I am tired of pretending that I haven't been seething mad at someone. I know that most of my anger is illogical, but I haven't been able to let go of it.
There is one person that I always counted on for advice. If I had a question about the girls there was one person I always called. Sometimes I think this person didn't take me seriously, and would act as though my worries were insignificant. But I always brushed those feelings off.
I went to this person several times with my worries about Izzy's umbilical cord, and the answer was the same. "Every baby is different. It's nothing to get worked up about. Mention it to the Dr. if you feel uncomfortable." Wednesday May 12 when it was bleeding more than it had any other day and I couldn't get it to stop, I felt patronized for wanting to take her to the Dr.
HAD I TAKEN HER TO THE DOCTOR AND BEEN MORE FORCEFUL AND ADAMANT ABOUT MY GUT INSTINCT, IZZY COULD BE ALIVE AND SLEEPING IN HER CRIB IN MY HOUSE TODAY.
I will never get over my incompetence as a mother for not listening to my instinct. I have read countless articles about mother's acting as advocates for their children and saving their lives when Dr's wouldn't listen. I was a doormat and let myself be patronized into meekly going about my regularly scheduled programming.
I can't let it go. So I have cut this person out of the more personal aspects of my life. I can talk to them about the girls or the weather, but nothing more personal than that.
There is no good way to tell them why I can't talk to them. I'll just end up hurting their feelings. I have played out the conversation in my head, and I don't feel bad when I hurt their feelings. I was surprised, but I didn't feel bad at all. Maybe I want them to feel as bad as I do.
I think someday it will fade and I'll get past my fury, but I don't see it happening anytime soon. I spoke to them on the phone and they had the nerve to compare their pain to mine. It can't possibly compare. I have no doubt that they are grieving, and they have their own pain. But don't tell me that your pain is even on the same scale of measurement as mine or Duffy's. That's an insult to me. I get to be selfish right now. I have myself and my husband and my 2 children to worry about and get through this. I cannot spare any energy for managing someone else's grief. I'm sorry, I am so sorry for your loss. Excuse me while I manage the fact that I LOST MY INFANT DAUGHTER. That the very first time I had to introduce death into the lives of my 6 and 7 year old children's lives was to tell them that their baby sister, whom they named, was dead. I got to watch them fall apart. I got to fall asleep holding them that night while we all cried. I held their hands at the funeral while we stared at an impossibly small white casket covered with flowers that I ordered. I had to heal from an episiotomy. I had to wait for 2 weeks for my milk to dry up since the baby girl I planned to nurse wasn't there anymore to nurse.
Maybe I was wrong before and now I'm in the angry stage. Maybe grief doesn't come in easy compartmentalized sections. Maybe I get to experience different stages at the same time, or, lucky me, several different times. I don't know. I just have to assume that at some point I'll be ready to move past this.
This might be one time when mind-dumping into the computer doesn't really make me feel better.
There is one person that I always counted on for advice. If I had a question about the girls there was one person I always called. Sometimes I think this person didn't take me seriously, and would act as though my worries were insignificant. But I always brushed those feelings off.
I went to this person several times with my worries about Izzy's umbilical cord, and the answer was the same. "Every baby is different. It's nothing to get worked up about. Mention it to the Dr. if you feel uncomfortable." Wednesday May 12 when it was bleeding more than it had any other day and I couldn't get it to stop, I felt patronized for wanting to take her to the Dr.
HAD I TAKEN HER TO THE DOCTOR AND BEEN MORE FORCEFUL AND ADAMANT ABOUT MY GUT INSTINCT, IZZY COULD BE ALIVE AND SLEEPING IN HER CRIB IN MY HOUSE TODAY.
I will never get over my incompetence as a mother for not listening to my instinct. I have read countless articles about mother's acting as advocates for their children and saving their lives when Dr's wouldn't listen. I was a doormat and let myself be patronized into meekly going about my regularly scheduled programming.
I can't let it go. So I have cut this person out of the more personal aspects of my life. I can talk to them about the girls or the weather, but nothing more personal than that.
There is no good way to tell them why I can't talk to them. I'll just end up hurting their feelings. I have played out the conversation in my head, and I don't feel bad when I hurt their feelings. I was surprised, but I didn't feel bad at all. Maybe I want them to feel as bad as I do.
I think someday it will fade and I'll get past my fury, but I don't see it happening anytime soon. I spoke to them on the phone and they had the nerve to compare their pain to mine. It can't possibly compare. I have no doubt that they are grieving, and they have their own pain. But don't tell me that your pain is even on the same scale of measurement as mine or Duffy's. That's an insult to me. I get to be selfish right now. I have myself and my husband and my 2 children to worry about and get through this. I cannot spare any energy for managing someone else's grief. I'm sorry, I am so sorry for your loss. Excuse me while I manage the fact that I LOST MY INFANT DAUGHTER. That the very first time I had to introduce death into the lives of my 6 and 7 year old children's lives was to tell them that their baby sister, whom they named, was dead. I got to watch them fall apart. I got to fall asleep holding them that night while we all cried. I held their hands at the funeral while we stared at an impossibly small white casket covered with flowers that I ordered. I had to heal from an episiotomy. I had to wait for 2 weeks for my milk to dry up since the baby girl I planned to nurse wasn't there anymore to nurse.
Maybe I was wrong before and now I'm in the angry stage. Maybe grief doesn't come in easy compartmentalized sections. Maybe I get to experience different stages at the same time, or, lucky me, several different times. I don't know. I just have to assume that at some point I'll be ready to move past this.
This might be one time when mind-dumping into the computer doesn't really make me feel better.
Hugs to you today.
ReplyDeleteErica