For some reason, my grief has returned with a vengeance.
This post will most probably be some non-sensical rambling because I dont actually have a topic in mind, I just feel melancholic. Why even bother being mature and using big words about it?
I feel crap.
I am starting to come to terms with the fact that Sybella died 29 weeks ago, and I am weeks 24 pregnant.
My goodness, I am so in love with this baby. I feel so so lucky that on top of everything else, I didnt have to spend 18 months trying to get pregnant (like I did with Bella) and that it just happened. One small mercy. A big surprise, but a lovely surprise.
However, somehow, I feel like my main grieving time was "interrupted." I couldnt focus on processing my feelings properly, because I had another (happier) focus. I never put Sybella aside, or forgot her in light of my new pregnancy, but I was physically unable to concentrate on grieving...mostly because I had my head down the toilet. And was majorly preoccupied with anxiety and fear.
This pregnancy wasnt even confirmed until I was 7 weeks. Experiencing implantation bleeding led to an ultrasound, where I was told that the embryo was non-viable, my sac was misshapen and to expect to miscarry in a week. I was 7 weeks before my proper obstetrician quashed that scenario and threw me a jar of Blackmores Pregnancy Gold.
Anyway, as a result, it is only now that my grief is resurfacing, when I stop and realise that I am a mother with a dead child. It was always my greatest fear, for a child of mine to die. And it happened. It happened to ME. I think it is Hope's Mama says her grief makes her feel "dirty" and "tainted." My God, I get that. I feel forever stained, that my baby passed away and I will never escape that stamp. Forever and ever, I am someone with a dead child. That concept is completely surreal to me. How can it be? I will never rid myself of the pain, I will never able to rid Kelvin of his pain. I look at that man, mowing the lawn, tying his tie and think "his daughter died." He aches, I know it. I think of our life as a couple, dating, buying our first house, getting married, going on holidays. Back then, this life now seems unbelievable. Two young adults, getting drunk on a Saturday night, a lifetime ago before children, mortgages and the like...who were those two? Those two (shinier, thinner, more attractive) people, who, in a few years time, are going to share the worst possible experience of grief that a couple can share?
It's the same with Jack. When I was 4, the worst thing that happened to me is that I burnt my hand on the iron. Jack is 4 and has already experienced the death of a sibling. He has a sister who isnt alive. That breaks my heart. He is only a baby himself and has experienced grief that he doesnt even understand. It's so damn unfair.