Friday 31 January 2014

Because my comment was too long to publish

I was just reading Brooke's Blog and she posted this.  And my comment was too long to publish. 

It was big.  It was heavy.  And its time I let the hurt out.

so...

Dear Brooke,

I'm so glad you wrote this.  I've had a feeling.. a heavy shaken feeling ever since talking with Laura the day before yesterday.

And here it is.  I talked with her about what happened to me that day on Feb 27th... in the wee hours of the morning how we went to the hospital at 1am because I didn't feel the baby move... and then they told me that there was no heartbeat.  The ultrasound came in, and I saw his still silhouette.  I said the words ".. and that's when I started screaming and howling, 'what happened??' and Daniel dove on to my chest and told me it was going to be ok".

I remembered again how it felt in that exact moment to be alive and know that my baby just died.  I told her about walking down the hallway to the private room and feeling like I was going to burn the hospital down.  I told her how it felt to see Daniel not know he was REALLY dead until they closed the door to that private room to "give us some time". 

I haven't vividly remembered those feelings in a while.  I'm so thankful to have had that visit with Laura, and to finally talk to another mother who understands my pain... and to share in the common reality that our first born children are dead.  But I didn't know that reliving those moments would leave me a little shell shocked and shaken thereafter. 

And I worry that I felt the impression that I am an angry BLM.  Cold and callus.  As the decision to see and hold my dead baby was too much for me.  I didn't know what in the world these people were asking me to do.  I thought everyone around me had lost their mind asking me if I wanted to spend time with him - after we was already dead.  I was already so beside myself.  The nurses tried to facilitate a manageable space for me to come to after my baby was dead... but there was no reaching me.  All that you said about leading up to that moment, for 9 months, appointment after appointment... scan after scan... due date passed and more appointments thereafter... and all of a sudden, OUT OF NO WHERE, he's dead.  I didn't ever know that that could be a reality of what having a baby was like.  So, I didn't really feel like that's ACTUALLY what was happening.  I felt it was just a torturous ordeal.  I didn't know someone could get so fucked over.  But I was.  And all that pregnancy stuff, well, I felt it was all for nothing.  And I too felt so unbelievably duped and embarrassed.  Hugely pregnant... hours ago filled with life and plans... and now, well now he's dead and you have to go through the cruelest task possible and labor and deliver him... dead.  He's dead.  Remember that.  But do it all anyway.  Can you do that for us?  We need you to push, bear down, ok, breathe... that's it.  You're doing great... but he's dead.  But just stay with us now, you're doing so great...

I felt like I was in hell for that day.  And I wanted to get out of there so fast.  I wanted nothing out of this anymore.  I didn't feel ANYTHING beautiful was going on.  And it was only until I got home, and felt the physical pain of him not being with me did I realize what a beautiful thing it was to have him.  Ever.  In any form.  He is nothing but beautiful.  And with him being dead, travelling down the birth canal, and out into this cold world... I didn't see that at the time.  And I couldn't spend that time with him and hold him as I wish I had.  I watched the nurse carry him away, seconds after he left my body, and that was it.  And it's the biggest regret I'll ever have. 

I told Laura that I would do it all again, have him die, and deliver him all over again just to hold him.  Just to touch his skin, and kiss his lips. 

I'm crying now.  I'm thankful Theo is stretching his morning nap and letting me bawl my eyes out... because I needed this.  I'm crying now and reliving the shell shock of it all.

What happened to me that day was traumatic.  I didn't rise to the occasion to have my dead baby the right way.  I beat myself up all the time.  I shake my head at my performance at being a mother.  I forget about the 9 months of tender love and closeness I felt with this babe growing.  He was so adorable even though I'd never laid eyes on him.  And the trauma of that day, and that event stole that reality from me.  I long for him still.  I miss him unbearably.  My arms still ache for him.  Even with Theo here, my arms ache for the child I never held. 

And I am again beside myself in disbelief.

22 comments:

  1. Oh love. Beautiful and hell can intersect. But you can't know that at the time.

    Please, please don't beat yourself up. Don't forget all the love and the closeness. You have been in my thoughts so much in recent days, hope that you and Theo are doing well. Always remembering your precious Alexander xoxo

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    1. Catherine, you said it. Beautiful and Hell can intersect... but you cannot know it at the time. And I for one certainly did NOT.

