I live in a world now where babies die. They die for no reason. One night, seven months and 5 days ago I kissed my son, told him I loved him, and put him to bed for the last time. The only difference was that he was coming down with a cold that his brother had had a few days before, so we gave him some Motrin. My world was whole. Everything was okay. It was always difficult with two small children, but I loved every minute of it and I cherished my time with my boys. The next morning 3 of us woke up, but Teddy never opened his eyes again.
As I sit here and write I am overcome with grief. I am sobbing with a pile of tissues next to me. Today is a bad day. Today is one of those days that I don't know how I'll make it through, other than to just keep breathing, which honestly I don't want to do. I have been watching Game of Thrones lately (it totally holds up) and as I watch cinematic depictions of people being burned alive, the thought that goes through my head is, "well that doesn't look so bad. It can't compare to the pain I feel every day."
I live in this world. The world that you live in. But it's not the same. When I see pregnancy announcements, birth announcements, the "our baby is -- months old," all I can think is that I hope your baby lives, but they could die. They could die in an instant. I try as much as I can to be "happy" for these new parents, but all I really feel is fear, guilt, anger, shame, and just a slight glimmer of hope. In my world babies die, but hopefully not in yours.
I am surrounded by pregnant women. The couple next door just gave birth last month to their 2nd son. And I hate seeing him. I am terrified for them, and so jealous. I will never get to have another baby. Why did this happen to me?
I'm a sober alcoholic. I rarely go to meetings anymore because I just don't feel the connection that I used to. Strange thing is that when I DO go to meetings, I feel that connection, but lots of times I want to be miserable and sad. I don't want to drink or use. If I do I will certainly die (which part of me thinks wouldn't be all that bad) but I just can't stand that thought of not seeing my Logan growing, or sharing life with my beautiful husband. But the other day a person reached out who needed help. I was honored to be contacted and it all just came rushing back. I love helping people get sober. But I found myself trying to say one of the many things we hear at meetings all the time, which is, "My life is beyond my wildest dreams." As the words started to come out of my mouth I realized just how far from my dreams I am now... How 5 years ago I never would have predicted my life would have been so wonderful and then turned so horrible.
I loved my life. I loved my family so much. I still love them, obviously, but it feels so empty and quiet. I miss the overwhelming chaos. I miss everything about Teddy. I miss everything about Logan and Teddy. It's not just that I miss it. It's that I mourn it every single day. I wish I could talk to Logan about his brother. About how wonderful he treated him, and how much Teddy adored him. I know I will be able to one day, but it's just a huge gaping hole in my soul.
I'm not crying anymore. This was a good cry, I haven't cried like this in a while. Sometimes I need to feel that gaping hole, be in it, embrace it as a part of me. It's sometimes how I can feel the closest to Teddy. God, how I miss him. A year ago I was learning how to walk on my new hip, with my little buddies always with me. Exploring our new neighborhood, looking at trees and leaves and flowers. Getting away from the sounds of the city and filling our ears with the sounds of the woods. Such a rare treat in the middle of NYC, but this is where we live. We are lucky to have found this place.
A friend of mine visited me yesterday to bring over some clothes for Logan. We had the most wonderful talk. We talked about grief, love, loss, parenthood. It was so fucking nice to be able to have a safe space to do that. She told me that she had seen a mutual friend over the weekend and mentioned she was going to see me and bring over "baby clothes." This mutual friend told her, "make sure not to say the word baby." This made my friend nervous and then question things she had told me previously, carefully re-running conversations and worrying she had upset me.
As the woman who lost her baby, I can say to you I WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY SON. I want you to say his name! How can anyone think it is okay to just pretend he didn't exist? He was my baby and I miss him! I want you to remember him. I don't care if it makes YOU uncomfortable. If you say something to me that is over the line, believe me, I will tell you. But don't presume to tell other people what I may or may not want to hear. Especially if I haven't talked to you in a long time. The moral of the story - don't deny my reality because it doesn't feel good for you. I fucking hate it, but here I am, still living. Still breathing. Still mourning.
This world sucks, but it exists. Please don't pretend that it doesn't.
As a treat for reading my rants, here is a photo of when Logan met Teddy for the very first time. He gave him a kiss on the lips. My heart still explodes with love with this memory.
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