Another step back

I’ve spent part of this evening reading blogs of friends…older blogs that were written long before I came along to this world. I have to admit, their stories are painful to read but bring comfort at the same time. Other loss moms feel as I do and think as I do. I’m not as crazy as I think sometimes.

I’ve found myself “backsliding” (as I’ve come to think of it). Reliving the grief process, yet again. This is not the first time in the last months I’ve been here, but each time is different. The sadness has shifted, the pain less sharp but deeper.

I spoke with my new doctor this last week. He was shocked at the lack of information we weren’t provided was able to shed new light on the loss of our son. At the time, the news didn’t mean much to me…gone is gone. Now, days later, I feel a little differently. Not better or worse, just different. Knowing he’s gone from a freak twist of fate, an ugly turn of nature, a fluke…call it what you will…makes me angry all over again. The unfairness of it all is startling.

I was able to go into his room the other day and sit for a while. Surrounded by things that were meant to be his, I sat on the floor and pulled out his pictures. I ran my fingers over his photos, held the blanket the hospital wrapped him in and cried. I opened a few boxes of the baby clothes that were packed and pulled a few things out.

Here’s where the crazy part comes in. I sat looking at his swing and wondered if I should get his box of ashes and put him in the swing. I could put his blanket in there, give it a push and rock him for a bit. I sat and fantasized about that for a while – and even though the thought was, at the time, appealing – I then realized I was one step away from wrapping a doll up and putting it in a stroller and going for a walk, introducing my neighbors to my “son”.

I can’t explain where that thought or impulse came from – but I’ll be the first to admit that it was a little off the charts. I don’t even want to guess what my husband would have said had he come home at that moment.

I’m not quite sure where this leaves me. I’m really aching for him right now. Sometimes, I catch myself forgetting that this is my reality. I read stories of losses and think, “Wow, that would be awful” and then remember…it is awful. It happened to us, I know this.

Some of this was brought on by my doctor’s appointment. I lost count of how many people I had to explain our loss to…how many times I had to relive it in one day. I didn’t cry (I’m proud of myself) but I was close. I bit the side of my tongue more than once to hold the tears back. I just wanted to get through my appointment…crying could wait for home.