Before I write anything else, please head over to Belle’s blog and show her some love. She found out today that Pip doesn’t have a heartbeat. I am heartbroken for her.
Today marks 3 months since we lost Nadav. I didn’t mean to acknowledge it in any way, but the truth is that I’ve been feeling really down the last few days and I only yesterday really understood that there’s a correlation.
On Friday Ababaderech came over and we had a really long talk. He has a tendency to reach the truth with me when we talk. It always happens that within the hour he has me confessing my darkest fears and feelings. Friday was no exception.
Our conversation brought a lot of feelings up to the surface that I’ve been suppressing.
The fact is that I spend most of my days in denial.
I’ve suffered from depression and anxiety for most of my life. Through all of that time I never contemplated self-harm. Not once.
Not once until these last few months. And that scares the crap out of me.
I very rarely let myself linger on Nadav. Wondering what he would have looked like. Wondering what kind of person he would have grown up to be. I don’t let myself linger on it, because it’s too painful. Because it leads me to darker places than I’ve ever been before.
But sometimes, those thoughts come. With them, comes the weight of the last two years. The fact that as much as we’ve grown, here we still are: Two years later, one stillbirth, two ectopics, one blighted ovum, 40 pounds heavier, 3 surgery scars, one tube removed, a bruised uterus, a mild dependance on Xan.ax, and empty arms.
Holy crap that’s depressing to write. No wonder I get overwhelmed when the weight of it hits me.
So I don’t let it. That’s kind of my point. I spend every single solitary day ignoring it. Throwing myself into work. Obsessing about this cycle, planning our vacation. Doing anything but thinking about it.
I promised myself a lot of things after we lost Nadav. The truth is, I haven’t kept up with all of those promises.
Yes, I am living my life more fully. I am making a bigger effort to reach out. I am doing my best to appreciate the life that we have.
But I am still obsessed with bringing resolution to all of this. Whether it’s by giving birth myself, surrogacy, or adoption, I need this to be over.
I think I have a lot of unprocessed grief about losing my son. Sometimes I feel guilty about not processing it. Sometimes I feel like I’m lying to myself by continuing on the path I’ve been on.
But sometimes I think it’s the only way for me to get through this. That I know one day the weight of all of this will hit me fully. I know that one day I will truly grieve for my son.
But today is not that day. Tomorrow will not be that day.
The day I will truly grieve is the day we have resolved this. Because if I let myself grieve any sooner, I will break into tiny pieces and I won’t be able to put myself back together again.
So I let myself forget. I let myself escape into cycle days and pee sticks and lolcats.
Because anything else would be unbearable. Until my arms are full, I will do my best to ignore the growing emptiness.