Thank you. For telling me I could rely on you. But I couldn’t.
Thank you. For earnestly telling me to call you any time, day or night with any problem. But when I did, it wasn’t okay.
You pretended that you understood what giving birth to a dead baby was like. You had no idea.
If you did understand...
You wouldn’t have told me my anxiety in my subsequent pregnancy was abnormal. It wasn’t abnormal. What IS normal when your baby is dead and you carry a new one? Your body and world are filled with fear and grief. And a smidgen of hope. Just a smidgen.
If you did understand...
You would have smiled more. In a nice way. Not the smile you did as you joked about what a pain I was.
If you did understand...
You would have known when I had given birth to Archie. You never even checked.
If you did understand...
You wouldn’t have told me that other babylost mothers didn’t act like me.
You would have seen I was struggling and taken it seriously.
She was my baby. I knew her from the inside. She died. Her birth and death damaged me in a way that will never heal.
You have five children and never, thankfully, had to have a funeral for any of them. Lucky you.
You don’t understand.
Timely post. There are three or four ex friends I could send this to right now. One in particular who has hurt me deeply in the last week or so. Because you know at almost three years, surely I should be better at this grief crap by now, or even over it all together. I'm so over those who said they'd always be there, when always really only ever meant "for as long as I can put up with you".
ReplyDeleteSorry you're going through this shit as well. People suck. Even if they mean well.
Oh ugh Steph. Sally said it about right.
ReplyDeleteSending love and understanding. xx