Wednesday, September 14, 2011
He's been gone longer than he was here.
How the hell can it be that this little person who I think about the first thing when I wake up in the morning and the last thing before I lay my head down at night has been GONE longer than he was HERE? For weeks, it's been this way. But I haven't written about it. I still don't think I should, but here I am. I don't have much to say about it, but I can't post about anything else without at least documenting this simple fact. This very simple fact that my adult brain is struggling with so. I can't believe he's been gone that long. In the early weeks, the thought comforted me, that soon we would hit this milestone and something would lift somehow. Now that it's here, it's not comforting, it's excruciating. I don't want to be this far away from him. I want my son. I want him back. How could someone who is such a big part of who I am be gone longer than he was ever here? I'm beyond sad. I know I'm not saying anything new, but the 9 month mark has really taken its toll. I've reached new lows. It's like I feel the anger, but it's buried so deep it won't surface, it can't surface, so it just builds quietly behind my smiles. I'm a robot going through the motions with a subtle hope lingering that one day I will be glad that I kept going through the motions when all I want to do is literally give up. On everything. Nothing makes sense anymore, and I question every single decision I've ever made - not just during my pregnancy but my entire life. So that is where my mind is at - wondering who the hell I am, how I got here, and whether or not this is where I should be. Maybe I was meant to be living an entirely different life. Right now, I'd take it. In a heartbeat. I can't stand myself or this reality. And if there is no "plan", and thus no way I could be "meant" to be living a different life, well I want one anyway, because this is just too freaking painful and I am a shell of a person. And I am having trouble, what with how chaotic and scary and random life seems to be, with seeing anything that's not directly in front of my face, with seeing anything in terms of long term. What's the point in believing in anything? What's the point in having any goals? If we have no control anyway why even bother? If we could get hit by a bus tomorrow why the hell watch what we eat today? What's the point in ever doing anything good or moral or ethical? People drink and do drugs and pop out healthy full term babies so they can go on to beat them or neglect them, while countless others endure multiple losses of perfectly healthy babies that they loved and wanted with everything in them. I can't believe I didn't see the lack of balance and symmetry in the world, but now that it's in my face, in full view, I can never go back to feeling loved and safe and protected. I don't know if I will ever trust anyone ever again. I put my faith and trust in many different places - in God, in my family, in my husband, in myself, and in my doctors - and nobody could make sure I brought home my two perfect babies with me. It's the worst betrayal, to trust others with something as precious as your children, and to have them die. How the hell did this happen. How the hell did this happen. How the hell did this happen. I can't even bring myself to type question marks, that's how robotic I've become. I can't bring myself to sob and scream these questions, they just play on a permanent loop in my head in the background like horrible elevator music. So here I am. Typing, typing, typing. Going through the motions. Because they tell me one foot in front of the other, one day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time, one second at a time. But I don't know if I can trust anybody anymore, so how do I know they are telling me the truth when they say it will be worth it to get through the days a second at a time? And even if I do survive this, who the hell will I be when I come out on the other side?