Terrible thoughts

  I know I'm supposed to miss Juniper. He is supposed to be the one I'm grieving. But you know what? I didn't really know him. What I do miss, what I did know is this. He was a wonderful surprise. He kicked a lot, until he didn't anymore. And he had the hiccups at least once a day, everyday. That's it. That's my baby's legacy. And I'm the only one who knows it.

  He was supposed to be a nice finale to our family. He was to be my VBAC triumph. Born breech, but not surgically removed. And certainly not dead. He was supposed to sleep with us and wear handmade diapers and ride in the ergo and grow fat on my milk and play with his brother and be doted upon by his sister. But he isn't, he won't. He did not make it to the party. He was my last and my biggest failure. Sometimes I am angry with my dead baby. How is that for Fucked Up Beyond All Repair?

  I cannot let that rest. That is NOT the way I want to be done. So, what I grieve is not this person that only I knew. And only knew a little. I grieve the potential. I grieve the missing piece. I grieve the emptiness. 

  I am terrified of the never feeling whole again for the rest of my life. 

And when I feel like this. This anger at having to be done when I am NOT done. I am supposed to "sit with it." What the hell is that. How can you "sit with" something that makes your very heart itch? That gnaws at your brain at all hours? That you could fix with one little cell... IF ONLY.

  And I am angry. Why didn't anyone tell us that this could happen. Why didn't anyone say "are you sure you want to compromise your fertility? What if this baby dies? What then? How will you go on knowing that you had to end in such a dismal failure and  

THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT?"  

  Why was I not informed?

  Yes it could happen again, or it couldn't. I am more afraid of this feeling than of  trying again. Because I am selfish and want more, even if it hurts. I am broken and this is the only thing I can think of to fix me. And I cannot be satisfied with failure. And everyone else involved is too fucking cowardly and selfish and scared to even talk about anything, ever. 

  I am not a quitter I try and try and try. I don't believe in miracles or wishes. I believe in determination and perseverance and I can't even do that. I can't DO ANYTHING! I can "sit with it" and let it destroy me.

   AND nothing can "take my mind off it" NOTHING. So I don't care about vacations and cameras and lawnmowers and beds. And I will cry in the Home Depot bathroom because some guy was feeding his baby a granola bar while they were shopping and even if you buy me a $10.50 4-pack of beer I will not be happy. 

 And sometimes I will pick the dog up and hold her,even though she smells bad, because she weighs about the same as an infant. And my arms ache so badly from emptiness that I want to cut them off.

• Terrible Thought by Poe

 

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