Wednesday, January 4, 2012

The Aftermath

Well,  I have been swirling in the aftermath of New Year's Day when we spread Silas's ashes in the ocean. It is crazy how the grief can creep up and bowl you over so intensely.  I had to leave work on Monday and I spent all night last night in tears.  I even cancelled my birthday party for Friday because the thought of "pretending happy" is just too much for me.  I still think what we did on Sunday and how we did it was perfect, but I hate that we had to do it at all.  I hate that my son is not here.  I keep hearing "how was your New Years?"  and it is such a stab in the chest.  I'm not about to tell people I spent it letting go of my babies cremations and so they assume I did the party/hangover weekend thing.  So wrong.  It's been nine months and sometimes the pain hurts like it did 6 months ago.

Plus, I am now eight months pregnant and finally hit the point where I feel really done being pregnant.  I have been pregnant for a year and a half straight and I am tired.  I am tired of all the usual pregnancy ailments and I just want my little girl here.  I want it to be February already and to know that she is alive and safe in this world.  I think part of what has hit me so hard is the fear that I might lose her too and I can't even bear the thought.  I won't survive another loss.  I hate that even have to think that way.  I hate that I can't be joyful and excited and confident that this pregnancy is going to end in a happy, healthy, alive baby.  I hate that I can't enjoy my birthday or the holidays.  I hate that this little girl is a result of the death of my little boy.  I want both my babies.  I hate that I feel so alone in this and that no one in my IRL can truly understand because they haven't experienced it.  I want to be "normal" again.  I want my life back a year ago.  I want my son!  And, I want my daughter here safe and alive in my arms.  I want assurance that she will be okay and I won't have to suffer another loss now or in the future.  I want to know that she will grow up and grow old, out live me.

uuugghhhh…why does life have to be so hard?


  1. I'm 7.5 months pregnant... so just behind you and I KNOW what you're thinking/feeling.

    I cannot lose another baby. I might as well be put straight into the looney bin if I lose a baby just a year after losing my full term baby boy, Andrew.

    It scares the daylights out of me. :/

  2. Shaina, I came on here to comment on your New Years post (even though I mentioned how impacted I was by it at work, obviously there are limitations in that environment), and found this new one. While I am still so touched by how beautifully and perfectly that ceremonious day went, it also breaks my heart that it has made the pain of losing Silas as raw and palpable as ever. It does make sense though. It also makes me so sad how isolated and dreary life can feel for you in your grief. Honestly, if I could understand and personally feel the intensity of your pain so that you would feel less alone, I would, in a heartbeat. I wish I could help make things better for you. I just want you to know how much I marvel over how you just keep going, how strong you've been through this second pregnancy with the constant pummeling of real-based fears and anxieties and the physical exhaustion of never-ending pregnancy, on top of the continued grief and anger...I am humbled by the cards you've been dealt in the last year, and how resiliently you continue to play them. I hope that, even if you don't always feel it, you can acknowledge the truth in that. I have a hunch that your little girl is going to be very strong and resilient too...growing inside you during this hardest time of your life, how could she not be, since from the point of inception, resiliency is all she knows? I know the words are futile, but I am certain that you have nothing to worry about--she will absolutely be safe and in your arms in February :)

  3. The last month is so brutal. I don't know what support I can offer, but just hang in there. She will be worth every ounce of your stress and worry. But I know, I just wish her brother was here too. It sucks, it really does.

  4. I hope these final days skate by and you have a healthy baby in your arms soon. I worry about a second loss all the time, and how I honestly could not do it again, I just known I couldn't.