Monday, December 13, 2010


We made it through the weekend. Barely.

I started bleeding on Saturday morning, slashing all those "miracle pregnancy within the year of Otis" dreams. I didn't realize how much I'd invested in that dream.

So that, combined with all the monthiversaries and weekiversaries and anniversary of his conception pretty much led me into the darkest hole I've found myself in since he died.

My face is peeling from wiping snot and tears off of it. I soaked at least four washcloths with those tears and snot, and that was just in one of many crying jags. I couldn't open my eye on Sunday morning when I woke up, I thought I had pink eye because my eye was glued shut. No pink eye, just tears.

Lots of really, really dark thoughts showed up in that dark hole of grief. All the guilt, all the "this was my fault." (Please, I know, I know, rationally, that this wasn't my fault. Try telling that to a hysterical grieving mother - rational doesn't work with her. But I don't need you to tell me now. I know.) I am beaten down. Broken. Shattered. Grief is kicking my ass. And then some. I don't know how I'm going to make it through Christmas. Mercy.


Anonymous said...

So apparently you and I are room mates down here in the bowels of fuckdom. The lowest of the low- I know exactly what you mean. I am so sorry Sarah- that any of us has to know this pain and feel this loss. It seems unbearable. Reading blogs like Sally's helps to see that somewhere down the roan we must eventually find some light- some levity- some breathing room. I'm not sure how long we will have to walk, but I can say that I am grateful for the company- and you know the g word doesn't come easily for me.
I am thinking of you every day- hoping one day might be easier than the one before, and that if it isn't, that you know you have so much love and support coming your way in the darkness.

Tess said...

I know of shifting those goal posts further away, it breaks my heart doing so - I've told myself that if I'm not pregnant by Elizabeth's first birthday, then... I don't know?

I turn back to wise words when I hit a dead end (thank you L) - Grieving them is yet another way of loving them. Let yourself love him Sarah, let yourself miss him and let your heart ache without restriction.

Sending so much love and strength to you

Maddie said...

Keep breathing, crying, screaming and eventually there'll be a time with moments of peace and even laughter. It won't seem like it at times but it'll happen.

Sending you the hugest hugs. Facing your first Christmas on top of those dashed hopes is going to be hard. I cancelled Christmas after Matilda died - our families still came but no Christmas Tree, no presents, no Merry Christmas's. I tried to pretend it wasn't happening.

Thinking of you.

Angela said...

I'm camped out with you and L. Life is miserable down here, but I don't see myself climbing to the top - or even halfway up - anytime soon.

Up until four months after she died I had eye infections from crying so much. I'm so sorry any of us have to feel this pain.

I hope mercy comes your way soon, but if it doesn't know you are not alone in the darkness.

Missy said...

I'm going to bring the cocoa down into the depths. And a few tv's for smashing. Really, I wish I were full of strength so I could carry all of us out of the darkness. Sending a lot of love your way mama!

æ said...

hey sarah, i've been thinking of you a bunch. there is something about the threemonthiversary. three months. it feels like yesterday and it feels like forever.

i am touched you could let J in with the tree, and i'm glad you have these good people around you to grieve otis with you and e.


kate said...

i am so sorry sarah - about the broken dreams and the dark hole of grief that is the flip side of loving so deeply.

you & otis are in my mind and heart constantly. now and always.

kate xx

Hope's Mama said...

Sweet girl, this just breaks my heart to read but it doesn't surprise me either. Because as always, you have managed to capture with your words exactly where I was at four months out as well. This is so wrong and unfair and awful and I wish I could take it all away for you.
Wishing you moments of peace.

Hanen said...

Hi Sarah, Just found you via Brianna's blog, and I'm so so sorry. Otis is just beautiful - what an amazing little boy. This is so hard.

We're close to a year out from losing Z now, and feel like we're getting to know this wily old bastard grief a bit better now. He still packs a mean punch, but we're better at reading him now, ducking in time, or bracing for it. But early on, he catches you by surprise. I wish I could make it easier for you, but only you can know your own grief. Sending love xxxh

hayley said...

oh love, what I wouldn't give to be able to offer you a little pause, a break, some time to catch your breath. I'm sorry you didn't conceive this month, but all those wishes still stand, hopes and prayers for better things to come.

all my love h.x

Sarah said...

Oh Sarah, I would give anything to give you a respite from this pain. I love you and Otis so much. I think of you all the time with so much love. You are always in my prayers.

brianna said...

Sarah, I'm so sorry. There is nothing to say or do but just go through those darkest moments. Hope that the ones that are this dark are short and keep your expectations of yourself to a minimum. Keep it one day at a time during these periods.

Jenn said...

Oh Sarah, I'm so sorry it's so hard right now. It sucks and it's awful and I wish there was something I could do to fix it or make it better for you. I'm thinking of you and of Otis and praying for you, too. Sending you so much love and many many hugs. xx