Sadness is an Ever-Present State

Leo,

Every time I feel I'm doing a little better, I fall back into the abyss.

Many things happened today that made me angry, sad, hurt. But I think that what is hurting me the most is knowing that at exactly this time, 4 weeks ago, I was in the emergency room, not knowing what was going on. Not knowing what was going to happen to you.

Four weeks ago. So much has changed since that day.

I went to work today, but I probably shouldn't have. I am constantly surprised at how painful grieving can be. I never know when sadness will take over. I'm never prepared for it. Today, at around 2pm, I couldn't stay at my desk anymore. I grabbed my jacket and walked out. I took a walk on a trail nearby. It's a beautiful day today. It's a little crisp outside, but the sky is blue, the sun is shinning. Tears were coming down my face as I walked. I needed to find a little private space where I could just let it all out.

I found a bench near the water and sat there. The sun was shinning on my face, it felt wonderful. It felt like a warm hug. I just sat there, Leo, and wept. Every time I was ready to get up and leave, I felt another wave of tears surface. I sat there for about 30 minutes. I don't think I was thinking of anything in particular. You don't need to think to be sad. Sadness is an ever-present state. It's just there. You can bury it, hide it, ignore it...but it will find its way out and you just need to acknowledge it. That's what I did today. I sat on that bench in the park and dealt with the sorrow, the pain, the loss. I sat on the bench and cried my heart out.

Broken World

Dear Leo,

I sometime feel like I'm a spectator to life. The world continues to go on. People around me are living their lives, smiling, laughing, enjoying it. My world is different though. My world is bleeding, crying and trying to survive. My world is gasping for air, feeling weak at the knees, trying to hold it together. 

People around me know that my world has collapsed. They know that it's trying to rebuild itself. But no one cares. At first, a few people asked me how I was. Not everyone...no, not everyone. People are afraid to say something, to talk to me...as if what I have is contagious. Or perhaps they are afraid to upset me or afraid to see me crying in front of them. They would be uncomfortable if that were to happen. They don't want to feel uncomfortable. Well, who the heck cares if they are uncomfortable? Uncomfortable is nothing compared to what I'm going through. NOTHING! 

Well, it's almost been 4 weeks since my world fell apart...but to the others, I should probably be over it already. Few people ask me how I am now. At first, you get a lot of support and then, nothing. Do they really think that it's that easy? Do they think I can just snap out of this? Don't they know that this is not like having the flu...I can't just recuperate, heal, pretend it never happened. No! This is real, this is deep, this in inconsolable. 

I do put on a strong face though. I pretend to be part of their world, so that I can feel like I belong....so that they are not uncomfortable. But often, I retrieve to my little broken world. It's a painful place, but it's comforting and it's my world. I can be my true self there; I can fall, I can cry, I can be angry. No one there tells me to be strong, no one tells me that things will be ok. Because the reality is, things will never be ok. A world without you Leo, will never be ok. 

Drowning

My dear little angel,

Yesterday was a tough day for both your dad and I. When I woke up, I had a vague recollection that your dad had been crying, but I wasn't sure if it had really happened of if it had been a dream. I later found out that he was crying in bed. He had seen a picture of me while I was still pregnant and then he had spent some time looking at pictures of you. He just lay there crying. He told me that I woke up and said "cry as much as you need." But I don't remember that. I wish I had stayed up and comforted him. We need each other in moments like these.

On the bus to work, I typically read a book about bereavement or I browse through a few online support groups. Yesterday, someone posted a beautiful article that was published on Still Standing Magazine.  Sometimes, you don't really know what you're feeling until you read about someone else's anguish and pain.  I was trying to control my tears a little on the bus, but couldn't. The strange thing is that, there I was, in a bus that is completely packed, crying, and no one noticed me. No one noticed it! No one knows that I had a you, my darling baby boy, and then lost you! It's such a lonely world out here.

I got off the bus and it was cold and misty...just like me. I love it when Mother Nature agrees with me. I feel like maybe she understands and is feeling the same way.  I was just walking to work, in the rain, lots of cars passing by, but I was the only pedestrian around. I don't quite know what happened at that moment, but I just started to sob uncontrollably. I pondered whether I should stop, sit on the sidewalk and just let it all out. But I didn't. I kept walking and sobbing and couldn't stop.

