Have I changed or am I afraid other people will think I've changed?
OK...so this question was in a conversation context that wasn't exactly phrased this way, but it's the question I came up with for today's self-psychoanalysis.
Of course I've changed. How could I NOT change? Everywhere I go there will be this missing piece, this emptiness. Everything I look at I will see where Alex should be but isn't. There is this sadness that follows me, and despite how I try, I can't shake it. I will always find it unfair that others will have happy and healthy new babies but mine died. Not that I've changed so much as to wish anyone else ill...but why us and Alex?
But more than just the present sadness, I know there is more sadness in my future...and fear. I will never again experience the unaltered joy of being pregnant. With a positive pregnancy test comes the very real knowledge that it could just as easily end in a nightmare. I will never have the pure experience of hoping and dreaming for my child(ren). I will always recognize, as a very real possibility, that any one of us could die today. That doesn't make for polite dinner conversation.
The other half of the question has a little less definite answer. Am I afraid my friends will think I've changed? Yes and no. It would be too difficult to maintain my friendships as they were before...with me acting like nothing was different. But at the same time, I don't want to ever have to deal with the sighs and the eye rolls that I know will come eventually, as if to say, "Aren't you over that yet? Can't you talk about anything else?" I know they will come...because I've been guilty of giving them myself. I'm ashamed to admit that, but it's the brutal truth. I have not been the best friend any person could have. I have been self-absorbed and often times impatient with friends who needed my love and support. So it would be poetic justice that I get that sort of treatment in return...I understand that.
Now maybe my friends are better friends than I give them credit for and they won't ever roll there eyes or become impatient with my grieving...but I'm not sure I'm willing to risk it. Yet another irrational fear/loss of faith that comes with losing my baby, I guess. It's easier to shut my friends out and deal with them on my own terms (not talking to them except to invite them to read this blog...and email). That way I know I control the situation as much as I can, and I don't have to risk disappointment. What is my problem??? I'm a coward. This has turned me into a coward...afraid of my own shadow.
1 comment:
Sweetie,
Everyone is self-absorbed. Life just sometimes shocks us into being less so every now and then.
I know that after Lucas died, I was definitely less relaxed around Angie after she was born. Especially as we neared the three month mark (Lucas died at 13 weeks). It was terrible for me to go back to work at that point. I called Chas and asked him to make sure she was still breathing. Losing Lucas, and then my friend Angie really cured me of that sense of invulnerability and immortality we all have when we are young.
You have just been slapped with a big ugly dose of the worst side of reality and things can never be the same for you. Losing Alex is enormous and it will take some time before it overshadows everything else for you. Eventually you will have the joy in your future as well as the sadness, but for now you can just see the sadness. That's okay.
And your friends will (and do)understand. No one is expecting you to talk about sunshine and bunnies. Grieve, be bitter and angry. That's all okay. I understand, and as your friend, I'll be here in whatever capacity you need. You can alvways vent or rage to me.
I miss seeing you, but I understand that you need your space.
I'll stop babbling now.
Love you.
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