Honest thoughts

I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to type here. I just know that I've been itching to express myself for the past few days. I've had that urge to get things off my chest, to just pour out my thoughts and feelings. It's been a long time since I've really done that. I guess I just haven't known where to start. It seems like blog posts are supposed to be eloquent and organized, with a well-thought title perfectly summing it up as one specific point to meditate on. I don't think this is one of those posts. I have so many thoughts. So many feelings. Maybe I won't even publish this. Maybe I'll erase everything and start again. I don't know. We'll see...

I reflect on my life a lot. I've always been a nostalgic person and I've always been overly sentimental so I think these qualities exacerbate my situation sometimes. In a little over a month, it will be two years since Avery died. I can't believe that it's been that long. How did that much time pass since I held my baby girl? It sounds like such a long time to the outsider, but to the griever, it's  just a few moments. Because all it takes is a single thought to bring back those days. They never feel distant or in the past. You never recover from what the devastating blow has done to your life. It has changed everything. Everything about me is changed. My outlook is skewed. What offends me is much different. I'm more sensitive to a lot of things. How I perceive others and react to normal situations is different. But at the same time, I still appear the same. All of these changes are internal. They are plaguing thoughts that gnaw at me daily. It's so exhausting sometimes. All of the time.

I can't believe Jude is six months old already. I am so grateful that he's growing and thriving, given his rocky start. He's amazing. His doctor is always impressed by him. But I spend a lot of time feeling like I'm trying to hold onto these fleeting moments. I know how fast they're already going. I'm savoring them like crazy because I know once they're gone, that's it. I don't get to experience these things ever again with anyone else. In a way, I almost mourn the stages Jude grows out of. I already miss his little preemie self. How tiny and delicate he was. So sweet and precious. I miss his skinny little hands and feet and how small his clothes were. I miss those outfits. I hate how there's so much reluctance in everything. I fear how much it will hurt when I look back at these days and miss my baby boy so much. When he's running around and talking and won't even let me cuddle him for more than a second.

Once these days are over, I'll never have them back. Not another chance with another baby. I think about this all the time. I wish I didn't. I wish I could just put it out of my mind and enjoy without these thoughts. I want to forget that this is my reality and just live as if it isn't. I don't want to take anything for granted. But I don't want to mar what I do have with the things I won't have. I don't know how to do that yet though. I'm still not over it. I'm still not okay with any of it. I still have not made peace with it. The moment I feel like I have, I am faced with yet another pregnancy announcement and yes, the jealousy clouds in and erases my supposed progress once again.

I'm being honest, I feel jealous a lot. Not in a hateful or spiteful way. But just in a self-pitying way. I do not want these other women to be like me to keep me from feeling like this. I want to be like them. I don't want other women to not get pregnant or not have healthy babies. I don't ever want to see anyone go through what I have. My jealousy is just me hating what I have been dealt and wishing I could be like everyone else around me. And yes, it's brought on by seeing other people so easily and sometimes accidentally having second, third, and fourth pregnancies. Because I can't fathom how people can make it through a pregnancy without any issues. I can't imagine what that must be like. I can't imagine a pregnancy reaching the 40th week and no one has died or been hospitalized or medicated to get them there. To naturally go into labor to deliver a living child. To hold that screaming, breathing miracle on your chest right after birth. I have missed all of that. To me, that is like a fantasy. Why couldn't it have been typical for me? I hate when people take it for granted. That makes it even harder to be me.

I always worry that I will offend people when I share how I feel. I shouldn't have to feel that way. I'm sure not everyone worries if they'll offend me when they make negative comments about babies or pregnancy, when that is a very very sacred subject to me. Regardless, I never want to offend anyone. I think women should have babies if they are blessed enough to be able to do so. I'm not anti-pregnancy. I do not want to be left in the dark because people are afraid of me. Oh, don't tell Nicole about that. She'll freak out. You'll upset her. No. If someone omits me from their pregnancy announcement because they don't want to hurt my feelings, then that would just make it worse. I know I said it makes me sad, but that is just my cross to bear for the rest of my life. It's not against the pregnant person. It's just me once again reflecting on myself and not being okay with what I've lost.

It just so happens that the most common thing that people do with their lives... creating life itself... is the one thing that I have lost the ability to do. And it's everywhere. It's widespread and popular. It's what's "normal" and it's just what people do. I wish it was something much less common that I couldn't do. Like scuba dive. How often does that come up? Surely, I'd feel much less left out if that was what I was no longer able to take part in. I really hate being so different and so left out. I hate having a dead baby. I hate that I cannot have more children without the risk of death. I hate that Jude couldn't even get here normally. I was denied so much even with him. He barely made it here alive. It is a miracle that he is so healthy with no setbacks. Truly.

I'm not overlooking the blessing of Jude. I'm not "looking the gift horse in the mouth." I think that's a huge reason why I haven't blogged lately. I bet to some I appear ungrateful for Jude because I still want more babies and I still let the loss of Avery affect me. That's really not it though. Jude is enough. He really is. Zero living babies would not be enough. Jude makes me happy. I love him. He fills such a huge void in my life. He fulfills a dream. But there was another dream I grew up with. The dream of many children. Siblings. I wanted us to be able to decide how many we had. And I wanted to be able to enjoy the process, not fear it. I think it was just a huge blow and so disappointing that the agony didn't end with losing Avery. I really wanted Jude to be our rainbow after the storm. The start of true happiness. I really thought I'd met my devastation quota for life with having my own baby die inside of me, then having to deliver her. I still feel angry when I think about how that wasn't all I've had to endure. How it wasn't enough for me to have to bear. That there would be more to suffer through. More things to break me and tear my world and my life apart and nearly literally kill me.

For those that know me, please bear with me during these times. I know that my feelings may seem unfair or mean or negative to those who have not walked in my shoes. The things that have happened have left me with a lot of pain and a lot of emotions to work through. It is not easy. I'm trying to find some sort of semblance of normalcy now. Trying to feel like I'm in control of my own life. Trying not to live in fear of what may be next or living in mourning of what was and could have been. It will take some time to be okay with it all, but I want to get there. I don't want Jude to have a sad mom. He deserves the very best.

I pray that this is just another set of stages that I am going through. That I won't always feel so angry about my life. Angry at God. Blaming Him for all of this when I know it's not His fault. Hating myself because it's my body that's caused all of this. I'm praying I come to terms. That I accept it all without relapse. I don't want to be sad anymore. I don't want these sacred days with my precious boy to be ridden with sadness. I don't want to fight to be happy. I just want to be happy. I don't want to feel so alienated and different. I don't want to compare my life to everyone else's and feel so deprived. I want to feel blessed and not just know that I am.