Thursday, May 24, 2012

Right Where I Am: 6 Months 4 Days

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I have noticed a shift in how I feel over the past few weeks.  Since becoming pregnant a mere two months after our first child's death and stillbirth, numbness has ruled the day.  There were a few brief days of joy and excitement, but they were soon replaced by . . . nothing.  I couldn't cry and my laughter felt cold.  I couldn't grieve my daughter, and couldn't be happily expectant of her growing sibling.

But these past few weeks have been different.  It began with physical changes.  I feel achy, run down.  I am utterly exhausted all the time.  In spite of the exhaustion, I sleep poorly.  I feel ill, but am not ill.  My morning sickness is making a comeback, and I am vomiting more, a rare thing for me in pregnancy.  I have no energy for anything more than cuddling up under some blankets and hoping that the day will be over soon.

And then there is how I look.  This week I moved my desk and computer into our bedroom, and it just so happens that when I sit at the desk I can see myself in a nearby mirror.  One day, while I was blogging away, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror -- and froze, aghast.  I looked old.  Haggard.  There are lines and hollows on my face that didn't used to be there, even though I am dutifully gaining pregnancy weight, and I feel like my eyes are sunken.  I have also been finding new gray hairs.  Even my therapist mentioned that I look different, although she did not say it was due to aging.  But I think that's what it is -- that Eve's death has aged me, is aging me.  That this rainbow pregnancy is diminishing me where Eve's pregnancy made me glow.  I don't know who I am, and I don't recognize that exhausted, aged woman I see when I look in the mirror. 

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The best change I have noticed is in my emotions.  Yes, I am exhausted.  But I am also sad.  I feel sad!  I feel!  I cannot express what joy this is (albeit a somber joy).  For months I have wanted to continue to grieve my daughter, but have been unable to because my emotions shut themselves down.  But now, I can!  I can cry, and I cry often.  It is hard, but it is also good.  I had been so worried previously, because I felt like an automaton.  No more.  I am grateful for this.  But the feelings of fragility, of utter brokenness, that come along with the resurgence of feeling are less comfortable.  I feel that I could shatter at a word.  I wonder if I have not already shattered.

I am also afraid.  Every day takes me closer in this pregnant to the gestation that Eve died at -- 31 weeks.  Only twelve weeks to go now (where has this pregnancy gone?!).  When I think of being at that gestation again, I feel physically sick to my stomach.  I expect that the physical stress I am feeling will only increase until we pass 31 weeks -- and even then, I don't know how I'll survive those last couple of months, when I know how easily, how quickly and silently my second baby could join his sister in Heaven.

19 weeks

In a word, I suppose that I am tired.  Devastatingly tired.  I just want it to be October, to be holding our only living child in my arms (please, God!), to cry with joyful gratitude for his life while simultaneously mourning the life that we never got to share with his sister.

I am so tired.  When can I be done?

Linking up with Right Where I Am over at Still Life With Circles

How are you, right in this moment?

32 comments:

  1. Beth, I totally understand how fragile and broken you feel and applaud your deep courage in sharing with us. Sometimes in sharing we find anchors to our own hearts and healing. I hope that that is true for you...

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  2. Beth I can relate to so much of what you have written. I was thinking back to one year ago at this time, and I was about 21 weeks pregnant. A year later, I feel I have aged a hundred years. I feel old inside, and I see a different face and a few grey hairs. You are inspiring me to blog about this too!
    While I am not pregnant right now, I imagine the rainbow pregnancy to be a whirlwind of emotions, and I totally get your feeling about approaching 31 weeks. I lost Angel at 31 weeks 5 days. I hope you can ride out this pregnancy with as much peace and comfort as possible.

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  3. Beth I feel I know you from your honest writing also! It is so refreshing in a fake world. I hope to read moments of great joy on this blog just like I have the sorrow. I can imagine your current pregnancy would be stressful. I feel stressed about a future pregnancy and I have seen it turn out well. I can not imagine the fear and anguish when all you have experienced is Eve's stillbirth. As far as the looking old goes I know what you mean. I look in the mirror and I am shocked by how much sorrow has aged me, well some of it is insomnia. I think as more Joy returns it will be like a physical makeover as well :) I am glad that you are starting to feel again. I have felt that emotional shut down also. I have gotten really made at myself for being numb because my kids need me. I fight against it but I think it is a normal emotional response. You are doing good sometimes all you can do is hang on with hope. Hope that brighter day will come and they will my friend they will. I am praying for you new little guy. I guess I am not sure if you know your having a boy or you just have a feeling it's a boy. By the way I think you look beautiful! I want to see more tummy shots:) By the way your email is not turned on in your profile. If you turn it on you can get response emails. I have sent you a few that went to cyber space LOL. Saying a prayer for your peace and hope now!

