everything hurts. i need to do this. writing has always created something special in me, maybe taken away from the physical social thing, but something.
but right now im not sure, im not sure what will help.
im shaking loose, my mind is literally falling out of my eyes and nose, my heart... my poor fucking heart is beating a thousand times per second, too hard too fast. i went into the hospital last thurs day via an ambulance, excited and a little scared. water broken, pain coming, baby coming. i was praying on the hightway, EMTs talking to the back of my head. i thought everything was going to be ok. now. im at my sisters house. and i dont have a baby. i have a crooked painful cut on my stomach staples marching downward, i have a sore back, i have a hysterectomy, i have a cracked mind. i have a bag full of tiny blankets, knitted tiny beanies, tiny shoes, tiny everything. and still i have nothing. my arms have nothing.
my baby was tiny. she was barely there. she was mostly tubes, laying in a plastic box. and everything was wrong.
the doctors said she was sick. alot of words, but once he said the word 'fatal' i shut down. i reached for her fathers hands and let go of whatever sanity and hope i had left.
these things happen in the world everyday. but i dont care or give a crap about that. the things i would say to someone if the situation was reversed are meaningless. they bounce off me. the hole in my chest doesnt want to be filled. im so angry. my family calls and i dont answer. i dont want them to be sad for me or offer comfort. its almost like the nails waiting for me to decide im ready to start in with the hammer. it would be a tiny coffin. i dont think im ever going to be ready. i had a daughter, me, i was so ready for this little girl. my whole being was being poured into her growth, her happiness.. her life. and i had her for 5 days.
i honestly dont know what to do.
i try to go out, and i wake up heavy with guilt.
when i laugh something twitches as if to say, thats not fair.
i kiss my man and i think about what it would have been like to giggle with her about boys.
i repeat, everything hurts.
grief is a funny thing. sadness, anger, and other steps that seem much less prominent or important right now. i want my friends to be there, but i feel like a burden, a crying mess, a wreck.
nothing is working right. losing a child was not in my plans, my life has been this feeling over and over and ill be honest im fucking tired. i cant lose anyone else! where is the lesson? what was i supposed to learn? that i am strong enough to take my tiny baby off life support, let her father hold her while she died, wait in a little well decorated room for the nurse to bring her in after, so i could actually hold her? i wanted to feel her warmth, smell her skin, talk to her so she would look at me. not hold a small dead child wrapped in beautiful blankets and stumble through a cracked and difficult goodbye. this wasnt fair this wasnt fair this wasnt fair. oh, and they took my uterus too so i cant ever carry a child again mid C section? awesome, whats the lesson there? that i should buy some slamming jeans? my baby and my chances to do it again are basically gone. my sister tells me she'll carry my future children, but i miss my stomach, looking down and touching it, looking funny but womanly in my clothes.
fuck. this is something else man. i tell you im just not sure what happened.
pouring out feels better. i need it, since i cant really talk to people right now. the small group im hiding in, well they protect me, watch me, love me. but i want to sneak away and punch something, draw blood, scream.
psh. for now all i can do is write this and chug coffee. her blanket is here, i touch it often. it smells like the hospital, i wish it would hold the smell forever.
i miss you, baby. Alastair. piece of me.
back to the chaos. a little lighter though, thankfully.