      It has been a healing experience to let out his hurt. All this regret and pain. Thank you for your ENDLESS support. You really are dear to me.

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  2. Oh my. I wish I had words to reassure you, I wish I could tell you how you look from my eyes, the complete opposite of the picture in your brain. You are a wonderful mama. To both your babies. I send you love.

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    1. Thank you Amelia. I have been so afraid of how I will be portrayed if I spoke so openly about not holding him. Thank you for your reassurance. you are a kind and beautiful soul.

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  3. You absolutely loved that little boy, and he absolutely knew it.
    I hope I was of some use, to chat to, to understand what you've been through in some way. But mostly I hope I hit it home that your Alexander knew he was loved, whether you held him or not.

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    1. Oh, of some use is beyond an understatement.

      Really, it was such a good thing to talk with you. My only wish was that we had more time... all day maybe? But life does not revolve around grief and conversations with new blm friends that act as therapy.

      Brooke said it so well in the sense that talking about it, diving in... it brings back the trauma. And I had myself over thinking everything I said to you - thinking I might have left you feeling the same way I was. But it was my reality that brought me back to that day, and talking about it with you is not something I regret or wish I had done differently.

      If fact, talking about my story to another blm (you) made the trauma feel that much more intense because I know you KNOW what I'm talking about. I know you KNOW what feeling gutted by the death of your first born perfect son feels like. I wondered why I hadn't felt this way when I told my other (non loss) friends. And it's that they cant relate to the trauma. Even though it left me feeling shaken, it still felt good. Like the right thing to do. Good to let the hurt out. To share. Because you know it. Maybe not in the same way as I do in the sense that I had to labour him out knowing his was gone - and I do not know what it is like to face the reality that my living son will die soon and I have to say goodbye. But the trauma of our lives is unlike something I can connect with with non loss parents.

      There is healing in other people's understanding.

      I wrote that comment on Brooke's blog and tried to publish - but apparently you have to be under 4,096 characters to publish something as a comment!

      I was considering emailing her personally the comment - but I felt the need to do it publicly. Letting it bleed. you know? for everyone. And in writing that the other day, I've learned of several other blms that didn't hold or spend time with their babies after they were stillborn. And maybe there is relief in numbers, because the fact that I'm not the ONLY blm that couldn't see or feel past the trauma of the day to know what future regrets might feel like gave me some relief.

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  4. There is no right way to have a dead baby because there is nothing right about it. It is so so wrong. Alexander spent nine months being held and loved by his mama. This will never be enough. But without a doubt, he knew how very much he was loved.

    I hate that our babies died. But I would go back and do it all again because they lived. Because of the joy that we all felt. But mostly because of the love. xoxo

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    1. I really felt I did everything wrong. I couldn't believe that I could be so stubborn and blind - but trauma took over.

      Thank you for the support. I cannot believe I would do it again, but I would. I really would if only to have him alive again, ever.

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  5. I'm crying so much for you. Because what Catherine said is so very true. There's no possible way to know when beautiful and hell intersect. It was just pure hell. But all Alexander will ever know is the beautiful side of it. The love and the warmth that you gave him, that's all he will ever know. Which is of course heartbreaking, he deserved to know so much more. But because of you, what he felt was nothing but love.

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    1. It is reassuring to know that in all the support I've received that it is wholeheartedly believed that all Alexander felt was the good. The beautiful. The love.

      And it's true. I just so wish I could have given that to him for decades and lifetimes more. He deserved so much more. All our babies do.

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  6. I never held my son either. I just couldn't do it. It seemed wrong somehow. It never even occurred to me that other people would want to until I started reading blogs of my fellow BLM's. I too felt guilty about it, but we do the best we can in a terrible situation. I don't think we can expect anything more of ourselves.

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    1. I too didn't know it was such a "normal" thing to do after a stillbirth until I started reading blogs as well.

      The nurses kept "offering" the opportunity... before the birth and after, but I seriously thought they were crazy. I thought I knew how I would feel days later.. months later.. hours later. But I had no idea.

