Right Where I am 2013: One Year, 3 Months, 3 Weeks, Exactly

It's almost 4:51pm... I didn't even realize when I sat to write this post.  Alexander was born at 4:51pm, on a Monday.  Well, he was stillborn...

I'm taking part for a second year in a row in Angie's Right Where I Am project.  To see my last years entry, you can look at her blog here as she posted my entry.  I started this blog a short while after.  This project last year definitely kicked me into gear in getting serious about blogging.  I'd been commenting and stalking  reading about other baby loss mom's in the blog world, and knew I wanted to go that step further with connecting and start my own blog and share my story.

I have to get up, and walk to the other side of the room every few minutes to check if my living child is still alive, and breathing.  He is napping on his stomach so he could die instantly any second so I'd better be vigilant on checking on him.  And I might have to wrap this post up, all disjointed and incomplete. 

Right where I am is a bit of a shitty place.  I wish I could write about all the joy and utter amazement I constantly experience as I'm at the mercy of my living child.  But I cant.  Life does not feel that great at this time. 

Theodore what born on April 23, 2013.  He will be 8 weeks old tomorrow.  Most days, he has me at my wits end.  My grief roars and my heart breaks as I get frustrated with this tiny person.  I'm in constant wonder in what kind of person I would have been if my first son had lived, and he was the boy I was able to mother.  After mothering a dead child, mothering a living one has its dark days.  For me, anyway.  I have a lump in my throat nearly all the time - but certainly all the time when my sleep is lacking.  When Theo doesn't nap, I get weepy and frustrated.  My temper wears thin, and I find myself resenting my life.  Hating it at times.  Sorry.  I do.  I don't want this life.  I often times don't want things this way.  I don't want to feel this way. 

I still feel so terribly ripped off, and I am sickened with disgust when I find myself wanting to quit on this current life.  As Theo fusses and cries over my shoulder - as he's been fed, clean and dry - I cry too. 

What's wrong little baby?  Do you belong to someone else?  Do you want out of this scenario too?  I'm sorry.  I am a bad person.  I cannot help you. I am broken. 

And I know I don't have a thing figured out.  I know I don't know where to put all the sad, lonely feelings that came along with losing my first born.  I often think I'm in no shape to be looking after a little helpless baby, as I find myself resenting him at times.  Nothing is his fault.  I hurried his life into this world because I was so shattered by my loss, I didn't know what else to do.  And I still don't know what to do.

People tell me that things will get better. 

"At three months, you'll see a big change."

I'm starting to give up hope that I'll one day miraculously feel better with a simple flip of the calendar.  I was told that breastfeeding would all of a sudden find it's perfect rhythm at 3 weeks, 4 weeks... and I'm still feeling trapped and housebound because of Theo's snack-like tendencies.  I was told that at 6 weeks I'd see a big difference in how Theo sleeps at night.  5 and 6 hour stretches.  Bullshit.  He still randomly sleeps 4 hours straight ... but usually 2 1/2 - 3 hour stretches.  I'm up with him for ridiculous 2 hour feed at night... and I cant help but feel like I'm doing something wrong.

And everything is all sandwiched by my grief.  I can no longer tell if everything feels hard, or if it all feels hard because I feel so lonely.  I feel lonely because of my loss, and I feel lonely because I seem to want to be alone when dealing with all the difficulties in looking after an infant. 

I don't know how I would have been if Theodore was my first born, living child.  How would I have been with Alexander?  Theodore is his own little individual person, and I long to know who Alexander would have been.  I am constantly upset with myself that I cant be a better mother for Theo, and put the heaviness of my life behind me.  I feel like I sound so DRAMATIC, but dammit, everything feels hard. 

Things do feel better when Daniel gets home.  I finally feel like I can eat, or pee or sit at the computer in peace and not be interrupted or not have to do everything one handed.  I am all by myself every day with Theo, and we have one car, and Daniel takes it to work.  He used to take public transit, but the lack of sleep has got to him too... and tolerating jam packed subways and delays just isn't something to manage if you don't have to.  So I'm home with the babe.  And when emotions are running high, I feel very trapped.  And very alone. 

And I know this sounds like a post about having a new baby...but I feel it's almost entirely about my grief.  I had no idea how trying everything would feel, and I am forever bothered by the fact that I will never know how I would have tolerated this huge lifestyle change had I not endured such a huge loss.  I thought I was managing my grief, my missing, my longing a little better when I was pregnant with Theodore, but in the days and weeks when we brought him home, I realized those emotions were null and void, and a new sense of "what the fuck happened to my life and my son?" began. 

There is a flip side to all of this. 

I love my second son.  I love this baby boy who is here living with us.  A little bit of that joy I talked about earlier hits me from time to time, and I do catch myself in utter amazement when he asleep soundly on my chest that he is mine to keep. 

I hold him, and I cry because I am sure I am doing something wrong because of how awful I feel some days.  I don't ever want to see a scratch on his body, or a hair harmed on his head.  And I cannot believe the person I turn into when he is inconsolable and I find myself picking him up, frustrated, saying "ooookaaayy Theeooooo" and bounce around the room with agitation running through my blood.  He must know how ill equipped I am.  He must sense my inadequacies and cry harder due to his unstable care.  I don't like who I've become towards him in his seemingly dire times of need.  I fall apart easily, and my patience runs out quickly.  Who am I?  Where did I go in this mess of caring for a new baby?

But I love Theodore, and I so love his aroundness when he is in a good mood, and not rooting for my sore, empty breasts.  I am ripped apart by the idea of losing him.  My constant checking, and examining is all due to my fear of facing another loss.  I miss Alexander more than I can ever put into words, and my at-my-wits-end tears are always stemmed in my primal need for him to be here. 

***

This post seems harsh.  It is almost 10pm, and I wrote the majority of this while Theo was napping earlier today and had to save it as he work shortly after 5pm.  I read through it, and I sound like an awful person.  But I'm not going to hold back, or rewrite.  That is exactly where I was earlier today, and this project is supposed to be all about capturing your grief today.  Not yesterday's or tomorrow's feelings... but right now's. 

So that's it.  It's messy.  It's rushed.  But it's real.