Friday, October 7, 2011

A Letter To My Son

This post is the writing prompt or "homework" that I received from the psychologist last Thursday. Of course I put it off until the last day, until about 3am this morning, it is now 6:30am and this is just the first half of the assignment.

My sweet baby Marcus,

I am sad.....

     It makes me sad to think of all nights I spent dreaming of what it would feel like to breastfeed you, to bathe you, or sing to you. It makes me sad that I will never get to do those things with you. It makes me sad to think about how incredibly happy and complete your daddy and I felt our lives were while we were waiting for you. What a strange feeling it is to from such a high to such a deep dark low in just a matter of hours.  It makes me sad to remember the days when I was so happy carrying you inside of me. Your daddy and I would sit in your nursery and talk about the things we were going to do with you as you grew older.  He would lay with me on the couch for hours and watch your little feet and elbows moving around.
     It makes me sad to think of all the times I sang to you and talked to you while you were inside of me. Knowing now that this was the only time you would hear my voice and respond makes me sad.
     When your daddy and I do things that we would not be doing if you were here it makes me sad. I should not be able to go sit through a movie at the theater, I should be at home feeding you every two hours. I should not be able to go and have a glass of wine with a friend or have the time to do my crafts.  I should be busy caring for you.
     It makes me sad when the rare and brief feelings of happiness come over me and I realize that I am feeling happy for a moment.   Basically I feel sad when I realize that I am not sad for a moment if that makes any sense at all.   I guess this overlaps with feeling afraid because I feel afraid that if I feel and look happy again others will forget that I lost you.
It makes me the most sad when I remember holding you and hearing you last little breaths as you died in my arms.

I am afraid...

     I am afraid that I will never have more children. I don't know why I fear this because I am healthy, I had beautiful and perfect pregnancy with you, it only took us one month of trying to conceive you and your daddy and I agreed to try to give you brothers and sisters very soon.  I am afraid that if or when I do get pregnant again it will not be the peaceful, joyous time that it was with you.  I am afraid that instead it will be an anxious and stressful time.  I am afraid that this empty feeling I have in my heart will never go away. I am afraid that I will never feel whole again.

I am angry....

     I am angry that everyone else has their babies. All my friends and acquaintances that were due around the same time as you had successful deliveries.  While I am happy for them, a big part of me is angry that they are getting to enjoy the things that I was cheated out of enjoying with you. I am angry that I did everything I could possibly do to make sure that you were healthy but I still lost you. I wanted you, we planned you, we carefully thought about you before you were ever conceived.
     I am angry that there are people who think you died because we had you at home when I know this is not the case.

I am sorry....

     I am sorry that I could not protect you. I am sorry that our best was not good enough to keep you alive.

I love...

     I love your daddy for being so loving and caring for me so gently in the days after your death.  I love my mother, your Mimi,  for sitting with me into the early hours of morning making sure I feel asleep that first week you were gone. I love her for washing my hair when we got home from the hospital and I could hardly move.  It is so strange, of all the helpful things she did and encouraging words she said those first few weeks that is what I remember most. My mommy washing my hair.
     I love that I have all these beautiful pictures of you. I love the picture of your daddy reaching down to feel your head as you were being born, the look on his face is priceless.  Although physically painful I love remembering the amazing feeling I had as you were making your entrance into this world. I felt so powerful doing it on my own without any drugs. I have never felt such an overwhelming feeling of love.  I love the few hours that we had with you. I love that I was able to sing you a lullaby before you left us.

I wish....

     Wow, my wishes could go on forever. I wish things were different. I wish that I could hold you in my arms and sing to you again.  I wish that I could tell you that on the 4th of July, the eve of your birth, that you hated the fireworks. They were so loud, you were kicking so hard and I thought how funny it will be to tell you this every fourth of July.
I wish I had more memories of you.
I wish that I could have seen your eyes. Just once to see them open, to see how blue they would have been.
I wish that I could have seen you smile, roll over, crawl, heard you cry or laugh, felt your fingers grasp mine.
I wish that I could fast forward through this time, through this grief. I wish I did not have to find things to distract myself with just to make it through the day.  I wish that my eyes were stinging from being up all night with you instead of from being up all night crying because I am without you.

Thank you...

Thank you for the 40 weeks I got to spend with you while you were inside of me. Thank you for showing me how precious and fragile life is, because of you I will never take a single moment with the people I love for granted.

I have learned...

I have learned that without a doubt I chose the best man to be my husband and your daddy.  I have learned that our relationship is stronger than I could have ever imagined.  I have seen how generous and thoughtful my family and friends could be.  How fortunate I am to have friends that do not shy away from me and allow me to talk about these sad things. I am slowly beginning to see that I am stronger and more optimistic than I thought I was.

I want for myself...

     One day I want to be able to look at your beautiful face in these pictures and not feel like I am in a deep dark pit. I want to look at your beautiful face and remember you with happiness.  I want to be able to think about the days you were alive inside of me and remember them with a smile instead of this intense sadness. I want to give you lots of brothers and sisters and I want to tell them everything about you. I want to experience all the mothering things that I have missed out on with you. I want to be able to let go of the constant thoughts of what I SHOULD be doing right now and try to focus on what I am doing. I want to be able to look into the future with the hope and happiness that we had before we lost you. 

1 comment:

  1. This is exactly right. I am nearly 2 months out from when we said goodbye to our little girl. This is exactly how I feel. Thank you.