Thursday, August 13, 2009

Funky Town

I'm in a funk. I've been reading but my comments have been lacking and for that I am sorry. I have taken so much in the way of support here and I hate to not be able to give back that which has been so tenderly and continuously and unselfishly offered to me.

I am not sure what has me so down. The summer has been good to me, to us, for the most part. Not too hot, not too unbearable. A few more trips to the beach than I imagined I'd get with Master Cason on board and even a couple of days away, him tucked safely with Grandma, while Grandpa and his older brother and sister and mom and dad went and played in the boat and baked in the hot Arizona sun(an annual journey that for the past two years I made with a baby in my belly, one alive and one...well...not, as it turned out.)And again I didn't think that trip would happen this year either, but it did, so I am happy as I don't know how many more trips I'll get like that with all three generations, many I hope, but you never know.

Yet here I am, in funky town. Cason turns 9 months next week. He'll be out of me as long as he was in me. Somehow that makes me sad. As if he becomes more a part of this world and less a part of me now. Which is a good thing, it is as it should be and I know that. It's what I want for him. Obviously, right? But still. As hard as that pregnancy was on my mental state and the emotional roller coaster it sent me on, I miss it. Maybe it is the knowing that those days are all completely behind me, finito, done, complete, but not. Not really. The final score doesn't add up. It is not a balanced equation. The sum does not equal its parts. They never will. I briefly entertained the idea of throwing another baby into the mix. Yea, you read that right. In the first weeks after Cason was born I thought about it. About trying to give him a sibling closer to his age. Given all that came before him, he is two years younger than we imagined our third being and that puts him 7 and 11 years behind his older bro and sis. So I thought to myself, with the help of some perco.cet and viocodi.n, quick, do it again and then everything will be ok. But then, of course I really thought about it and knew there was just no way I could handle another pregnancy. No fucking way. And certainly not another loss. So I closed the door. HARD.
And now here I am almost 9 months later, time enough for that pregnancy, and I think I resent having to make the decision the way I did. Which, I imagine, is the same for many who for whatever reason, some more painful, tenfold more painful, have 'decided' they can't do it again. It's not a "Hey, do you like the red shirt or the blue shirt better?" type of decision. It's a "hey how much more torture do you feel you can stand and how much do you really want to risk when it comes to your sanity and is what you have right now enough to hold onto so that you can let go of the idea of what you think you might get IF everything goes perfectly?" type of mental gymnastics question. And in the end it didn't feel like a choice, it felt more like resignation. Which is weird to me because I never wanted 4 kids ( and yes I know I have 4 but...yea that) so it surprises me to feel so conflicted and still not conflicted, if that makes sense.

And then there is the 2 year point, looming. And the days, the routine of summer and vacations to the same places, the jokes about how finally 'this time' I can do things I couldn't do before, not the last two times because I was pregnant. And while they are meant to be playful and I have even made some myself, they sting because, they do. Because it still does. He is not here. And then he was. I still hoped then. I don't now. And laughing at the inconvenience of his pregnancy just feels bad. It's all I had of him. Ever. So these days are both beautiful and bleak for me. I have so much and yet what I don't have looms larger as the summer winds down. People speak of Labor Day plans and I think of my labor day weekend two years ago where I labored only to give birth to death. It is hard to make plans to cherish the last days of summer when it coincides so perfectly with what were my last days with him.

I think what I need is to bury my head for awhile and look up only when I know it is all behind me. But then I realize it is all behind me and that, perhaps, is why, I remain here in funky town.

12 comments:

Hope's Mama said...

Still reading, still supporting - whatever town you are in.

Rivalen said...

We're here. We don't always know what to say to each other, but we're here and we care.

Heather said...

I'm so sorry. I wish it was less complicated. Everything you say makes perfect sense to me.

charmedgirl said...

jesus, i went to the village "family fun fest" this past weekend, as i did last year at this time, as i did two years ago...painfully hugely pregnant. i don't think i will ever go to that fucking "fun fest" without seeing my ugly pregnant self sitting on the borders on the grass, squirming, wanting to go home, knowing i HAD to go, you know, for the kids. this year was fun, as the kids are now 4.5 and able to do so many things...we are moving on as a family...

me? i am trying to move on, gracefully, thoughtfully. you know how i've come to that decision, the one about another baby or not. it was not mine to make, or i'd be pregnant again right now. oh well is all i can think. i never wanted four kids either, my pregnancy with paige was quite fucking miserable, and yeah, it's a total mind-fuck.

that being said, i read all of you ladies that birthed the one after, and i think to myself, that wasn't the cure-all either. i'm no better or worse off, really. we've all got our share of shit and the fact that i didn't get the "do-over" (which i know isn't)...it's just what happened. my baby died, i couldn't get pregnant again. that's it. the thoughts, though? the what-ifs and all that? still there. just like i just read for you, and you HAVE the baby after. i don't think it's ever over. we know that, don't we?

i want to just sleep/bury head until "it's" over too...but i'm never sure what IT is, and i also am terrified of coming-to and feeling like shit about how i missed "everything." i felt the same way about paige's pregnancy...and, yeah. fuck me. we can't miss anything else, kal.

Fireflyforever said...

Yup. This current pregnancy will 99.99% certain be my last - whether it ends in life or death ... and it's truly not I imagined ending my family making. Which is just an egocentric way of saying, I understand K.

Michele said...

Comments like that do sting... I feel like I've been PG for 2y and I know there are things I havent done but when people bring attn to it... Well, like you said, it stings...

9m... It seems like yesterday I was reading about your pregnancy and his birth. I can imagine how bittersweet this is for you.

I always am excited to see you in my blog reader... We will always be here to read what you write when you feel the need to write it.

Ya Chun said...

these kind of amorphous funks really suck. I am in one now too, and it's not raw, raging sadness, and it is not easy to shake off. Yet it is totally understandable.

Wow, two years. F. Missing Caleb too...

Aunt Becky said...

I love you and I'm sorry you're hurting.

CLC said...

Call me your funk sister. I am good at hiding it in IRL, but I still feel sad. Alot. Yet grateful and happy for Denis. It's a weird place to be.

I was talking about it with my Mom a bit today and she told me how her friend's first baby died on Dec. 14th (weird, I know) 39 years ago this coming Dec. (I knew she lost her first child, but I didn't realize we shared the date!) And you know what? She's still not over it. She still tears up. She's hone forward with life and incorporated it, but she's still sad. And that, I think, is what gets me to this funk. This is never f-ing over.

Shannon Ryan said...

I think we're all in a bit of a funky town! Sending some big ole' hugs your way via the funky town express!

Sue said...

It's really complicated, all this grief and hope and life stuff. Understandable, though it doesn't make it any easier.

I made those jokes when I was pg, how I was happy this would be my last pg, how they weren't even born yet and already causing trouble. I want to go back and smack myself.

Just take your time as you wade through all this. You have been a great friend and an amazing support -- now it's your turn to lean a little more.

Thinking of you, with love.

loribeth said...

Still trying to catch up after vacation on my reading & commenting. I was like you when I made the decision to stop IF treatment -- another pregnancy, I felt I could do -- but doing the treatments I would need to even try to get there? I just couldn't do that any more.

"And in the end it didn't feel like a choice, it felt more like resignation." Yep.

Sending you some hugs from me too.