A lot of people think they know what it is like to be an angel mom.
They think the pain goes away. You grieve like anyone grieves their grandma, or even their dog. You bury the dead, you move on.
Baby loss is so much more. Especially when it’s recurrent, and you have no living children. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Sometimes, time makes it worse. It’s been 2 1/2 years since I lost my first baby. Now I’ve suffered 7 losses, and I’m 30 with basically no hope of carrying to term. I wanted at least 5 kids. Now I’ll be lucky to have one.
Let me give you a glimpse into the pain that I work hard to hide most days. Not so that I appear okay, so much as so that I don’t completely break down and become unable to function. That, and the fact that people simply don’t understand, and offer the worst, most hurtful advice.
May 3, 2016
Today I was invited to my brother’s baby shower. We now live in a different state, so I had no idea it would be held while we were in town. I felt my world stop. It was going to be hard enough to see my SIL pregnant, with my brother being an excited dad. But a whole baby shower? I’ve only attempted one shower since my first loss 2 1/2 years ago… And I had to leave early, and cried for days.
I tried to be nice about it, but how am I supposed to explain that with every happy and excited thought I have of my future niece, comes an abundance of pain and sadness at the thought that I should have several children by now…but they are all dead. All seven of them. 💔
How can I explain that I was so excited to find the perfect onesie for them, and excitedly bought it, only to start sobbing with the thought that I should be buying clothes for my babies?
How can I explain that I’m so proud of my brother, and think he is going to be an amazing dad, but that smile on my face while thinking about that quickly turns into sadness and a pool of tears when I think about how my husband would be such a great dad, but has been continually denied the opportunity?
I can’t explain. I try. But no one understands. I have the worst of both worlds. I have the empty arms of infertility, and the sorrow of baby loss. How am I supposed to cope with the longing to have a child while mourning my dead children at the same time? It’s the most utterly hopeless feeling I’ve ever experienced.
May 4th, 2016
Today, I smiled at a little kiddo, big puffy jacket on, backpack bouncing as he ran to the school bus. He couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5. How adorable. His mom waved goodbye.
His mom…waved goodbye.
Great, here come the tears.
How wonderful it must be to have a little kiddo. They’re a lot of work, sure, but they’re so darn fun.
I hit up a store, searching for sheets. I passed the baby clothes, and swallowed down my tears. Not in public.
On the way to the register, there they were again. The girly ones were so cute… I haven’t bought baby girl clothes since my 4th loss. I was SURE it was a girl. Before that, the last time I shopped for them was when my little sister was born. Close to 16 years ago.
Ok, I can do this.
I found some cute outfits, and was so proud of myself for getting over it, and enjoying the thought of my little baby niece in them.
On the way home, my BIL sent me a text saying he wanted to change the Internet provider (he is moving into the basement apartment at our house). I freaked. We had just talked to this sales guy and decided to wait, because we don’t know where we will be in a year…I’m hoping we will be back home, where I can get better medical care and hopefully answers, and help carrying to term. Not to mention, I just can’t handle anything else right now. I know this is a small thing to everyone else, but I’m already hanging on by a really thin thread, juggling work, cooking gluten free due to my stupid allergy, cleaning and moving, health issues and fatigue, and managing bills… Adding or changing anything just sends me into a panic attack. And I’m not a person who has panic attacks. I just can’t handle anything else right now. I’m doing good to make it through the day…bottling up my grief enough to accomplish even one task is a pretty amazing feat for me right now.
I got home and unloaded my purchases.
Thoughts of what our baby would look like in them flooded my mind. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t help it. Would she have been a tiny baby? A big girl? Bald like her daddy? Or born with hair over her ears like her mommy? Or somewhere in between? Would she have a hint of Asian in her eyes?
I miss you, my babies. People say God has a reason for everything. Those people have never brought 7 dead babies into this world. In less than 3 years.
May 5, 2016
Today, I checked Facebook as usual…in a weight loss group, women were talking about how they were bummed about their post-birth hips, and they’d never fit back into their pre-birth jeans, even if they lost weight. I know they have no clue, but I wanted to cry. I get it, that’s a huge bummer to them. But I would give anything to have that “problem,” even once, much less several times like them.
As Mother’s Day nears, I am consumed with thoughts of my babies. My first baby would be turning 2 this month. I’d probably be getting a cute hand-print card for Mother’s Day. Pictures with the kiddo, who I think was a boy.
It’s hard to force myself to shower and go on with the day, when these thoughts haunt my every waking hour. And frequently my sleeping hours, too.
May 6, 2016
Today, I’m greeted with women posting about their moms, and kids. I don’t have a mom. Which is why Mother’s Day has always sucked for me. No, she’s not dead in the ground, just dead to me. She was abusive in all the worst ways, and finally left when I was 17, and my youngest sibling was only 3. I became “mom” to them, along with others who took on that role. I dread every Mother’s Day for this reason. I can’t even think of her with bittersweet memories, or place flowers on a grave. Instead, I try and block out the memories of her beating me, and screaming “I hate you, you ruined my life!”
When I first got pregnant, all I could think about was “now I will finally have a reason to enjoy Mother’s Day, because now I’m a mommy!”
And…I am. A mother of 7 dead babies.
All around me are pictures of women and their babies and kids. Making Mother’s Day projects, attending Mother’s Day functions, it just never ends. I should be enjoying that, but instead, my babies are in heaven, and I’m here mourning them. I may never hold a living child in my arms. 😦
May 7, 2016
Today, it’s starting. People posting about their moms and babies, changing their profile pics…
I thought I was doing fine, until tonight, when it all hit me. How will I get through tonorrow?