I am guilty.
I’m guilty of judging every woman who’s pregnant with ease. I’m guilty of holding my niece and wishing she was mine. I’m guilty of avoiding baby showers and birthday parties. I’m guilty of glaring at swollen bellies with hatred. I’m guilty of staring at babies around her age – I’m so presumptuous that their mothers could never love them like I love my baby, at how unfair it is that they lived, stuck with “her”.
I’d like to pretend I haven’t wished this path on anyone, because I really don’t deep down… but I have. I’m guilty of wishing the perfectly ignorant, stupid, happy girl posting weekly updates of her pregnancy would realize it could happen to her too. Stop making plans love, you might end up bitter and pissed off like me; death isn’t picky. They’ll come after you and yours too.
I’m guilty of the deepest kind of envy; sometimes it’s like I can’t breathe through the smog of injustice. What the hell did I do to earn this? Why is it people can’t see what it means to a parent to hold their child as they die? How can you not understand that my life has literally shifted into a dark and scary place – a place where babies die?
Why can’t I just accept it? Live alongside it with grace and peace like all the motivational quotes tell me too?
But I can’t. I can’t just draw her name on the beach and smile and be happy I had her. I’m too damn mad she didn’t get to stay, and it makes me hateful. It’s a toxic sludge that seeps into everything I love; pushes and shoves its way to my fingertips, always lingering at the end of my tongue.
At some point I had to make the active choice to let go of my triggers, which I know sounds like an oxymoron; triggers aren’t controllable. While many times it’s out of my hands what life rubs in my face, I can take some steps to protect my heart. Some things are simple to do, like avoiding things I know will sting. I haven’t been to a baby shower or baby’s birthday since my daughter’s funeral fell on what was supposed to be the day of her shower. I make no excuses for it, and I don’t feel I owe anyone an explanation as to why I couldn’t possibly sit through a celebration of everything that was taken from me. I won’t do it to myself.
To me, this is acceptable. It hurts no one and saves me stress as I try to heal. I don’t feel bad for this “crime”. Some people have accused me of hiding from babies, and that I can’t do it forever, but let’s not pretend my absence is really affecting you the way that enduring baby events will affect me. I’ve given myself permission to push aside what others may think and be selfish when I need to be. I take the day off from work for her birthday. I take a moment to cry on Mother’s Day. I do what I have to, to keep on going for the rest of the year, and the rest of my life.
Something that I find more difficult is that some days I hate pregnant women. I hate them with a passion that burns deep in my gut. I’m so angry that it’s them and not me I cannot hide the disgust from my face. I want to spit in their faces when they complain about their swollen feet, and sleepless nights. I have to stop myself from reminding them that I too miss sleep, but you don’t want to play this game of whose got it worse… I always win.
Over time I’ve basically learned to check myself before I wreck myself. It’s not that woman’s fault I’m not pregnant and she is. It’s not her fault I am unfairly refereeing her parenting and situation based on my completely unsubstantiated assumptions. It’s not her fault my baby died, but – more importantly – it’s not MY fault my baby died, either.
It’s not my fault my baby is dead when so many others are alive.
It’s not your fault your baby died.
It’s not your fault you are not pregnant again.
It is not your fault you’ve ended up a mother with empty arms.
All the hatred comes from guilt. The guilt that I did something wrong, that I didn’t fight hard enough, or make the right choices when she was born. My body couldn’t stay pregnant without threatening my life. I couldn’t enjoy my pregnancy after she was diagnosed. I didn’t hold her enough, or tell her I loved her just one more time. Guilty when I’m happy and for a fleeting moment I almost feel like the woman I once was before all this. Guilty that I’m not doing enough to validate her tiny little life. Guilty that I couldn’t protect her. That my first real taste of motherhood I failed, or at least felt like I did.
I’m guilty that I am a mother but my only child didn’t even get a chance to breathe.
