Sunday, October 31, 2010

Halloween (beware there is no theme or organization to this post)

Thank goodness we were inside with the World Series all night - I know I wouldn't have been able to handle walking out with all the children out on the street. E said to me tonight (after perusing FB and then bursting into tears) "I'm going to be like 60 years old before I have a kid to take trick or treating..."

He and I are on the same page right now - I feel so old. Too old to do this again. I've run out of time, according to my brain. (I know science and medicine and reality tell me otherwise...but I am so scared that I'm too old.) We hike our loop and see so many families out there, and also see a fair amount of pregnant ladies and the tape just keeps playing in my head "How old is she? How old are they? So they had that baby when they were how old? And therefore could I?" and so on and so on and so on.

I don't know when we'll be able to even start trying again. Warning - TMI in 4...3...2...1... As I type this, I am sitting on my trusty new donut cushion because FFS my episiotomy scar-in-progress has started hurting like a mofo in the last few days. Scarily enough, nothing hurt that first week postpartum - I was just totally and completely numb - emotionally and physically. 7 weeks later, it's like feeling is returning and everything is getting worse - emotionally and physically. The last few days the grief has felt more all encompassing and more hopeless and more overwhelming and more permanent than it ever did before.

Tonight after the game we walked the dogs and saw a few of the last straggling Trick or Treaters. I walked along doing mental math, like I always do, "Could I be pregnant by next Halloween?" (yes, please) "Could I have a baby by next Halloween?" (likely no) "Will I ever be able to feel happy about Halloween or will it always be the first holiday we had to 'celebrate' after Otis died?" (hopefully both, I guess. no good answer to that question.)

I just feel like everything is one big no win situation for me. I don't see how this is ever going to shift, though I hear (and read) that it does - for better and for worse. I keep hearing about the "it gets more difficult" and I just can't bear the thought. I feel like the depths of the dark just keep getting deeper. Darker than anything I ever even imagined could exist. And every time I hit the (perceived) bottom I think "Oh, this must be the worst it's going to get" and then I'll be damned if three hours later I am writhing in pain ten times worse.

My list tonight is short: I am grateful for my husband and my dogs. My family. They are keeping me alive right now.


Maddie said...

Sending love and hugs. Everyone is different but I felt pretty awful (that's an understatment) about 6 weeks and then it became more up and down again. Just breathe and do whatever you need to in order to get through the days.

And I don't know if this will help you but I got pregnant 9 weeks after Matilda was born and that baby is Max and he's home with us now. So it can happen quickly.

Maddie x

Merry said...

I said to someone the other day that (7 months tomorrow since he was born) I feel like I am often still a ship on a stormy sea but that I'm getting a little better at what to do with my sails on the bad days. The rough bits last less long, there is more of a sense of "okay, here we go, I know a little what to do with this..."

æ said...

I am so glad you're alive right now Sarah. So glad.

And so sorry that it was halloween. Feels very confrontational when I imagine you in the midst of it, coming up to your door and taking over the street and such.

Obviously there's the biological component, but FWIW, you and e are both so ageless. You're going to be young, lively parents--no matter when.


kate said...

I am so sorry that your body is taking so long to heal... I guess it is no surprise that it would mirror your soul. I can't bear to think of things getting harder and darker before you get relief. I am so grateful that you are alive and that your family and sweet dogs are giving you the love and support to keep you here. I wish you had the luxury of time, that you did not feel that you were too old... I know that this adds another level to your grief. I hold such great hope and love for you Sarah.

Kate xx

Sarah said...

I love you so much and am so glad you are here with us. I have so much hope for you.

Simply Me said...

Hi love,
I am currently seated in Panera and there is a woman next to me with a very young baby. I kind of want to punch her, and I know that isn't very nice, but I do. I am so irrationally angry at her (though she really seems perfectly nice) for getting to have a child when you lost yours. I think I'm most angry that she doesn't know that you have a son who is no longer with you, and so she gets to enjoy her child without also knowing how lucky she is. This is so unfair, I have no idea about her history, but I can't help but make snap judgments. Somehow this seems unbearable and makes me cry with sadness to even think about it. There is something to the not knowing that seems extra painful.

I realize this might be an odd thing to share with you, but I wanted to let you know that you are on my mind always - even through sudden hatred of random women who don't know your story.

Thinking of you, Otis, and E so often, and holding your pain in my heart always.
Lots of love,

Anonymous said...

Bless you sweet Sarah.... I am so glad you are alive my friend. We continue to parallel each other through this... I have spent the last 4 days weeping every few moments...

I want to tell you that you are not too old, that you deserve to hold Otis' sibling and that one day you will. I just hope my assuredness in that does not offend you my friend.

You are constantly in my thoughts...

Hope's Mama said...

I am new to your blog. I am so very sorry for the loss of your son Otis.
I will be reading along from now on, remembering and missing Otis with you.

zubeldia said...

Morning my sweet woman,

Goodness, I was thinking so much about Otis yesterday, and I was completely overwhelmed with a wish that he was with us still, cuddling with his mama, those perfect little chubby arms and legs. It's shattering - the realization - and I just keep repeating this mantra to myself about unfair it is, how bloody unfair.

And, YES, YES, you and E so deserve to have Otis' sibling, and you will be lively and loving and the parents any child would want. You're a good, good woman and I want to reiterate that to my mind you are not too old - biologically, spiritually.

Sending so much love, xx