The 5th Christmas
I should make anniversary chart for such events for you to give to your dead baby friend on such milestones.
Hint: each involves an increasing amount of wine.
I recently got this prompt from a support page that continues to boggle my mind:
How old would your baby be now? What would you be buying them this year you think?
Let me rewrite that a little:
How old should your dead kid be? Let me pour you a drink. But I'm still going to now ask you something to REALLY drag down your grief...what toys is your dead kid never gonna play with this season? Furby? Legos? American Girl? Btw, that's not wine. It's apple juice. Now dish! Hope you're wearing waterproof mascara but we both know you're not.
I know people think about that. Shit, I do. As I was looking at furbys I was like "hell, wonder if Joel would like that creepy shit?" & when I was looking at Blair's catwoman figure I though "shit he wouldn't exist if Joel lived and that figure wouldn't be here."
I'm a dead baby mom. I get it. I know it. I wear it proudly. Almost too proudly one might say if you interacted with me in real life and the topic came up. But I'm tired of just being that and sometimes that's how I feel some people see me. I'm a mom of kids, including a dead one. Quite frankly, if I defined my every moment to being a dead baby mom I'd be insane.
Yes, I think about him. Wonder about him. Miss him. Question what he could have done. How he would have compared. But I can't define everything in my life back to Joel. The truth is, the death of your baby is like an evil black hole. And if you don't fight your way out, you'll be lost forever. And you have someone on this side who needs you to fight.
I've learned at work to look at positive things. Don't write about how little Johnny will decrease the times he punches his teacher. Instead, write about how little Johnny will increase his ability to avoid punching his teacher.
See? Take that sad & turn it...unsad?
How long has it been? How have you improved your healing in that time?
Well, thanks for asking.
It's been 4 1/2 years since Joel died. This is our 5th Christmas without him. I've been sick so I've used that as a distraction, but overall I'm still just surviving. As I've taken on as my motto...thing will work out, because they have to.
That's not failed me yet (knock on some wood for me).
If you're reading this chances are your life has sucked. I'm sorry. You'll be alright though. Because you have to be.
Knock on that wood and pour some wine.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!
Bullshit. Since I got this autoimmune thing that's given me the 'beetus I can't even enjoy lemonade if I had the time and energy to do so. Yeah, that's my big news in the world. But I'm not in the mood for that discussion. Because its May 26th. Otherwise known as the day my world got sad and awkward.
I'm unlike other dead baby moms. I can't take this and turn it into anything good. I can't turn it into charity. Talking about it and telling people they aren't alone is the best I can do. And even then, I doubt I'm a healthy role model.
I want to go kick my sister in laws ass. Why? Because she said I wasn't friendly enough at Joel's funeral. I want to burn down the ultrasound facility that messed up his scans. I hope my midwife dies in a painful manner I can't even imagine for ignoring me when I said something was wrong.
I want to look at a bullshit sky and tree and talk about angels and sunshine and feeling Joel's spirit. But I don't. I feel nothing. He's not here. That's the sad truth. I know the moment he left. I remember a moment when I felt alone. I knew he was dead when I walked into my appointment. I've not felt him since and I doubt I ever will again. I don't see random beauty. Of course, I'm pessimistic and never did before 4 years ago either. It felt like things never worked as planned. Even Joel's life started that way.
You see, back many moons ago the truth is that my eldest son Jules didn't fit the word eldest, seeing that he was a whopping 8 months out of the womb, but I'd just discovered that the whole "pull and pray" method every girl I went to high school with used successfully apparently doesn't work with old married people. After I'd tossed around the idea not adding anymore kids, after marital problems and money problems (read: real life shit), I was knocked up. Again. And I cried. Hysterically. Almost daily fights with my husband over stupid things. Extended family drama. Being a married mom in her early 20's, completely overwhelmed, finding out we were adding to that...well, I was hysterical. Nothing would work out. Life would change forever. How the hell would we...I...cope with this?
Funny thing about all those feelings? They were still true after my baby died, just different. I was hysterical. How would we...I...cope with this? Nothing would work out. Life will never be the same again.
Hi, my name is Jessica Culver and my baby died while I was 9 months pregnant. The baby that at one point I wasn't sure I wanted, who is now the person I long for.
Joel may have cured cancer or AIDS. I would have loved the hell out of him. Joel may have been a drug addict. I would have loved the hell out of him. Joel may have been the valedictorian of his high school. I would have loved the hell out of him. Joel may have dropped out of school and just did odd jobs his whole life under the table. I would have loved the hell out of him.
It'd been nice to know something about him. I bet he would have hated lemonade, too. Or maybe he would have loved it and made it for me daily. I would drink it without a single complaint, even if it meant I needed more insulin. And I would have loved the hell out of that, too.