But I remember, and remind myself again and again – I am not a failure, and this is not my fault. I’m the best mother I know how to be with the circumstances I’ve been handed. I made the most loving and compassionate choices that I could when given a prognosis of no hope. I’m doing the absolutely best I can to get through each day.
And you know what? That is enough. I have nothing to feel guilty about, and as I let some of the guilt go, my hostility to the luckier people around me softens. After all, for all I know the woman that I’m so intolerable of may have walked this path too. She too could have fear in her heart. Just because she’s pregnant or her child lived doesn’t mean she cannot empathize. We all face struggles and pain, there is no hierarchy in grief, and all hearts break just the same. Will she fully understand me? No, but I can’t fully understand her either. I don’t know the first thing about being a mother to a living child. What I can do is swallow my feelings and hope the respect is mutual.
I read once that no one can make you feel poorly unless you allow them to. I think this experience has taught me just that. Is it easy? Absolutely not! I still get mad, but it is worth it every day I wake up with more hope than resentment.
I choose to feel better. For me.
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I am so terribly sorry for your loss. My grandson was stillborn at 40 weeks, 4 days. He was perfect. The loss is heartbreaking and ongoing and I too feel anger and resentment as I see others with their happy families. I wish the best for you and applaud you for your fearlessness. It helps to see how others cope.
I just recently lost my baby girl Mya. And this has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure.
It’s only been two weeks, and I’m dreading going back to work. I started working at a daycare… So that by the time my baby arrived I’d be more prepared… Now I don’t know how I can go back. I love children and have taken care of so many. I see mother’s who I’m guilty of Deming unworthy yet they have their babies. I just can’t understand why this happened.
These first days of grief are such a terrible fog. There’s just no good reason why this happens, and it seems like the world just doesn’t understand how truly life changing losing your child is. I’m so very sorry we have this in common but I’m very glad you found us. (((Hugs)))
Thank you for this. Most days I think I’m fine. And I’m capable of being genuinely happy for my pregnant friends… or am I? Maybe I’m just burying the bad feelings and putting on a mask. Because then I have days like today, when I’m not at all ok and this is exactly what I need to hear. That I’m not alone and that someone “gets it”. So thank you. A million times over, thank you!
I too am constantly juggling conflicting emotions all the time, especially with other people’s pregnancies. For some reason it’s my ultimate trigger. Like you said most days it’s right there under the surface stopping me from being overly happy for anyone who gets their prize, a living child. I’m very glad this brought you validation momma.
“let’s not pretend my absence is really affecting you the way that enduring baby events will affect me.”
Yes! This!
Yes! This is the most frustrating thing for me when I’m confronted about avoiding such things. I have a hard time biting my tounge and telling them me avoiding this party is not a real problem. I can tell you some real tragedies if you need some perspective! So glad you connected with it.
Yes.
And I am an obstetrics professional. I deliver babies for a living. I do prenatal care. It’s been 15 years since my Mia died. Some days I still want to deny other women their babies. I want to take them home and give them a chance at a decent life. That’s the nice motive. The bitter motive is that it is SO WRONG that you and I could not raise our daughters when these people get children.
My heart is with you.
Oh my, you are one strong woman to handle these perfect babies and hand them over. I don’t know if I could! Especially when you know so much about the mother and the kind of life these kids will probably have. It’s so hard when you know you can give a baby so much more but our homes and our arms remain empty! That’ll never not break my heart! So happy you reached out to us, thank you!
Thank you for being so honest and admitting things that many of us are afraid to say out loud, or even to ourselves…myself included. I agree 100% that we need to protect and be kind to ourselves. Hoping we all can try to let go of the guilt and find hope somewhere along the way.
It’s a process of trial and error love, no one method of carrying this burden works for everyone. It’s just not all hope and tranquility like some might think looking in on the baby loss community. The only thing we can do is put our hearts first, honor our baby and remind ourselves that we are good mothers. Do whatever heals you momma, the rest just comes with time. (((Hugs))) thank you for your comment.