Some days, things are going really well. I can think of you and smile. I can remember holding you in my arms and find comfort in that memory. But then, there are days when things are just so tough. It feels like being in the

ocean...at one moment, the water is calm and you're having a grand time swimming around. And then, a wave hits you and you're drowning, gasping for air. It's painful, frightening and you feel like you're dying. And then you're faced with a choice: do I give in and let myself be swallowed by the ocean or do I try to fight these insurmountable waves and swim back to shore?

Yesterday, I was able to swim back.

Three weeks later...

My dearest son Leo,

Yesterday marked 3 weeks since you were born. Your existence in this world, as ephemeral as it was, left an everlasting mark on my life. I don't think anything in my life has ever been so wonderful, so powerful and so difficult as your birth and death.

Yesterday, while I was at work, I texted a friend of mine and told her about you. Her reply was "that's fucked up!" I think that's the best reply I've gotten so far. It is fucked up! That is exactly what it is!!! For some reason, I have a harder time writing about it than talking about it. So, I started to tear up and ran to the restroom. The last thing I want is to cry in front of my coworkers and be seen as the 'sensitive girl'. I was surprised at how fast the tears came and how hard I cried in the restroom stall. It felt good to let it all out. I then wiped my tears, looked at myself in the mirror, and went back to work.

I got a call from a friend earlier this week. We haven't seen each other in years, because we live so far apart, but we keep in touch. Last week, she emailed me asking how my pregnancy was going and I told her what happened. I often find that, when telling others what happened or when telling them about you, I need to be the strong one. I know people ask about you because they want to be nice. They call to see how I am and I know that's a little uncomfortable for them. So I feel that I need to be strong so that they're less uncomfortable.

This is the little hat you were
wearingat the hospital

Yesterday, I started thinking about joining a support group for parents who have lost a baby through miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. The thought of talking to strangers makes me a little nervous, but at the same time, I think it will be easier to talk to strangers. Plus, maybe it will be good to hear other people's stories and share mine with people who truly understand what I'm going through. I know that most of my colleagues, friends and family think that I'm over it already. Sometimes, I too think I'm over it, but then sadness and pain hits me like a truck - such a heavy load.

Last night, I was in bed, reading my bereavement book and I felt so sad. I took the little hat you were wearing at the hospital and fell asleep with it, clenched between my fingers....but eventually, that too slipped away from me.

Ashes and Tears

Dear Leo,

A few days after your passing away, I bought myself a pendant that is also an urn. It's a heart-shaped silver pendant with your name engraved on the back. I purchased that because I always want to carry you near my heart. I know it's just a symbol and that, with or without the pendant, you are always in my heart. But the thought of carrying your ashes with me, wherever I go, brings me comfort.

A few days later though, your dad and I thought it would be a good idea to spread your ashes at the Hindu temple in Kauai. We're going there during Thanksgiving. You were supposed to go with us, while in my belly...instead, we're taking your ashes with us, in a little box. I am ok with spreading your ashes there. I know it's a beautiful place. Plus, this temple means a lot to your dad. I do want to keep just a little of you with me. Although your father thinks it's best to let go, he is ok with me putting some of your ashes in the pendant and spreading the rest. I'm wearing the pendant today (the ashes are not in yet). I know it's a little silly, but I love wearing it. I keep touching it and thinking of you. It's like the little hat you wore at the hospital. I have that by my bedside and I bring it to my cheek everyday. I know it makes no sense, but it makes me feel good and a little closer to you.

This past weekend, I had the courage to open the box in which your ashes are stored. We've had it with us for 7 days and I still hadn't touched it. The box is a little big, but inside it, there's a smaller plastic box. I saw the plastic box and thought "wow, your ashes only fill this much?". But I was wrong...inside the box, there's a little plastic bag and in the bag are your ashes. There's really not much. Maybe just a handful of it. That is all that remains of you.

