Friday, August 4, 2017

I'm Sorry I'm a Wreck, It's Just That My 4 Year Old Isn't Here

It's not every day I find myself feeling and acting like this, I promise. It happens more than I'd like to admit, though - at least twice a year. I don't mean two days out of the year, but a week or two in the spring and a week or two in the fall.

I honestly never see it coming, either. You'd think after 4 years I would get a grip. But it hasn't happened yet.

So I'm sorry if I'm difficult to deal with right now. It's just that my 4 year old son isn't here. He was here, at one time, for a very short time - 21 weeks, to be exact. That's all I got with him. And as grateful as I am for that time with him, sometimes it just really gets to me that that's all I got. During that time, I took for granted the fact that he was here. I thought he'd be here longer than I would. I never dreamed I would be here without him.

I'm sorry if I cry or get frustrated at the smallest little thing. It's just that this month I would be planning my son's 4th birthday party if he were still here. It's not something I try and think about, it just happens. It's not something I'm intentionally acting out about, in fact, I don't even realize that's what's going on until I get a moment alone, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. The truth is, I'm still pretty angry that I don't get to see him blow out his candles, or take pictures of him with all of his cousins. Instead, my house is so very, very empty.

I'm sorry if I look a hot mess as I push my cart through the grocery store. I know you're a little uncomfortable as you make eye contact with me, unsure if you should see if I'm alright or just leave me alone. It's just that for some reason, every time I'm alone, these tears just come rushing from my eyes. I can't understand it anymore than you can. I'm not in any trouble, I just can't get my mind off of what could have been. The variety of cakes over there makes me wonder which would have been his favorite. The little girl in the cart beside me reminds me of how much fun this shopping trip could be if I were preparing for a birthday party. And those toys in that other aisle put a picture in my head of what my son might have looked like playing with them - a sight I will never really get to see.

I'm sorry if I say I'm fine, even though you can clearly tell that I'm not. I'm not trying to close myself off from you or make some dramatic scene where I pretend to be stronger than I am. It's just that if I were honest, there would either be this extremely awkward silence and then I would have to pretend that getting that little bit of information off my chest made me feel so much better, or you would share an intense story and some great advice and we'd both end up a blubbering mess - and to be honest, I can't handle either right now.

I'm sorry if I look like some kind of addict as I purchase my go-to vice to help me calm my nerves. I didn't think about grabbing a hair-tie or doing my make up as I left the house, so I literally woke up like this. I know I should learn to handle this pain in a different manor, but sometimes it hurts so bad that I just can't bring myself to do anything but try to numb it as quickly as possible. It's not an every day thing (round of applause), but you're right, it shouldn't be a thing at all.

I'm not really sure if my apology means anything to you. I wouldn't blame you if you just ignored it, and then began to ignore me all together. It's not right, and it's not fair to you or anyone else. It's not fair to me, either, although you may see it differently. Maybe you think you could handle it differently, and maybe you could. Maybe there are a million other women who have been through the exact same thing as me and 4 years later they can go on as if nothing ever happened. Maybe I am all alone in this - God knows I feel like I am. But I don't think so.

Most of the time, I love to talk about my son. Most days, I'd give anything for you to ask me about him. I can smile at his memory, share stories of my pregnancy as if it didn't end with the most tremendous loss of my life, but right now - well right now I'm struggling.

So whether you will forgive me or not, I'm going to forgive myself. Whether you want to talk to me ever again or not, I'm going to move forward, wipe these tears from my face and continue with my day the best that I can.

You may be slightly uncomfortable, but this pain that I'm feeling is agonizing. My stomach has been turning for days. My head hurts so bad from how hard I've cried. I have contacts in but I can't even see straight. I'm exhausted. I haven't done much, but I'm out of breath - any other day I could run a mile (with a couple of breaks in between).

I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I just want to explain myself.

I hope you understand.


The girl with the picture-perfect life who appears to be miserable


Lori said...

I understand your pain and wondering almost your little child had so many firsts. I too lost a son though much older . It has been six years and I coletely understand those days. I wish as mothers we hadn't. Love and a soft hug, Lori

Julie said...

Thankyou for putting into words what so many other women feel. *hug* After 4 miscarriages, I continue to have to give myself grace for those days I can't keep it together. But it helps to know I'm not the only one debating whether to say "I'm fine" or pour my heart out to a mostly-stranger.