After A was stillborn, we were fortunate enough to
receive outreach from several local support groups and babylost organizations.
Through one such organization I befriended a woman whose firstborn child was
born still thirteen years ago at 38 weeks from a supposed cord accident, though
cause of death was never conclusively decided. She got pregnant soon after her
son’s birth and just four days after the first anniversary of his death she
gave birth to a living son. She went on to have one more subsequent living son
a couple years later.
We really seem to get each other and I have leaned on her a
few times so far during this subsequent pregnancy. Her insight is that her
son’s birthday is bittersweet. Each year she is sad that her eldest is not here
but then a few days later she celebrates her “miracle” baby who wouldn’t exist
if his older brother had not died.
I’m not quite to bittersweet yet, although I do feel
grateful for Dragon and this new pregnancy even in the midst of my
continued angst of missing A. But for me they are two distinct emotional
experiences – I feel angry, sorrowful and severe pain because I yearn for my
son, and I feel distinctly excited and thankful for this new life kicking me in
the ribs. Perhaps with time, like my friend, I too will know how to hold two
contrary truths together in my heart simultaneously, to find holidays and
special occasions bittersweet.
She tells me that life is wonderful since her second son
arrived and that she thinks it will be wonderful for me too one day.
I find life bitter. I find life sweet. They both live together in my heart. Sometimes it's more one than the other for sure. Having Kai gives some of the sweet when my whole life was in such dire ruin. I think 13 years is a lot more perspective than either of us have. I am pretty sure you will find life more this way once the anxiety and fear of this pregnancy dissipate after dragon is born. Right now it is just too hard. I know, I was just there. What you are doing takes bravery and strength and courage.
ReplyDeleteThanks Renel. That's very validating for me. I'm at 32-weeks and fearful is the best I can describe it right now. Just filled with fear.
DeleteLike Renel I was also just there in an incredibly stressful pregnancy and wow is life better now! Someone asked me if having Bode here felt bittersweet and I said no. I do feel bitter andso sad that Bear isn't here and that hasn't changed much since Bode was born-it is still really hard. But Bode's life and really everything about him is pure sweet. But I guess those feelings manage to coexist as best they can and holidays do still seem to bring out the conflict. Hang in there!
ReplyDeleteThat's encouraging Julie. When I start to drown in the anxiety and fear I will try to refocus myself on the end prize; the light at the end of the tunnel.
DeleteThinking of you, and hoping that our babies will arrive safely, and that life will be better with them in it. x
ReplyDeleteRight back atchya Tash. :)
Delete<3 what a gift to have a friend who has walked so closely the path you're walking. Who can give you knowing nods of encouragement and support. Who probably gets it.
ReplyDeleteI hope that all of this becomes easier in time, anyhow.
She is a gift. Actually it is a gift from her and her firstborn son. I am grateful to them both.
DeleteLike Renel, I have bitter and I have sweet in my life. But I haven't yet felt bittersweetness for A and her little life; still mostly just bitter. And angry. And sad. But, oh, I am hoping for some wonderful for you, for all of us.
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ReplyDeleteI find life is so over complicated now and my feelings, likely to change from moment to moment. But I'll try to pinpoint some changes I experienced after Hugo was born alive...
ReplyDeleteRelief and gratitude were without a doubt the overriding emotions. But I'm sorry to say that for me, the fear, has never gone away. It has lessened to a degree, but it is still there. I frequently check on him. I am beyond careful when it comes to food he eats, sterilising, toys he plays with, the merest hint of a cold. I fear losing him every day.
But I must also add that alongside that relief, gratitude and fear is definite joy. And in fact it took me a while to adjust to that as it felt so unfamiliar having been stuck in grief for so long.
I also experienced an added layer to my grief - I found myself grieving for Hugo's loss. He should have an older brother. Someone to kick a ball about with in the back garden, to show him the ropes at big school, to tell him the real stuff about girls, to smuggle him into the house when he's sneaked a few beers behind our backs.
I don;t think any of it fits neatly into any particular description just yet - I feel like I'm still just fire fighting a bit - dealing with what comes up as and when it does, and certainly not at a point where I can look back and make sense of it all.