Born Still but Still Born

Today marks 2 years from the day I had my d&c with my miscarriage.

I was going back into my livejournal (another blog community where I had more of a private online journal back then)and read through my entries from that time all the way through Curtis' first birthday in May of 2007.

Wow. It is so....raw. And angry. And raw some more.

Warning: Bad language ahead. I should probably take it out since this is a public blog and I don't want that judgement... but it is how I really felt and when I am hurt and angry, I swear. These are some excerpts of my journals from Jan to May 2007.

I don't even know how other stillbirth/loss moms feel. Because everyone grieves so differently. Sometimes you do feel so isolated. Soon, it marks 9months without him. Pretty soon I will be without him longer than he was with us. All the memorial walks, websites, memorial candle lightings, ceremonies...well, honestly, they are nice but I don't want to be a part of them. I want to be part of the group that gets to bring my baby home, not have to decide to do with his little body. I want to be part of the group that talks about poop explosions and teething and being too exhausted. But, none of that is my life. My life is forever marked as "Before Curtis" and "After Curtis". My child died. My child died before I could ever hear him cry. I don't even know WHEN my child died. How sad is that? The best they could estimate was Monday night or Tuesday. What kind of person doesn't even know their child is gone?

I sat in his room Sunday and looked at those tiny newborn diapers. Diapers that should be in a landfill, screwing up the environment right now. Because, he should be 9 months. Not sitting in an urn.

Who the hell did I piss off? What did I do wrong? Graduate school? Graduate college? Work with children with special needs? Wait to find the right guy to marry? Nice to my parents? Kind to animals? Never took an illegal drug/never smoked a cigarette? Why was my child taken? What did _I_ do????? I had to have done something. Because this pain, this torture has to be for a damn reason. Why can people WHO DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY ARE PREGNANT AND GET NO PRENATAL CARE have a healthy baby? (The 420 pound woman from last week comes to mind. Who said she never felt the baby kick because she was so heavy. UM, babies kick from the INSIDE.)The injustice of it all pisses me off. So, not only do I have to be jealous of people who get knocked up by accident or really easy, I have to be
jealous of other stillbirth moms who get pregnant months after their loss. So many have a baby just a year later. Not me. It is freaking MARCH. In two months he will have been gone a year. A full year. And I am still stuck, in my house, where my baby didn't come home. No closer to adding to our family than we were a year ago. No closer to seeing my husband hold his living child. How stupid is it? To be jealous of someone who has had their child taken away from them? But I am. Jealous that their bodies WORK. Their eggs pop out like good little eggs, and implant like good little eggs and the cells divide LIKE THEY ARE SUPPOSE TO. I don't begrudge anyone their kid. I really don't. I am very happy for you. I am just really really really fucking pissed off for myself. Pissed off at my body. Pissed off that it has been so long that my son is gone and I have to keep living day to day. I have no choice. No way out. I have to keep living. Anger is a nasty emotion. But sometimes I like it better than sadness

I was at lunch today at the bagel shop, and here comes a pregnant woman, with a shirt on that said "Due in May with a boy!" So, after I bolted out of the bagel shop, I went to Target. Into the baby clothes section. I have never allowed myself in that section since Curtis died. I looked at all the 12 month clothes, I looked at all the Easter clothes, I picked out an outfit I would have liked him to wear. It was so cute, little khakis, a little teddy bear on the vest, a little plaid shirt underneath... I pretended for a moment he was at daycare and I could pick him up for a few hours. Sometimes, I just pretend he is upstairs, sleeping. (I thought I was crazy until I heard another loss mom say she does the same thing.)I then went to my car and cried and cried. I just want my baby here. I don't know why this happened. And I am so flipping sick of feeling like this

We saw Reign Over Me today. That movie hit grief head on. Remembering is too painful. Moving on is too hard. So here we are. People giving me the little "poor you" routine. "It's okay to feel bad". Really? Is it? Thanks for the insight. You go back to your happy little life and happy family and quit fucking pretend like you give two craps about me

I really don't want to hear "you are still a mother! You are such a good mommy to Curtis. He is a lucky boy to have you s his mom."I am a mother is the sense that I gave birth, but I am not an every day mom. I don't get hugs and kisses and diapers to change. I don't have a kid to pick up from daycare and get holiday pictures with. He is not lucky. He got robbed of his life. Robbed of his first steps, his first Christmas, his first kiss, graduating college, meeting the love of his life. He is NOT lucky. He got robbed. And we got robbed of seeing him grow up. I am not an everyday mom. And I want to be his everyday mom.

There is no way I can be a good mom to Curtis. He isn't here. The things I do are in his memory. It isn't mothering him. Mothering a child is completely different than looking at his pictures and uploading things to his website. This isn't "mothering" it is grieving a little baby who never got to even take a breath or cry.

I really have a hard time believing anyone gets to bring a living baby home. Mainly because I have heard 1001 sad stories this year. It is all stillbirth/infant death all the time. I am sorry if those that are pregnant are bothered by me saying that, but ... I read your journals, your feelings, I have seen a lot of you bring babies home just fine and dandy. My story isn't like that, but my story is just as real. Except I know people don't read because I am that scary reminder. That you CAN go 40 weeks and not come home with your baby. Forty fucking weeks. I can still see Craig, two days before we lost Curtis, tell my stomach to "get the show on the road" he was ready to meet his son. It is one if life's cruelest jokes. To carry your child for 9 months and only get to hold their dead body for 4 hours.

Oh, at a wedding this weekend, I counted the number of times I was told "well, after you have kids it all changes...." "it is so hard with kids to..." 36 times between Friday and Saturday. Each and every one of these people know we lost a baby. But these words roll out and each are like a little punch. After I had a child, yes everything changed. But not in the way they are talking about. Once again, further proof people think I need to be over it. Even my SIL admitted she didn't realize the magnitude of our loss until that charity banquet. She, with a 2 year old, admitted she thought we should be over it. At least she had the guts to admit it. Our loss, is gigantic. It is Bah, I know I am just down because I think what this weekend or next weekend should be. It should be Curtis' first birthday party. I don't have a living child. In the past year I have been pregnant two times and two times I lost a baby. Once at 40 weeks, once very early. It is so hard. He should be walking and talking by now. We would be entering the crazy fun stage. Why was he robbed of his life?? What had that poor baby done? What had we done?

So, I am reading over this today. And crying. Feeling all of those emotions right at the surface again. Two years after the fact. Reading over all of this makes me realize how far I have come...but yet, haven't really. I know that makes no sense. Having Claudia here _does_ help. It really does.

But there isn't a day I don't cry for Curtis. Usually in the car, on the way home from work on my way to pick her up.I dream about that 2 and a half year old running to me. I get choked up in the injustice of it all. How I know that I am not alone. It has happened to far too many women to count.

I am still so angry. Bitter... one thing that struck me when I was reading over my old journals is this "Anger is a nasty emotion. But sometimes I like it better than sadness."

So true.

I hate knowing my family will never be complete. He is always missing, and I am always missing because of it.