It's springtime now here in Missouri, and it's absolutely gorgeous out. Everything is blooming, the birds are singing and every fucking new mommy in the universe is out pushing their little prams around.
Spring is my favorite time of year, I think. Everything is fresh and new and sparkley--I love it. Last winter, just a few months ago, when the weather was cold and icky I would pat my pregnant belly and talk to Nate about how soon we'd be out in the warm sun, enjoying the newly bloomed flowers in his spankin' new stroller. Every time I pictured springtime, it was me and Nate. Buddies. When I was pregnant, I would think about all of spring art fests and getting pies ready for the fair, and there was Nate in his sling and I was the Mom on the Go. But now his stroller is in a closet at my mother-in-law's and his sling is packed away with his baby clothes. THIS IS SO UNFAIR!
Before and during my pregnancy, I really didn't notice pregnant women--now it seems like they are everywhere. It just hurts so much to look at them---it almost feels like they are rubbing it in my face, and that is a stupid thought. They didn't do anything to me except stand there in the rosy glow of pregnancy, and I hate them. How dare they leave the house? I'm crazy, crazy, crazy. Pregnancy is a wonderful thing, and something to be proud of. Pregnant women are beautiful. When I was pregnant, I wore tight tops to make my belly look as round as possible. I even had the belly button that stuck waaaaay out--I was so proud. Look how huuuuuge I am! I am a fertility goddess and my husband is a total stud! In all of my innocence, I never thought that someone might feel sad to look at me because of something tragic in their life. Recently, I saw a very pregnant teenager in a tight little top at Wal-Mart. I went through the whole "why me?" saga. Why does she get to have a baby?! I'm the one that's 31 and happily married and have a Master's degree! Why did my baby die?! Then I have to talk myself out of it--what makes me more deserving than her? Nothing. She has the right to a healthy baby and her baby has every right to live. Just because she's a kid, does that make her less deserving or less capable of loving that child? No. Get over youself, Laura. I'm trying--I really am. But my heart is broken. I'd always thought that I knew what a broken heart felt like, maybe after that frat guy broke up with me or whatever, but that was nothing. A broken heart really truly hurts--it's excruciating.
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4 comments:
Laura,
First, let me say how terribly sorry I am for you, your husband and your little angel, Nate.
I'm a fellow mother in mourning, and I just stumbled upon your blog today. The blogging world has become a good (for lack of a better word) outlet for us mothers who are trying to wade through the sea of emotions that this kind of grieving brings.
Sending you many prayers for peace and comfort.
I does. It hurts so much, and I'm just so sorry.
I still sometimes feel quite painful stabs of anger and jealousy when I see pregnant women. And there are days when I want to shriek at the next mother I see with a stroller on a sunny spring day.
It gets easier, but it still hurts like hell sometimes.
(((((((((HUGS))))))))
I am so sorry for the loss of precious Nate.
I, too, didn't know how physically painfully the death of a child could be. I also didn't know I could conjure up such dark feelings for people I don't even know simply because their child lives. All I can say for my short experience as a grieving mom is that some days are easier than others.
Here's to hoping that blogging helps you heal--I know it has been a life-saver for me. It is somehow comforting to not feel so alone.
Yep. Exactly. Hate them. Wish I didn't.
P.S. Thanks for coming by my blog the other day.
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