There are times where I kind of pause and realize, “hey! I am doing ok today!” Usually it is after going several hours or maybe even a day without thinking about the zombryo or tartan pregnancies. I am good when it is not in the front of my mind.
Things get hard when I am doing ok and then remember. There is a weird sort of hang nail pain about remembering. I was oddly cranky this weekend – just feeling snarky and disconnected and every small thing irritated me. It later hit me. Oh. Right. If the zombryo wasn’t, well, a zombryo, I would be giving birth this month.
That is weird. When I remember that I then start to muse on all of the things from 2012 that would have been different in order to prepare. To plan. To welcome.
When I hear news about celebrity pregnancies or royal pregnancies I feel peculiar. I feel like I forgot my keys.
When I was in New York I had an acting teacher that had lost a leg to complications from diabetes. One day he paused in the middle of a lecture and got this pained and disjointed look on his face. He went to a far off place, for just a moment, and then his eyes were in the present. But they were sad. He took a breath and then explained that his leg itched. His leg that was no longer a part of him. It itched. He felt the sensation and he had to squelch the impulsive movement to reach down and scratch.
They call this phantom pain.
How fitting that the zombryo haunts me with phantom feelings. That’s the only way I can describe the emotional tug of missing. I am missing something that was once a part of me. Two somethings. They are both gone. To continue a prolonged sadness is not progressive. And what is the point to just be this hovercraft of sorrow not really landing in the real world. The world in which I am no longer pregnant, but also the world where I AM a Mother.
Lately some of the hardest moments are the ones in which W pines for a buddy. Of course in my mind I make the leap that, “oh if only he had a sibling he would have a buddy!” This is, of course, absurd because a sibling certainly does not equal a friendship. So really his buddy longing is just me attaching my own story to his declarations. Of COURSE he wants a buddy to play blocks with, who wouldn’t!? But my reaction to him is just proof that I have misplaced sorrow just wafting about.
Time, time, time. Yes. I know this depression in spurts will only truly be easier with time. I do wonder if I will only truly be able to let go and move on after the due dates have passed.
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
I know that for me, I wasn’t able to move on until after my intended due dates had past. I don’t know why they are so powerful, but they definitely held me captive. I’m thinking of you.
Oh babe, I wish I were there to fix you a peppermint latte and hug you, telling you everything is going to okay. The moments will come and go, but the pain will always be palpable.
I am so sorry, Dresden. I really don’t know what to say, but know that I’m thinking about you and sending you cyber hugs.
Beautifully said, and I’m so sorry. I know exactly what you mean.
Thinking of you and W. Hope your days get easier.
There’s no official “time clock” on mourning, grief, and longing. It is what it is.
{{{hugs}}}
Being a Mom of one, and never giving D a sibling has been very difficult for me. It’s why I still have trouble returning to blogging, because it does feel like I can’t shake the shadows of all the what-ifs and bad pregnancies… for me it’s like someone placed a boulder between me and the world. I am slowly chipping it away, but it takes time I guess.
Now that’s surely not going to make you feel any better, but, it always helps to know that you are not alone. I am sorry for your pain, and how I wish I could zap it away for you. You and W are in my thoughts. I get you.
Phantom pain sucks.
Hugs to you my friend. Lighter days will come… Eventually.
The passing of due dates may make the phantom pain less frequent, but it won’t fully resolve them.
W will want a sibling eventually, and that will be a different kind of pain. You’ve got a couple years before he gets fairly insistent about it, so I hope you have the opportunity to try again before he starts on that (if that’s what you want to do).
Sending you Love & Light, my friend. xo
Love you.
Xo
Thinking of you and sending hugs.
Hi Dresden,
I lost a child in a different way. She was 11. I felt as if my leg had been cut off and I was bleeding to death. So much pain!
Since that time much has changed in my life. I literally can work to relieve phantom pain simply through energy work, and also I help people change the pain and trauma of their lives into joy and well being.
It would be great to talk with you. You can check out my website.
Compassionate greetings, Leslie
I googled phantom pain and here you are. My body is (amazingly) reliving being induced two years ago today. Full term. Our seemingly healthy son lived outside of me for 3 hours which I now accept was the happiest I’ll ever be again. Although it is what it is, I am so sorry for your loss x