Thursday, May 1, 2008

2 years

I have a post I want to share of my sono from last week and pictures (that hopefully came out clear enough) but this post seemed to weigh heavy on my heart and I couldn't bring myself to write about all that when the anniversary of loosing sweetpea was coming up. I have mixed feelings this year about it, could be because last year I was not pregnant and felt hopeless that my one chance had come and gone on May 1, 2006. But yet here I am 20 weeks along (i have to update my widget sorry) and with a presumbly healthy baby yet still I feel conflicted. It seems like it's someone else whose pregnant yet I know it's me and I'm not feeling the pain of being stressed about not being pregnant; does that make any sense? I think on this day and if we had not lost our little angel I'd have a toddler and one on the way, we'd be a family of 4 to be not a family of 3 to be. I try to make sense of it and tell myself that all things happen for a reason but yet I can't find the reason. And because of what happened 2 yrs ago I feel somewhat unattached to this baby, maybe it's because even though the wound has closed up and doesn't hurt like it did it's still tender and I dont' want to get attached to this baby until it's born just to make sure NOTHING else can happen and I have to go through all those awful emotions of loss. I feel guilty because I feel this baby deserves more of me than just nutrition and a safe environment; but I just can't seem to open up my heart to the prospect of all being ok, I keep thinking what if the rug is pulled from me if I allow myself to actually start enjoying this pregnancy and actually start making plans for a baby to come join our house in September? the fact that I feel pokes and bubbles every once in a while doesn't help me feel connected to this baby. I've fears and I'm not sure if they are normal fears that "normal pregnant" women feel....I really don't feel like I'm a normal pregnant woman....I still feel different. I fear that the baby will not bond with me and will not want me, that I may not be able to bond with the baby, that I won't be a good mom to this baby. I just wish and keep waiting for the day that someone can tell me "ok now you can exhale, all is ok and will remain ok" I just want to start feeling as a mom-to-be should be feeling at this moment.

3 comments:

LIW (Lady In Waiting) said...

Luckily (and knock on wood!) I have not experienced a similar loss but yet I feel as if I could have written this post. I have also numbed myself because I fear, with every fiber of my being, the mess I would become if Little Life didn't make it. I keep waiting to be able to exhale, too, and keep hoping that one day I will wake and simply be able to do it. I haven't made it there yet. Instead, I nearly panic after I talk to someone about the pregnancy. The "what if" it all falls apart, how will I cope?

But please don't feel guilty. You are doing your very best. And once your baby is healthy and in your arms, you will bond with him/her. Even if it takes a few days or a week, you will. I bet (and I am hoping!) that seeing my real, live baby will tear down this wall that I have built around my heart to protect me from dispair. And I hope the same for you.

Having said all of that, perhaps we are still in mourning - you from losing Sweatpea and from IF. Me from IF. That's enough to make anyone numb, right?

XOXO

xavier2001 said...

Just wanted to send you a hug. The two year annivesary of my loss is coming up in June and it's so hard not to think about it. It's such a strange place to feel so blessed about being pg/having children yet so sad at the same time about loss. I experienced so many of the same fears duing my second pregnancy and now regret not enjoying it because I may never get the chance to be pg again.

Cibele said...

I can relate to your post. I lost my first baby and I had a hard time during my second pregnancy dealing with the fear and the storm of emotions. I had my girl 5 weeks ago , it does not erase the pain but it heals most of it!
I am sorry about your loss