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  4. I feel like I've aged 50 years sometimes. Lots of days I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. You don't look bad to me...though I know you don't feel well. May October come quickly! Praying that as you begin to feel again, your sadness will turn to happiness and that while you will certainly always grieve sweet Eve, you will find joy in the life you live before you are reunited. Much Love! Elizabeth

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  5. Beth, thanks so much for this post - you capture where you are so clearly, and I remember feeling so very old, that first year after Teddy died. Pregnancy after a loss is one of the scariest things anyone can do, I think. I am thinking of you and your Eve and hoping that October comes quickly for you. Sending love.

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  6. Erica is right, pregnancy after loss is really really hard. I've aged too, I'm not terribly young, but I look so much older and sadder now.
    x

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  7. Such a beautiful and honest post... I know what you mean about finding it hard to feel emotion sometimes and the relief when it comes. Thinking of you with all my heart and hoping the weeks pass by quickly and peacefully until your little one is in your arms xoxo

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  8. I have to agree with Erica, you capture this place so perfectly and clearly. It is so hard. The hardest thing I have ever done is my pregnancy after Lucia's death. I related so much when you said you FELT something. I remember that zing of suddenly feeling after numbness for those first weeks/months. It is sometimes hard to revisit that raw grief, but you reminded me how present I was with it all. Thank you for writing this. It is beautifully articulated. Thank you.

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  9. I was in this place last year, pregnant with Charlotte's brother, so anxious I couldn't breathe, desperate to find myself in September holding a living baby. You've captured the emotions of pregnancy after loss so well.

    I feel like I've aged twenty years since she died. I have so much grey hair now due to stress and grief.

    Thank you for sharing.

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  10. I am so sorry for your loss seems like such an inadequate thing to say, but I truly am. I keep saying to my husband, do I look old/terrible and in the nicest non lying way he knows, says 'you look tired honey that's all'. Thank you for sharing it has given me things to think about should we ever get pregnant again.
    Valerie
    xxx

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  11. Oh Beth. You must be so tired, grieving is exhausting, pregnancy is exhausting. And having to deal with these experiences arriving so hard upon the heels of one another, in such a short time frame. My head spins just thinking about it.

    I had nearly three years between the death of my daughter and the arrival of my son so far, far longer to sit with everything and I still found that I had virtually shut down during my subsequent pregnancy. I dreaded the gestation that my daughters were born at, it felt as though everything were building up to a fever pitch of anxiety around that dreaded week of the pregnancy. Such a difficult, difficult time.

    I also felt as though I aged, very rapidly, when my daughter died. From 29 to 49, 59, 69, 109? All in the space of a few days. Physically and mentally. Sometimes, I'm still a little surprised when I look in the mirror, by the wrinkles and the extra weight. On the other hand, sometimes I surprised that I still look so similar. I feel that this experience should have morphed me into some other species.

    Hoping that these coming weeks, as you approach the gestation at which you lost your beautiful little Eve, pass as peacefully and smoothly as they possibly can and hoping that October arrives as fast as ever it can, with happy news.

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  12. You speak to the journey of pregnancy after loss well - it's exhausting and tiring and the grief is just a wicked bite to the end of it all. I have my wrinkles...and wonder how much it all aged me to others. And the weeks leading up to the dreaded 31...I hope you feel wrapped in love and support. Thank you for sharing.

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  13. I remember the exhaustion of being pregnant and being in early (and it is still so early for you) grief. I think I held my breath during my whole pregnancy. Holding hope for you and this little one growing inside you, sorry Eve is not here.

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  15. Can I just tell you what I see when I look at these pictures of you (and those on your flickr)? Well, I think you're incredibly beautiful. You have this look of fully, true and lovely womanhood. I dunno. There's a seriousness, a maturity that does not translate as worn or old, but just sheer beauty and fully woman. You're stunning. Even if you don't feel it, that's what I see and I just wanted to tell you. <3

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  16. I just completed my pregnancy with precious twin boys after the loss of my son Cullen (September 2010). I can completely understand how much fear and trepidation comes into play for you right now. There are no sage words of advice here.. just do your very best to get through each day as best you can. I always longed for a crystal ball with the twins.. obviously it never came, but I can say that today (they are almost 3 weeks old) I am shocked that I'm no longer pregnant with them. Life is so strange in that way..

