Almost 67 [what its like]
***WARNING***
Triggers: stillbirth, live birth, profanity
Many people have asked, or expressed that they "can't imagine how it feels".
"It" being the loss of a child. In my case, a stillbirth of a child.
Could I tell you how it feels? Not really. I can't imagine how it would've felt, before I felt it.
My best friend and I were talking, and I was going over how a certain situation in OR, I will leave this out for now because I haven't finished Isaac's birth story yet and its further into the story than what I've written thus far. She said it was like "F*CK" in this moment in time, time is frozen. I told her its like having your organs prolapse out of your anus with the force of a million punches to the gut. Its the same "F*CK!" I felt when Dr. Sink told me that Emma's heart had stopped. He said, and not verbatim, it's foggy; "I'm not sure exactly what happened, and unless I'm missing something really bad...it seems her heart has stopped." Then came the kick. Like on the movie "Inception" when they're in a dream within a dream and the music plays and they feel a kick, where someone pulls a rug out from under them, knocks them out of their chair, dumps them into water...all while being sound asleep submerged in the depth of dreams within a dream.
You think you've felt your heart drop into your stomach...or your stomach drop to your toes? My guess is yes, but you haven't felt it like this.
Its different than dropping on that first descent on a coaster where 0 Gs kick in.
Its more than when you're told someone has died or when your patient starts coding.
Its worse than getting called into your boss' office, or the principal's office for something you KNOW you did, but were hoping would blow over.
Its scarier than getting caught up doing something you know you were not supposed to be doing.
Its more nerve wracking than the feeling you get after you almost wreck.
Its more heart pounding than when you are facing your biggest phobia and trying to desensitize.
Its more terrifying than staring into the eye of a massive storm.
Its the ultimate end-all. It never goes away.
As wonderful as meeting your child for the first time is, their first cry, the first time you see their face or touch their skin...as good as that is, it is that bad. It is that phenomenally strong, on the opposite end of the spectrum.
Someone gave the earth a swift kick to the sack. My earth, anyway. A sharp blow to the head. A thousand knives to the heart. Its like watching your aorta tear into shreds in front of your eyes. Watching your own heart go from normal sinus to v-tach to agonal to asystole in a matter of seconds. Like someone has tied concrete blocks to your feet and dropped you off the edge of a dock, you see the sunlight fade through the layers and layers of clear water until it fades to black and you can't see anymore and you're left alone at the bottom of the water trying to find your breath, but you cant, because all there is left is water. You can't breathe water. This is drowning. Drowning on land, in a sea of despair that never seems to fade, not even over a year later. It only just seems to become the norm, and you get used to or acquainted with grief and death and sorrow and desperation to the point to where if you don't feel something the whole day, you'll force yourself. Its sort of like "you'd bleed just to know you're alive". If you're not hurting, if you're happy one day and you haven't felt the despair all day, you listen to a song, or watch a video, or look at a picture that makes you slip just a little below the line. Why? Because that's all you have left of her. Because guilt will tell you that if you're not hurting, you've forgotten, or that you no longer care. And even in these moments, you know that this is the new you, the now you, the you that knows that this grief is a part of every day life and that feeling like this is only a dedication to her memory. The more moments you have like this, the more likely you are to never forget her. Not that you ever could...
Truth is, you'll never know...unless you know. And just hope you never have to know.
When being naive is the best possible thing that you could be.
xoxo
Triggers: stillbirth, live birth, profanity
Many people have asked, or expressed that they "can't imagine how it feels".
"It" being the loss of a child. In my case, a stillbirth of a child.
Could I tell you how it feels? Not really. I can't imagine how it would've felt, before I felt it.
My best friend and I were talking, and I was going over how a certain situation in OR, I will leave this out for now because I haven't finished Isaac's birth story yet and its further into the story than what I've written thus far. She said it was like "F*CK" in this moment in time, time is frozen. I told her its like having your organs prolapse out of your anus with the force of a million punches to the gut. Its the same "F*CK!" I felt when Dr. Sink told me that Emma's heart had stopped. He said, and not verbatim, it's foggy; "I'm not sure exactly what happened, and unless I'm missing something really bad...it seems her heart has stopped." Then came the kick. Like on the movie "Inception" when they're in a dream within a dream and the music plays and they feel a kick, where someone pulls a rug out from under them, knocks them out of their chair, dumps them into water...all while being sound asleep submerged in the depth of dreams within a dream.
You think you've felt your heart drop into your stomach...or your stomach drop to your toes? My guess is yes, but you haven't felt it like this.
Its different than dropping on that first descent on a coaster where 0 Gs kick in.
Its more than when you're told someone has died or when your patient starts coding.
Its worse than getting called into your boss' office, or the principal's office for something you KNOW you did, but were hoping would blow over.
Its scarier than getting caught up doing something you know you were not supposed to be doing.
Its more nerve wracking than the feeling you get after you almost wreck.
Its more heart pounding than when you are facing your biggest phobia and trying to desensitize.
Its more terrifying than staring into the eye of a massive storm.
Its the ultimate end-all. It never goes away.
As wonderful as meeting your child for the first time is, their first cry, the first time you see their face or touch their skin...as good as that is, it is that bad. It is that phenomenally strong, on the opposite end of the spectrum.
Someone gave the earth a swift kick to the sack. My earth, anyway. A sharp blow to the head. A thousand knives to the heart. Its like watching your aorta tear into shreds in front of your eyes. Watching your own heart go from normal sinus to v-tach to agonal to asystole in a matter of seconds. Like someone has tied concrete blocks to your feet and dropped you off the edge of a dock, you see the sunlight fade through the layers and layers of clear water until it fades to black and you can't see anymore and you're left alone at the bottom of the water trying to find your breath, but you cant, because all there is left is water. You can't breathe water. This is drowning. Drowning on land, in a sea of despair that never seems to fade, not even over a year later. It only just seems to become the norm, and you get used to or acquainted with grief and death and sorrow and desperation to the point to where if you don't feel something the whole day, you'll force yourself. Its sort of like "you'd bleed just to know you're alive". If you're not hurting, if you're happy one day and you haven't felt the despair all day, you listen to a song, or watch a video, or look at a picture that makes you slip just a little below the line. Why? Because that's all you have left of her. Because guilt will tell you that if you're not hurting, you've forgotten, or that you no longer care. And even in these moments, you know that this is the new you, the now you, the you that knows that this grief is a part of every day life and that feeling like this is only a dedication to her memory. The more moments you have like this, the more likely you are to never forget her. Not that you ever could...
Truth is, you'll never know...unless you know. And just hope you never have to know.
When being naive is the best possible thing that you could be.
xoxo
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