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  7. I never held my son either, or even looked at him. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't believe that I could survive having him die inside of me and then having to give birth to him and I thought that seeing him and holding him really would have killed me. Also, delivering him took 3 days and I was terrified of what he would have looked like after all of that time. My feelings change all of the time regarding this. Sometimes it is one of my biggest regrets. I know that I will meet my son one day, and he will be healthy and whole. I so look forward to that. I envy parents who did hold their babies, but I just felt like he was so gone that it wasn't even him anymore. Mostly, I have to just be gentle with myself and remind myself that surviving the horror of those days is enough.

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    1. I was scared to see my son too. I really thought that having him dead in my arms would have made a switch go off inside me, and that I might lose it. I couldn't imagine seeing a child of mine lifeless. I went home thinking about not seeing him, or holding him close, and I felt like I would have willed him eyes to open so badly that I might have really lost a part of my logical brain.

      I was already in awe that me loving him wasn't enough to keep him alive. It was just such a horrible time.

      And yes, surviving it at all is enough. There is no doubt that you loved him more than anything. But surviving this reality is sometimes the only thing to ask of ourselves.

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  8. Oh, Veronica. I just want to see you and hug you and cry with you. We are all so angry and we all feel so guilty and filled with regret. I do think some people were able to understand what was happening and cope with it faster than I was able to, and I envy them their foresight in doing things that I would later wish I had done.

    But you, like me, no matter how guilty and sad we feel, must believe that we did everything that mattered for our babies when it counted. What happened after Alexander died, there were things you could have done that might ease your ache now, that might help YOU. But the baby you'd fallen in love with--he was already gone. There was nothing more you could have done for HIM. He was gone, but in his short, perfect life, he already had everything you could give him--all the love, all the care, all the warmth and the safety. He knew your voice and your laugh and the rhythm of your walk. You were his mama as long as he was here and there's no way you could have done that with more love or joy or care. It's obvious from the way you write about him how much he is loved, how much he is wanted, how much he is missed. I don't know how things really work in life or death or what comes after, but I know that Alexander felt that love while he was with you, and what happened after--those are memories we cling to for comfort (or torture) but they are ours alone. They don't burden our babies. I believe that with every ounce of me.

    Crying with you, and sending enormous amounts of love your way.

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    1. "But you, like me, no matter how guilty and sad we feel, must believe that we did everything that mattered for our babies when it counted. What happened after Alexander died, there were things you could have done that might ease your ache now, that might help YOU"

      SO TRUE.

      I really felt so guilty (still do some days) in the months after Alexander died... reading about how other mothers held their babies... dressed them.. stayed with them overnight. I felt he KNEW what I had done. I felt he felt how cold it was in that room next door they held him in... alone. I was stuck in such a warped mindset that my dead baby could somehow feel hurt or abandoned after he was already gone. I was so hard on myself in my behavior towards him after he was already gone. But you are so right. So so right in that anything and everything I would have done would have been for myself. Yes, maybe I would have less regrets now... but I'd have them all the same. There is no perfect once your baby is dead.

      Again, Thank you for your post. It's really helped me understand the traumatic aspect of Alexander's birth... and how it's impacted my overall healing.

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  9. First, I need to apologize. I seriously love you guys-- you, Alexander, Daniel & Theo. And for some reason I don't get your blog in my feed, so I assume you don't write anymore and of course I missed this post when I felt I needed to be there for you to support you when it's the most traumatizing thing to relive in your mind.

    I don't recall the nurses taking Andrew away. They took him away immediately and brought him back after I said I didn't want to see/hold him either. They sort of insisted I did. And insisted on photos. I'm thankful they did, but I know being in those shoes so vividly. You're sort of out-of-body at the time making the choice that seems like it's impossible and living in a state of complete confusion that what has just happened to you, after all those hospital appointments and everything checking out perfectly... to be gone. I'm so terribly sorry you did not get to hold him. I'm even more sorry that you have to live with the regrets you never expected could occur in the first place when you were happily rubbing your overdue belly to welcome your firstborn beauty into the world. I wish so much for you, but of course I wish peace the most. I absolutely hate that you have to relive this reality (as we all do) and have these huge regrets. You love Alexander. That is known to be true. We all know that. Your love is palpable in every word you write and in how you love on his younger brother. I see that as a fellow friend and babyloss mama. I do. You are among a group that understands your regrets, no matter how great. It's the biggest failure of all of our lives to have lost our babies. It's more than just unfortunate.

