Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Baby Weight

Today, I woke up thinking about "The Sunday I will never forget". Pieces of the hospital stay keep appearing in my mind. I hope I never forget the details. The details are all I have.

My thoughts were more matter of fact then. I knew my baby was dead but I hadn't shed any tears. I watched my husband barely hold it together and I felt bad for him, I felt bad for what he was going through. 

I was unaware (and I still am) about how long Brody was dead before we got to the hospital. But, at 8am when we were on our way to the hospital I didn't realize I would have to hold his body in my womb for almost 11 more hours. Looking back, that realization alone, makes me feel a way that I just can not put into words. A place where I always thought he would be safe and taken care of was now a place of death and it was inside of me. 

I hadn't thought about it much that day or the days following but now I wonder everyday if he suffered. Did he flail around trying to find a way out, did he struggle, did he wonder why his mommy wasn't helping? Those thoughts haunt me. They told me that it was peaceful but I can not find anything peaceful with the fact that my son died inside of me. I have to carry with me, everyday, the exact spot where Brody died. I still have a difficult time touching my belly or looking at it. I'm mad at it like it killed him on purpose, I hold a grudge with my own womb. I give it dirty looks in the mirror and in the bath tub. 

I cried on the second night. It was the first time Adam had fell asleep and there I was...alone. I tried to wake him but he was just so exhausted from all the emotions and from not sleeping the night before. Alone...a feeling I hadn't had for thirty weeks. I was never alone. It was Brody and I against the world. Obviously, where ever I went, he was there too. Every movie with a friend, every dinner with my sister, every where I drove and tried to get him acquainted with Billy Joel early, he was there. We were a team. When it hit me that our team was down by one member, I cried...finally. I cried so hard yet still cautious as to not wake Adam. 

That night I was only crying for the only reason that made sense...Brody was gone. Today, I still cry for that reason but so many more. I even cry for reasons that don't make sense. I cry because I feel so empty, I cry because I'm so proud of Brody, I cry because my family will never be complete even if we have 8 more children, I cry because I just realized I haven't cried all day, I cry because I just cannot put into words how I feel that day, even if I knew and understood every single word that ever existed, I still would not be able to describe how I feel and that feeling makes me cry. 

August 21, 2011 was the worst day of my life but I wish it was like the movie "Groundhog Day". I wish I woke up every morning on August 21, 2011. I know that it may be difficult to comprehend for everyone reading this and I'm sorry that I don't have this explanation of why that will make you think "Oh, ok, now I get it, now I completely understand", because believe me, you don't want to completely understand...ever. I just know that that horrible day that was the worst day of my life was also for some strange reason the best day of my life...It was the day I delivered my baby boy and kissed his forehead. 

Those few days in the hospital almost seem like they didn't happen. They were so strange and so blurry but also filled with a strict reality that barely exists today. I knew what had happened and I knew I couldn't fall apart. Today, there are days I allow myself to fall apart and I know I need those days. I had no idea what was ahead of us, the journey that we were about to take, I just knew we had to get through it and that we would. 

I didn't have to hide then, I didn't have to wish I had a post- it on my forehead that read "My baby died", because everyone knew already. Today, things are different. Some people know and some people don't. When I'm surrounded by people who know, I'm carrying the "baby weight". The "baby weight" is what I call what makes me different now. It makes me go from a full on smile and laughter to turning away from the laughter with guilt. The baby weight makes me talk about Brody in a conversation that has nothing to do with babies at all. Some people allow me to and that makes me feel great, some people look at me like they are thinking "why are you still talking about that baby?", They make me want to pull his picture out and show them he was real, but I don't. The baby weight pulls me down but I don't want to lose it, it's what keeps me close to Brody. When I'm around people who don't know, I feel like an award winning actress, pretending to be someone who isn't grieving. 

Things are a lot different now than they were three months ago and I'm sure they will keep changing all while remaining the same.

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