen Colbert did a lovely tribute to his mother who passed recently. In that tribute he told of his mother losing her husband and brother around the same time, and how she became the strong person, loving life and who she had left in it. I would love to say I feel so grateful that I still have Ryan, which I am. I don't know what I'd do without him. But I need Korbin too. And knowing I can't ever have what I need most now is keeping me broken; life is totally and completely incomplete. And I am so weak and fragile from feeling so broken. It sucks. I don't want to feel like crying from the moment I wake till the moment I finally pass out from emotional and mental exhaustion. But I do, because life is so cruel and unfair and I haven't seen the good in any of this.
People keep having babies, and having more babies. And I just want the one I had.
I got a lotta love to give.
Friday, June 21, 2013
So I've posted about nightmares of just devastating loss before. Everything gone, and how empty I feel because of that. But as of late my nightmares have taken a new twist. They have become particularly gory and horrific, as if the devastating loss itself isn't painful enough.
The latest one woke me up in sobbing tears last night and I couldn't sleep afterward. I was full with child after already having lost Korbin. Things seemed fine until the weight of this new child literally ripped the lower part of my stomach open, leaving me a bloody mess with another dead child. I can't get the image out of my head, and it was so awful. I could care less about any physical pain, even in the nightmare that was non-existent. The only pain was the growing hole this new loss left within me, and how broken my heart felt now. And I was saying, 'why can't I just keep them in like everyone else.' Sobbing and heart broken, while pregnant women I know were happily giving birth successfully to their children all around me. I was so jealous.
And I am jealous. This nightmare is loaded with things I'm dealing with emotionally. The c-section and loss of Korbin, fears of future c-sections (which I have to have) and possible future losses, and also the coworker who is due any day now and who I have been avoiding at work because it hurts so much to see how happy she is. And it hurts because I so want to know that happiness. It makes me feel so bitter too. And jealous. My mind always gets to the point of questioning, 'why does so-and-so get all of their children and we don't get Korbin?' The drug addicts down the street, the alcoholic, the teen who doesn't want their kid, or the people who leave babies in toilets or dumpsters. It's a really sick joke that God allows those babies to be treated so horribly but he takes the ones who are truly wanted and hoped and wished and prayed for. It just doesn't add up to me.
I'm definitely stuck in a dark place emotionally. And it's terribly exhausting. I'm back to just surviving each day as I don't have the energy for anything more. But I have to keep reminding myself that someday, for hopefully some future little ones, I got a lotta love to give.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
This has been an awful week, both emotionally and mentally. I've had constant nightmares about what I love just disappearing, even the garden was completely bare in one. Not a bud, flower or leaf was spared. Just dead sticks poking out from the ground here and there.
The lack of sleep I think is taking a bit of a toll on my work abilities. I haven't been making the best decisions about situations or even had much energy, if any at all, to greet and talk to patients. It's so exhausting. Top it off with training and figuring how to work with everyone's extremely different personalities, and I'm kind of at a breaking point at the moment.
And, because it couldn't get better (of course not), Seven killed first one of the neighbor's chicks, and then Big, one of ours. I was in denial about Big not surviving. I mean, she was chirping still, trying to stand, and we could open her mouth to give some salt water and water. Ry said that maybe she's just sick, and needs to rest up. But I think I knew it was more than that. Seven lunging at her so forcefully snapped her neck partially. She didn't have control of it, and was oddly stiff in the legs and her back arched. We kept her inside last night to monitor her, and that's when the worst of it started. At about 3am or so she started chirping hysterically, and then would calm for a bit, and then would start again. Around 5am I held her a bit, but then put her in her own box separate from the other two in the garage. I thought maybe she needed to hear them, they've grown up together after all.
The worst part came when I checked on her after work. Instead of sitting, she was completely on her side, beak open and eyes shut. And she had spit up and pooped after falling to her side. It broke my heart to see her lifeless like that, most likely in excruciating pain up until the last breath. I mean, I know she was just a chicken. I named them Big, Medium and Small so that I wouldn't get attached. But, it's just brought back so much of our experience with Korbin. We were helpless, and all we did was watch he slowly passed away. I hope he wasn't in pain, but who knows.
And even though I feel like I'd been locking away my pain and tears these last few weeks, right now I can't control the sobbing. The tears just keep falling. I must be traumatized still. And losing Big, the helplessness, and seeing and hearing her pain, has left me feeling so empty.
I know she was just a chicken, but it's all just brought back everything I felt in losing Korbin. Even though losing a chicken is nothing compared to losing a child, it's definitely been a painful reminder of losing him.
She was just a chicken, but I still got a lotta love to give.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
I am such a cold bitch now. It sucks, and I have to bite my tongue ALL the time. Maybe it will soften one day, like when we actually bring a child of our own home instead of just watching everyone around us bring theirs home without worry. But until then. I am such a bitch.
Last night, for just one of many many examples, we decided to venture out to a new car group meet up. A whole new group of fresh faces welcomed us. And then one of the couples announced they're 3mo pregnant and having a kid. Another couple brought their new puppy, and the preggo couple said, 'ya, so, you got a puppy, we got a kid, we win.' I almost said, 'you don't know that!' Yup, major tongue biting moment. They wanted to show everyone their ultrasound pictures and told us all how their kid has hair and fingernails now.
I closed in, and ignored them the rest of the night. And later I realized that I'm not angry about these people having a baby. But I am oh so jealous. They are excited and so naive to the horrible possibilities that some have to go through just to bring one child home.
Now I wonder if I should tell our story to everyone we meet. I didn't last night because all that would do is completely freak them out. I can't do that to them, when they are so happy. I remember that feeling. It was absolutely amazing. I seriously thought I was on top of the world and nothing could bring me down. Boy was I wrong. So jealous and cold-looking I stay.
The mom(-to-be? Do I consider her that or a mom like me?) commented that she hoped they hadn't scared us away. Great, my cold-shoulder was totally felt. Not what i had wanted. So I congratulated them on the way out. Because despite the jealousy and pain it evokes, I still got a lotta love to give.
P.S. In writing this I totally sang that song, 'I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother...' to myself in my head.... I guess I'm also a big dork.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Well, we've survived a whole entire year. It's weird and heart breaking and relieving all at the same time in that, yes, we can survive this, but oh my god it's been an entire year already without my precious Baby Love.
Thankfully June 1st came and went somewhat peacefully. I planned a perennial planting party for Korbin's first birthday, inviting many of the close family and friends who have been particularly strong, loving and supportive to Ryan and me. Each one brought a perennial to plant in our garden in Korbin's honor. These plants will bloom and grow year after year, and I can take care of them and think of Korbin while doing so. My cousin took loads of pictures, but these are just a few to share.
The support and love was amazing to feel and see. And I was told more than once that I am such a good mom to remember Korbin so. I don't think people realize what saying that out loud means to me. When I feel I'm being weird about my loss, like my pain and response to things is absurd, this simple sentence is such a relief to hear.
The day ended up absolutely beautiful, and I was even sweating out in the sun. I cried a little, and felt overwhelmed, but people jumped right in to help dig and place the plants in their new homes.
The result is just stunning in my eyes. And I still have planting to do! I just keep thinking about it, and it makes me smile, though the feeling is bittersweet.
Happy Birthday Baby Love, My Baby Love. I will always miss you. But because of you I know the depth of my love for my family and friends. Thank you.
I got a lotta love to give.