This weekend  I spent some time looking at the pictures and videos that your dad took of you. Looking at your pictures doesn't make me cry anymore; in fact I love looking at them. While you were still alive, you had your mouth wide opened, and your fingers near your mouth. This past week, I regretted not telling you that I love you while you were still with us. I told you later, when you had passed...I know how important it is for a newborn to hear his mother's voice, and I didn't even talk to you. I just caressed you and looked at you...but I didn't say a word to you, I didn't say I love you, I didn't say your name. I hope that you know that I love you though, even though I never said it.

I'm still reading the book Empty Cradle, Broken Heart and it's making me feel better. I do feel like crying while reading the stories of other parents, other mothers. But it brings me a strange sense of relief to know to read that others are or were feeling the same way as I am. I typically read on the bus and I enjoy those minutes alone; just me and the book. Last Friday, on my commute to work, I was reading the book and had tears in my eyes. When I reached my office, I had to stop at the entrance and take a moment to cry. It feels good to let the tears come down.

I wish I was allowed to exercise. All I want to do is go on a run, run really fast, push really hard and make my body ache. I'd rather feel the physical pain than the emotional one.

I love you, always.

If I were you....

Dear Leo,

Yesterday, your dad and I had dinner with some good friends. They helped a lot, providing your dad with a lot of information, when we were in the hospital.

The guy (our friends are a couple) talked mostly to your dad, but the lady, talked to me a lot. She asked details about what happened, about how I felt, about my bump when you were still in me. I really enjoyed talking so much about you. When your dad started listening in and the 4 of us were talking about you, he started to cry. I don't think your father has taken time to process everything yet. I have cried a lot when I was off from work, but your dad hasn't had a chance to really take time off. He's working  a little less, but he is still working. I'm worried about him, but I'm glad that he doesn't bottle it up and that he is able to cry. Although, it does hurt me to see him suffering. During those times, I hate that my body didn't work as it was supposed to. I hate that I'm the reason  your dad is suffering. If I was like every other woman and had a normal cervix, this would have never happened. Gosh, I never knew I could be so mad at my cervix...a part of me I never even thought about before your birth.

Our friend told me that if she were me, she wouldn't be able to go out for dinner after 3 weeks. Other people have told me that I was strong for going back to work, because they wouldn't be able to do that. Others have said similar things, comparing my ability to return to normalcy to their perceived ability to do the same. I know that in a way, it's a compliment. But I started asking myself whether it's normal that I can bounce back so fast. Does that make me a bad mom? Does that make me a strange human being? Does that mean I don't love you as much as I think I do?

Leo, tomorrow I'm visiting my friend who gave birth last Sunday. She had a little boy. I remember thinking that it would be so cool for you, because you'd have a little friend who's just 4 months older than you. Plus, my other friend is pregnant too, and her baby is due 3 months after your due date. You would have had so many little friends! To be honest, I'm excited to see the new baby, but I'm also scared. I'm worried that when I hold him, I'll start crying. I'm worried that holding him will remind me of holding you and that I'll feel envy. I don't want to cry, because visiting a new baby is a happy event and I don't want to ruin it with my sadness. It would be horrible for the new mom. If you are watching over me, please give me the strength to go through this and to be a good friend. Stay close to my heart, so that I feel your presence while holding another baby.

Back to Normal? Hardly!

Dear Leo,

It's been 3 weeks since you came and left this world. To me, it already seems like so long ago. The past few days and weeks have been really long and intense.

This past Monday was my first day back to work. I took 8 days off in total, which was a little bit more than I wanted, but your dad wanted us to spend more time together, and that was a good idea. As I walked from the bus stop to my office, I hated myself for a moment. I was thinking "how can I just be walking to work as if nothing had happened? How can I just go on and do exactly the same thing i was doing before you were born?" My walk is only about 10 minutes, but that was the hardest walk to the office ever. I know I need to go back to work, but it seemed like i was denying your existence by just going back to normal.