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    1. It was all very out of body. VERY.

      And now after the fact, in retelling my story to those who (I now know) will understand, I was always afraid I would come off as if I didn't CARE enough to hold him, or see him or spend time with him. Because I SO WISH I had. It is hard to talk about that day because I was filled with so much anger... but at the same time, I was filled with so much HURT. I felt so let down. I felt my doctor LET him die. And I felt his death was so preventable with how overdue I was. I didn't feel anyone saw the travesty in this. And in that hurt, and in that huge vulnerable state... I wanted to quit. I didn't want to play this all out like it was OK for him to die, and sure, lets hold him and have everyone look and aww at him as if it's OK that's he's dead. I felt like I wanted to run away - but couldn't because I was still so damn pregnant. And as soon as it was all over... I just needed to go. To NOT DEAL with it anymore.

      No need to apologize. Really. Blogs get weird and url's get a shifty - but I know you care, and I've felt your support so much over the past few years... I love you guys too

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  10. Oh, Veronica. Sending you a huge, huge, huge hug. I think what Brooke said is so smart...that the stuff we do after they die is for us - still so very important to how we feel and process afterward - but as a mother: you did everything right. You loved him like crazy. That is the most important thing there is, that love. You know what? You do come across as mad. We all do. How else could we be? But cold and callous? Never. You have a fierce, big, loving mama's heart. Alexander was lucky you were his.

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    1. I often feel my actions and my inability to properly assess the situation discredits the love. But I'm learning to be easier on myself. I mean, hello? I had a dead baby. How could ANYONE have an expectation of what is "right" in how to act thereafter..? But I honestly thought there was a right way to be a mother to your dead baby in the hospital, and that I failed every criteria.

      Thank you for your continued kindness and support. It really makes a difference

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  11. I didn't hold Liam either. The nurses set up a bed in the corner of my room where Liam lived his last hour and a half. J held him, my dad kissed him from his head to his tiny toes, and all the while all I could do was cry hysterically. I went crazy. I told the nurses that he would live. I was in hell that day too. A part of my placenta tore and stayed inside so they wheeled me into the OR about 45 minutes after Liam was born. When I came back to my room still half asleep from the anaesthesia Liam was gone. His bed was empty. It felt like a nightmare. Each nurse on duty, until I left the next day, asked if I wanted to see Liam and I just shut down. I wanted to get out of there but my legs couldn't work on their own. I was ashamed of myself. I tried really hard to keep him inside me and I couldn't do it. For all those days in the hospital I never once imagined he would die. Everyone kept telling me I was in the right place and everything would be okay and I believed them. I'm crying right now and I know i'm still dealing with so much guilt and shame and anxiety. If I could go back to that day I would hold Liam and sing to him and let him die in my arms. Thank you for writing and sharing and allowing me to let it "bleed" in this safe place. I wish we didn't have such regrets but most of all, I just wish we all had all our babies. I'm thinking about you so much this month.

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    1. Oh Tash, that sounds absolutely awful. Traumatizing and absolutely scarring.

      Daniel was absolutely certain that because we were in a hospital that we would all end up ok. My father died almost 2 years prior - a short lived battle with cancer - so a bit of my innocence was gone in the sense that things will always come out with everyone alive... but I not for one second thought my baby could EVER die. It really does leave you in a state in which is impossible to understand unless you've been in it before. It is the cruelest and most shocking endeavor to face, and you get robbed of ANY clarity when you're actually going through the motions of dealing and coping.

      There really is something to be said about letting this issue bleed for me. I've been so anxious to let out the cold truth that I didn't hold Alexander. But with this community around me for support, it has really helped me be a lot easier on myself. I hope you are feeling the same as you've let out a lot in your comment.

      Sending so much love to you xo

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