It’s been one week since we learned you were gone. Today is not a good day, not because of the one week anniversary, just because I am extremely tearful. Today, I woke up alone. Just as I walked into that exam room without my husband, so I walk today, without him.
Yes, I had a friend with me, that fateful day in the exam room. I was very grateful to have her support, to have her come home with me and spend time with me, but she was not my life partner. She was not my husband. This journey started out so backwards it seems. I understood why he wasn’t there. I did not blame him for not being there. I am shocked he was able to stay and complete his day with how upset I knew he was but today, he is gone by choice.
He was up early, at 2am. Part of me wanted to get up and leave. I wanted to force him to have to stay home. I cried for hours last night and hoped that he would choose me. I prayed for a complication, bleeding, illness, anything so that he would choose me. He left before 4am. He chose work.
I know that men and women grieve differently. I teach this to my families who go through this loss but what I can’t teach them is how to cope with the feelings of inadequacy. The feelings of work being chosen over her/him. It’s a dark place to be. I don’t want to die, but I have no will to go on. I couldn’t hurt myself but I could care less if something happened. And going through these moments alone, suck.
If you are reading this, you are at least 1-2 weeks behind where time actually is. I wrote these on the actual day but I am posting them days/weeks later. So please keep that in mind. This place I am in right now is dark.
I miss my baby, I miss being pregnant, I miss the life we were dreaming of having. As my bookmark says, “What I lost, was a dream.” It feels like it was a dream. Pregnant one moment only to awaken no longer pregnant. You wonder, was it real? Was THAT the dream? Was I dreaming inside a dream?
There is a breeze this morning. The newly grown leaves are twirling and flickering back and forth on the trees. I stare at them. If you saw me, it would look like I was staring off into space but really, I am studying those leaves. So free yet tied to the branch that gives them life. To let go, means certain death. Falling to the ground, shriveling up from lack of life sustaining food and water, crumbled by a step on top. Left to blow away with the wind.
It’s me, clinging to life right now but I am doing this today, alone. No words I can say will change my husbands mind. No words will bring him home to me. This was our exchange of messages this morning:
4:01am – “I hope your day is better today. I love you and I’m thinking about you.” – Husband
6:47am – “I don’t like what you said. “Have a better day.” Its as if I can control my feelings right now. A better day would be to still be pregnant. A better day would be to be here with you and not alone with my thoughts. I will not have a better day.” – Me
7:07am – “I didn’t mean to upset you, I just hoped you would feel better today, that’s all.” – Husband
7:10am – “Well, you just enjoy your day. Getting out, being with people, being away from me. I shall sit here, suffering alone with my thoughts and feelings. Worried about going back to work on Tuesday and trying to be happy and involved for Timmy. That’s my life today. Which sucks.” – Me
7:53am – “I prayed for a complication just so you would stay home with me. It hurt so much to see you so concerned with work. Especially when you thought you could go to work the morning of surgery and took it day by day instead of just committing to time with me.” – Me
8:07am – “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was hurting you. I’m concerned about a lot of things right now. I am very stressed about many things right now. You and I are not communicating very well right now.” – Husband
8:11am – “A shift has taken place where work seems more important than family. I must be failing in some way to provide the gratification you need so you don’t seek it through work. You only wanted one day for yourself to grieve and then you wanted to return quickly. My surgery got in the way of that.” – Me
You can see the childishness in this. I know he is grieving too. He has shown his grief. He has also mentioned he seems to be feeling much better much faster this time. I thought I was on the same path too, until yesterday. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was the anesthesia, but here I am, in that dark place again.
I hate this place.
Things I have been told:
You can’t stay depressed.
You have other kids you need to be functional for.
You have to move forward.
In reality, I want time to stand still right now or then there’s the other feeling. The feeling that is hard to talk about because people instantly take it the wrong way. It’s the feeling of wanting to die. It’s not suicidal ideation. I am not wanting to kill myself. It’s the feeling of just being so deep in the grief, you want to die. The pain is so overwhelming and there is no way out right now, you just want to die. It’s just like this bible verse: Matthew 26:38 – “My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death.”
Yes. To the point of death. But alas, I will not die. I will move forward. I will come through this grief. I know I will. This is yet, just another moment in time.
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