When I got into the office, I know a lot of my coworkers didn't really know what to do. I got hugs from 2 ladies at work and a few 'welcome back'. But some people, didn't even look at me or say a single word to me. I keep telling myself "they just don't know what to say....they just don't know how to act...they don't want to hurt you".  But at the same time, I'm thinking "I don't have leprosy,  you can come close to me!" It just felt so weird. It's Wednesday now and still a couple of people haven't said a word to me. It's a small office (about 13 people) and we all sit in a large open space, so it's not like they haven't seen me. Anyway, I don't know what to make of this.

Monday was a tough day. I stayed at work late, until 7pm. In a way, I wanted to stay at work, because it kept me busy. I was also a little worried because I had a lot of catching up to do and I don't want to be seen as a liability. I got home pretty tired and the kitchen was a complete mess. I think I was upset that your dad didn't empty the dishwasher, wash the dishes in the sink, take out the garbage...so I got home, took off my jacket and started cleaning up. Then, your dad tells me that our friend delivered her baby the day before. I was happy for her, she is my friend after all. But as I was doing the dishes, I fell the tears coming. Was I just frustrated because of the messy kitchen? Was I jealous that my friend has a healthy baby who is alive? Was I upset with the whole coworker situation? I don't know what it was.

On Monday, I also contact a lawyer friend of mine and told her about the clinic that refused to help me on the day of your birth. I had walked into a clinic, told them I was 23 weeks pregnant, bleeding and in pain and they didn't help me. After a few quick online searches, I found out they are not allowed to refuse me. I didn't think of suing them at first, but on Monday I thought I should do something. I know that suing them will help future patients and women...but a part of me thinks I'm doing this because I'm angry at them. I can't believe the receptionist didn't help me. As a human, she should have offered me some assistance. She just sat there, as I cried in front of her!!!! Argh.

I finished reading a book called "Grieving the Child I never Met". It was a mix of help for grieving parents and religious passages. I didn't find it very useful. Now I'm reading a book entitled "Empty Cradle". It has stories from other grieving parents. The book makes me cry, but it also allows me to validate how I feel and I feel better knowing that I'm not the only one going through this pain.

I just saw some pictures of my friend and her newborn baby on Facebook. My friend looks so beautiful and so happy and her baby looks healthy. I teared up seeing this picture.I immediately thought "I wish that was me". On the pictures of me holding you, I look so worried and sad...so different from my friend.

I miss you Leo.

Teary, Teary Eye

Wow, I am super emotional. I read about mood swings, but didn't know it would happen so quickly.

On Sunday, literally 3 days after finding out I was pregnant, I went to church. I felt I needed to thank the heavens for making this happen. During the service, a little girl was being baptized. Oh man, I started thinking about my own child's baptism and then TEARS. Later, I was just signing along with the choir and then TEARS. I knelt down to pray and TEARS. It was honestly a little embarrassing. I was trying to hide it - I looked like a mess. It makes me laugh now, but thinking back, I just couldn't hold it together.

Then, on Wednesday, like every other Wednesday, I went to my volleyball game. One again, I was the only girl there. I don't really mind that, since I think I can take the guys, no problem. But that night, they were really bugging me. Now that I think about it, I don't know if I was just easily frustrated because of the hormones or if I really had a good reason....they kept coming into my section, bumping into me, when it was clearly MY ball...and then when I told one of the guys "when i'm playing net, I'll get the ball" he said "but how will you spike" (the net is set at guy's height, which is way higher than girls' height....also, the guys that I play with are huge spikers, but not necessarily good spikers as 50% of the time the ball goes out of bounds). So I told this guy "well, I don't have to spike. I can just make sure the ball goes on the other side of the net. That's a possibility, isn't it?". I know I was being a jerk, but I hate it when they dont' let me play. I think I'm just as good as them. Of course, we all have our strengths and weaknesses but overall, I think we average to the same skill level. Anyway, after this little talk, I thought the game would be better, but it didn't. I played a whole game and I think I touched the ball maybe 5 times (not counting the times I served) because they kept coming into my space. I was soooo frustrated! So frustrated that I felt the tears coming up. I didn't want to risk being even more mad and worse: crying in front of all the other players. So after the 2nd game, I said goodnight and decided to run at the gym, in order to get my workout in.

I never got this mad at a volleyball game before. I'm actually wondering now if it was warranted. Was it hormones?