"The Lord is near to those who are broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Life After Death
To say that the summer of 2008 was a REALLY bad summer, doesn't quite describe how bad it was. I couldn't sleep at night, I would just sob and sob. I was so angry at everyone, at myself, at God, and Dan...everyone. When you loose a child (or anyone) you go through stages of grief and mourning. You not only mourn the loss of your child, but you mourn the loss of yourself. You are not the same after going through something like this. I am not the same and will never be the person I was before Brynn died. You try to pretend to be your old self, but it makes things worse.
I spent most of the summer curled up on the couch in my pajamas, eating candy and drinking Diet Coke. I did not want to leave the house. I shut the blinds and pretended to not be home. One night I went to give Dan something outside and I saw the neighbor down the street that was due the same week as me - I had a meltdown and crawled back inside to my couch - it was safe.
Dan and I began seeing a counselor that helps people dealing with the loss of a loved one. He helped us a lot. He helped me understand that it was not my fault. He helped me understand that I might never know why this happened and to be OK with that. He helped me not be so angry at Dan. I kept telling him that Dan wasn't mourning like he should, he wasn't sad like I was, he needed to cry more, and our counselor kept telling me that men and women show it in different ways. I thought that was bullshit. But now looking back it is true. I now realize that Dan couldn't stop life and grieve like I was because someone had to keep us going and it certainly was not going to be me. He had to take care of me, which was a really big job...he didn't have the time, the energy, to shut down like I did. I understand now, but I was really hateful to him then because when you are in it, you are in it...and nothing anybody says makes sense. I told him many times that it was his fault, he didn't want this baby and so she died. Yes, I did and I am so ashamed that I said such hateful things to the man that held me in his arms every single night until I fell asleep.
The summer was horrible and to make matters worse, I became obsessed with becoming pregnant again. I did not want to replace the baby I lost...I just still wanted a baby. I didn't care how I got one - stealing one was an option in my mind...OK not really, but I was teetering on the edge - if you only knew how many times I almost fell.