Once the unspeakable happens. People surround you for the first few weeks. Even the people who hadn't been part of your life before the loss.
They send you sympathy cards or flowers. They call you to see how you're doing. Pretty much their making sure you're not going to go off the deep end such as jumping off a bridge, not eating, making sure you get out of bed. They make sure you don't do what is clearly categorized as crazy, like rocking a baby doll or dressing one up.
The mail continues to flood the bereaved parents with more sympathy cards and then the new baby mail comes. Formula samples. Diaper samples. Free baby magazines and coupons. All the more to remind the parent their baby isn't at home with them. The baby will never be coming home.
You, the mother of the deceased begins to envy each pregnant woman she sees. You feel anger toward them for being pregnant when your pregnancy ended so abruptly and not in a joyful way. After the loss of a child, it seems like every woman around the you becomes pregnant.
The baby stuff lingers throughout the house even though it's not needed. You don't have it in you to rid yourself of the baby stuff.
You feel tired, lost, and afraid of EVERYTHING! The baby you had but didn't have changed everything. It changed all your believes and took your comfort. You now feel vulnerable every minute of everyday, waiting.
You see a new baby and it stabs at your heart. It reminds you what isn't to be. You attend birthday parties for loved ones and see that the firsts will never be. You hear a baby cry which makes you cry. This was one thing you were waiting to hear from the child that will never be.
Your dreams become filled with the nightmare of when you first found out about the loss, up to after the funeral. You remember how you felt when you first heard the words, "there's no heartbeat." You remember how it felt to push your child's lifeless body out of yours. You remember the dreaded time when you had to break the news to the baby's sibling that the baby gain her wings.
You remember the exact shade of pink that covered the casket. You remember where, how, and what you did during the funeral. Every move is forever etched within your mind. You remember the warmth from the sun and the breeze that blew during the funeral. Then after the funeral you are smothered with hugs from various people sharing their condolences. At that moment in time, it seems as if all the air was sucked from earth and you're fighting to breath.
People begin to compare the loss of their grandmother or uncle to the loss of your child. Some how this just doesn't cut it because their loss will NEVER measure up to the loss of your baby. No matter how tragic their loss was.
You realize you have lost a dream and reality slowly begins to slip. What was... will never be. Everything has changed and you must find a way to change with it. The thing is you will NEVER find a way to accept the fact that your baby has died. You learn to live with the pain every day for the rest of your life.
This is how I feel. I am an angel mom. I am real. However, I'm not the victim. I am a survivor. I survived my daughter as a stillbirth. Some how this amazes me. I survived the unthinkable.
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