It's been harder than I thought it would be, trying to put everything into words, and I'm finding that despite being an avid reader, and a not so shabby writer, that finding the words is so impossible.
Some days I feel guilty because I sit and I cry and I think I should be pregnant right now, I should be rubbing my belly and singing to it, and eating all sorts of weird concoctions that only pregnant women can dream up. The single onesie in the closet sits there waiting for a baby that isn't coming. And I've felt ashamed and embarrassed, like my body somehow killed the baby, I worried my partner would think I was broken when I told him that I'd miscarried, that somehow I had managed to kill our baby. We named her Sophie. It wasn't the name I had picked out, hell it wasn't even a name I liked, but after she died, it just came into my head and that's what it was. Her name is Sophie.
We bought her flowers, after she died, tulips. The most beautiful brightly coloured magenta tulips. We put them in the bedroom right next to our bed, in front of the window. There was no point to putting them outside, it's too cold, they'd only die. And the last thing I need right now is for another dead thing to remind me of her. The whole reason I got them was because they're so brilliant and beautiful and full of life just like I imagine she would be if she was alive.
It's funny how I feel so inadequate, and this is totally f*d up I'll admit, but I feel like my loss wasn't as much as what other women have gone through.. like people who have had stillbirth babies. I couldn't imagine having to give birth to a baby that has fully formed little fingers and toes but isn't moving.. Although the alternative isn't much better let me tell you. Waking up in the middle of the night to the worst abdominal cramping I've ever felt, and racing to the bathroom only to bleed massive amounts of blood and tissue matter. The baby wasn't fully formed but it wasn't a pretty sight either. I almost wish she had been much bigger, so that they could have done an autopsy.. I want to know why she died. Did my body eat her? Did my red blood cells attack her like she was an intruder.. what happened, was she deformed or defective?
I try to tell myself (and my partner) that if she had made it to term she might have been sick, she might have died anyway, she might have been this, or she might have had that.. I keep trying to convince myself that it happened for a reason. But really that doesn't quite make everything better now does it?
Some days I feel guilty because I sit and I cry and I think I should be pregnant right now, I should be rubbing my belly and singing to it, and eating all sorts of weird concoctions that only pregnant women can dream up. The single onesie in the closet sits there waiting for a baby that isn't coming. And I've felt ashamed and embarrassed, like my body somehow killed the baby, I worried my partner would think I was broken when I told him that I'd miscarried, that somehow I had managed to kill our baby. We named her Sophie. It wasn't the name I had picked out, hell it wasn't even a name I liked, but after she died, it just came into my head and that's what it was. Her name is Sophie.
We bought her flowers, after she died, tulips. The most beautiful brightly coloured magenta tulips. We put them in the bedroom right next to our bed, in front of the window. There was no point to putting them outside, it's too cold, they'd only die. And the last thing I need right now is for another dead thing to remind me of her. The whole reason I got them was because they're so brilliant and beautiful and full of life just like I imagine she would be if she was alive.
It's funny how I feel so inadequate, and this is totally f*d up I'll admit, but I feel like my loss wasn't as much as what other women have gone through.. like people who have had stillbirth babies. I couldn't imagine having to give birth to a baby that has fully formed little fingers and toes but isn't moving.. Although the alternative isn't much better let me tell you. Waking up in the middle of the night to the worst abdominal cramping I've ever felt, and racing to the bathroom only to bleed massive amounts of blood and tissue matter. The baby wasn't fully formed but it wasn't a pretty sight either. I almost wish she had been much bigger, so that they could have done an autopsy.. I want to know why she died. Did my body eat her? Did my red blood cells attack her like she was an intruder.. what happened, was she deformed or defective?
I try to tell myself (and my partner) that if she had made it to term she might have been sick, she might have died anyway, she might have been this, or she might have had that.. I keep trying to convince myself that it happened for a reason. But really that doesn't quite make everything better now does it?
6 comments:
I am so sorry for your loss. Apparently, guilt and blames are common feelings around this part of blogland..I would tell you not to beat yourself up, but I don't listen to my own advice..
I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. There truly are no words. I agree with CLC on all fronts! Including the don't beat yourself up one...then again, I don't listen to it either!
Thinking of you.
I'm so sorry for your loss of Sophie. I hope you find some sense of solace in writing and reading the blogs here in deadbabyland.
Thank you so much for your comments, I wish it was easier for all of us to not blame ourselves.. and writing and reading these blogs really really does give me solace. i know that Sophie has to be out there somewhere with all the other babies..
All things you said to yourself and your partner after your daughter died, those are the same things every stillborn mom said. As you know by now, you are not alone. My son was stillborn 4 weeks before your daughter. I am rooting for you/along with you for this pregnancy. :) Take care.
It is 3am and I can't sleep. I decided to pass the time reading my favorite blogs on the computer. Somehow I came across yours and the line, " I miscarried my first baby and will always wonder why" stopped me in my tracks. I too miscarried my first baby - on Thanksgiving of all days. That was almost four months ago now but my heart still aches every day. I am equally obsessed with the idea of becoming pregnant again and terrified of it. I am angry at my coworkers who are due around the time I should have been (there are three of them). I will forever wonder what I did wrong and why my fiance and I were dealt this awful loss. Our little Bun is forever in my heart!
I'd just like to thank you for being honest and choosing to be upfront with your miscarriage in blog land. I'm saddened every time I hear of this happening to someone else but also calmed to know i'm not the only one. So thank you.
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