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  17. I totally understand the emotions you explain throughout this post. The lack of emotion, being "happy" to be able to cry even if it is very often, the fear during pregnancy... I've been through all of that ((hugs)) to you. I pray that you have your rainbow in your arms safely in October. My rainbow is now one month old and while it doesn't take away the grief I feel for his siblings it is a joy I cannot express in words. So very sorry for the loss of Eve. She knows she is loved. You are a wonderful mommy. <3

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  18. Wow, this sums up pregnancy after loss so perfectly. I can't believe I haven't found your blog prior to today. I'm so sorry you lost your precious Eve. She's beautiful.
    Thinking of you as you carry and nurture your rainbow.
    xo

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  19. I did this linkup too, and I so desperately hope that next year - I'll be pregnant again, carrying a child who will live. I'm so sorry you lost your beautiful Eve. I hope that October comes quickly for you, and that your rainbow fills some of your heart with happiness again.

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  20. I cannot begin to imagine the emotions of being pregnant again so soon. That must be something else.

    I have to say, I think you look beautiful. Whatever is etched on your face that you can see, it is your girl and you wear her wonderfully.

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  21. As always, love your writing. One of my favorite blogs :-)

    You may feel old, but you are beautiful, my dear. Truly lovely.

    I am glad that you are feeling again...even if it is sadness. I cannot imagine what hitting the 31-week mark will be like. A mixture of many emotions, I'm sure. For me, it will be full-term. Though, I don't think I'll make it to full-term without already having delivered. (Of course, I am speaking of hypothetical, hoped-for children.)

    Praying for you and sweet baby.

    Much love and hugs,
    Hannah Rose

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  22. Such a beautiful post as always. I feel the ageing you describe is that of becoming a mother. The battlescars of birthing a baby (I too have the lines & grey hairs & have a living son), the only difference being that yours are tinged with such sadness because of your deep loss! To get up and keep going when one feels so broken and faith is shaken is to me, the definition of true beauty Beth x

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  23. Your post really resonated with me. It captured so much of what I felt during my subsequent pregnancies. And your photos moved me. When I compared photos from my pregnancy with C. to those of her sister and brother, there's a wary, haunted look in my eyes. The pure joy had just disappeared, along with the innocence.

    Thinking of you. Sending love. And remembering Eve. ♥ Waiting for October too...

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  24. This is so well put Beth and I can identify with so much of this story. Six months out is rough, and being pregnant doesn't lighten the load (at least not as much as we thought it would). We were three months along when we hit six months and these two realities made life complex to say the least.

    Peace and love to you as you look towards October,

    Josh

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  25. Looking forward to October with you, and remembering your Eve today...

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  26. For just 6 months out, you write with amazing clarity and self-knowledge. I, like others, related to what you said about the relief at feeling sad, when it descended. It just feels more appropriate and wholesome than the numbness, doesn't it.

    And the aging ... oh yes. I feel like a withered old crone! But, for what it's worth - Merry said it perfectly, you look beautiful in those photos.

    Wishing you a very gentle third trimester and living baby at the end.

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  27. I will echo what Merry said: 'you wear her wonderfully.' But, I also know how it feels to feel aged and haggard and worn down. Wishing you as much peace as possible for the duration of your pregnancy, and especially as you move past 31 weeks.

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  28. Oh this is beautiful, achingly so, but beautiful nonetheless. Sending light and love.

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  29. I hear you about the aging thing (even though I think you look great). I didn't have a subsequent pregnancy but I'm sure I wouldn't have glowed during it if I had. I'm sending positive vibes your way as you approach that 31 week mark. Best to you.

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  30. Praying with tears....you are one of the bravest women I "know." I am grateful for your grief and that you are continuing to process. It's best for you, for the Best Husband Ever, for Eve and for the baby. Somehow I believe that because it is honest, it's true. God loves you, Beth. I am praying for the peace you long for in the weeks and months to come and for the strength to hang on to hope.

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  31. I have never seen you before now in this photo.... you don't look old to me. I know I can't judge because I don't know how you looked before this photo.

    Thank you for sharing.

    big hug

    Maria
    xxxxx

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  32. I can't even imagine being pregnant so soon after such tremendous loss. All your feelings are totally understandable. Here's to hoping that October comes quickly, with a wonderful rainbow baby who can bring you joy and healing. Remembering your precious Eve with you. I'm so sorry she's not in your arms.

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"I am glad you are here with me."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King