I was just reading Brooke's Blog and she posted this. And my comment was too long to publish.
It was big. It was heavy. And its time I let the hurt out.
I'm so glad you wrote this. I've had a feeling.. a heavy shaken feeling ever since talking with Laura the day before yesterday.
And here it is. I talked with her about what happened to me that day on Feb 27th... in the wee hours of the morning how we went to the hospital at 1am because I didn't feel the baby move... and then they told me that there was no heartbeat. The ultrasound came in, and I saw his still silhouette. I said the words ".. and that's when I started screaming and howling, 'what happened??' and Daniel dove on to my chest and told me it was going to be ok".
I remembered again how it felt in that exact moment to be alive and know that my baby just died. I told her about walking down the hallway to the private room and feeling like I was going to burn the hospital down. I told her how it felt to see Daniel not know he was REALLY dead until they closed the door to that private room to "give us some time".
I haven't vividly remembered those feelings in a while. I'm so thankful to have had that visit with Laura, and to finally talk to another mother who understands my pain... and to share in the common reality that our first born children are dead. But I didn't know that reliving those moments would leave me a little shell shocked and shaken thereafter.
And I worry that I felt the impression that I am an angry BLM. Cold and callus. As the decision to see and hold my dead baby was too much for me. I didn't know what in the world these people were asking me to do. I thought everyone around me had lost their mind asking me if I wanted to spend time with him - after we was already dead. I was already so beside myself. The nurses tried to facilitate a manageable space for me to come to after my baby was dead... but there was no reaching me. All that you said about leading up to that moment, for 9 months, appointment after appointment... scan after scan... due date passed and more appointments thereafter... and all of a sudden, OUT OF NO WHERE, he's dead. I didn't ever know that that could be a reality of what having a baby was like. So, I didn't really feel like that's ACTUALLY what was happening. I felt it was just a torturous ordeal. I didn't know someone could get so fucked over. But I was. And all that pregnancy stuff, well, I felt it was all for nothing. And I too felt so unbelievably duped and embarrassed. Hugely pregnant... hours ago filled with life and plans... and now, well now he's dead and you have to go through the cruelest task possible and labor and deliver him... dead. He's dead. Remember that. But do it all anyway. Can you do that for us? We need you to push, bear down, ok, breathe... that's it. You're doing great... but he's dead. But just stay with us now, you're doing so great...
I felt like I was in hell for that day. And I wanted to get out of there so fast. I wanted nothing out of this anymore. I didn't feel ANYTHING beautiful was going on. And it was only until I got home, and felt the physical pain of him not being with me did I realize what a beautiful thing it was to have him. Ever. In any form. He is nothing but beautiful. And with him being dead, travelling down the birth canal, and out into this cold world... I didn't see that at the time. And I couldn't spend that time with him and hold him as I wish I had. I watched the nurse carry him away, seconds after he left my body, and that was it. And it's the biggest regret I'll ever have.
I told Laura that I would do it all again, have him die, and deliver him all over again just to hold him. Just to touch his skin, and kiss his lips.
I'm crying now. I'm thankful Theo is stretching his morning nap and letting me bawl my eyes out... because I needed this. I'm crying now and reliving the shell shock of it all.
What happened to me that day was traumatic. I didn't rise to the occasion to have my dead baby the right way. I beat myself up all the time. I shake my head at my performance at being a mother. I forget about the 9 months of tender love and closeness I felt with this babe growing. He was so adorable even though I'd never laid eyes on him. And the trauma of that day, and that event stole that reality from me. I long for him still. I miss him unbearably. My arms still ache for him. Even with Theo here, my arms ache for the child I never held.
And I am again beside myself in disbelief.