tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post8383806714559924421..comments2023-11-05T02:21:55.387-08:00Comments on this is not what i had planned: "Real"k@laklyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05366772609212990882noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-32938943223544571662008-09-13T09:11:00.000-07:002008-09-13T09:11:00.000-07:00shit!! this fucking sucks.shit!! this fucking sucks.charmedgirlhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12317107200577724625noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-74361958875057078262008-01-26T20:36:00.000-08:002008-01-26T20:36:00.000-08:00I remember. I remember telling my husband that I j...I remember. I remember telling my husband that I just wished somebody missed her as much as I did. So sorry.Depressionistahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02854279270575644687noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-52382414217915706952008-01-23T09:58:00.000-08:002008-01-23T09:58:00.000-08:00That is such a beautiful post. Talk about Caleb as...That is such a beautiful post. Talk about Caleb as much as you can on here, I will always listen. I often think of my son and how I am the only one that knew him. I still can't talk about him without crying but I love your story of telling your friend who will tell someone else who will tell someone else.Unknownhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00675811282678813332noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-5872484320831598042008-01-23T05:50:00.000-08:002008-01-23T05:50:00.000-08:00when i imagine getting pregnant again (ie, a fanta...when i imagine getting pregnant again (ie, a fantasy), i always imagine that i will keep it a secret. not for fear of losing the baby, but because i revel in my secret, just me and the baby in there. i have yet to figure out what exactly the pleasure would be in that....maybe the fact that no one would know that baby until they're "out" anyway? kind of like what you're saying?<BR/><BR/>this is my second time around this post. i couldn't comment the first time because that velveteen quote hit me like a ton of bricks. god above.<BR/><BR/>also, i wanted to add, that i always felt that motherhood was the lonliest thing i'd ever experienced (not so much anymore, but when they were younger). grieving a dead baby who never lived outside me is right up there.charmedgirlhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12317107200577724625noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-46177550364013481082008-01-21T11:53:00.000-08:002008-01-21T11:53:00.000-08:00I think you hit the head on the nail.When someone ...I think you hit the head on the nail.<BR/><BR/>When someone dies, everyone mourns who knew that person together. They take comfort in each other.<BR/>The problem with mourning our babies is that other people only have to mourn the "idea" of our babies (even DH). We mourn the actual person...the person we knew as well as the idea.<BR/><BR/>So our grief continues long after others' grief subsides.<BR/><BR/>hugs. I remember this all too well. The weird thing is now, I feel really special to be the one who knew her...weird...missing_onehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05657322353094120712noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-84466174609733906162008-01-21T11:36:00.000-08:002008-01-21T11:36:00.000-08:00Sorry I wanted to say I love that quote and it's v...Sorry I wanted to say I love that quote and it's very apt.Coggyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07435179051565255934noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-81164824156676501332008-01-21T11:34:00.000-08:002008-01-21T11:34:00.000-08:00I think Rosalind summed it up. My grief is definit...I think Rosalind summed it up. My grief is definitely becoming much more private. I feel like everyone has forgotten. When I mention J to all but a handful of people I can hear them stuttering mentally. 'My G*d is she still talking about him!!'. <BR/><BR/>It is so hard when we are the ones, the only ones really that can keep their memories alive. I want to talk about him often, sometimes it's not just with grief. I want to reminisce I want to talk about the funny things he did. I can't understand why they don't see it the same way. Sometimes when I talk about my pregnancy I think feel like people think it doesn't count because I don't have a baby now. <BR/>You're right Kalakly this is the loneliest thing in the world. I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that as long as DH and I remember him and talk of him that's all that matters.Coggyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07435179051565255934noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-58752797780488001832008-01-21T10:13:00.000-08:002008-01-21T10:13:00.000-08:00I remember when you wrote it and it struck a cord ...I remember when you wrote it and it struck a cord in me as well .. Because I find my grief is starting to turn inward and becoming more private..Three and a half months later everyone IS over it and i'm here trying to be as normal as everyone else. The reality is I need to talk about Micah more, I need to share some of my memories that are slowly coming back to me. It's just hard for me to find te right time for that to happen...I don't know ..It's just lonely as hellRosalindhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10464278431061657399noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-10013095383474005262008-01-21T09:17:00.000-08:002008-01-21T09:17:00.000-08:00It makes me so sad that we are the only real witne...It makes me so sad that we are the only real witnesses to these babies. That we grieve and grieve and grieve for little beings who mean so little else to everyone around us. Of course, they start to question our sanity or judge us for “grieving” a little too long. We’re grieving imaginary babies, in their eyes. <BR/><BR/>I like your story about telling your friend what your doctor said while discussing delivery options and motivated by the insensitivity of the comments made, she will very likely tell someone else the story of Caleb’s birth. I like that, in the retelling, he becomes real. I guess the lesson is: tell everyone. Tell everyone and anyone who will listen. Tell, tell, and tell some more even if they’ll think you’re crazy. Because, in telling, in sharing, in exposing our grief, our babies are made real. Like the velveteen bunny, which by the way I cringe every time my children bring out for story time, because it is so damn long. I think I will bring it out tonight though. <BR/><BR/>Beautiful, moving post, Kalakly. XO.c.https://www.blogger.com/profile/02933776400434137451noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335150632431753345.post-4186929905283802682008-01-21T08:14:00.000-08:002008-01-21T08:14:00.000-08:00This thing used to drive me crazy-- the idea that ...This thing used to drive me crazy-- the idea that all of these people around, going about their business don't even know he was here. That he was a gorgeous boy, that his fingers were long, that he was big and strong, just dead. Took a long time for that part to quiet down. This is also, I realized, perhaps the biggest reason I can't deal with my MIL why I have decided she is not part of my family-- she was one of the few people who were supposed to remember him, and she chose not to. It is hard to think about what we miss about them. I finally settled on everything, all the things we never got to know. Yesterday I asked my daughter what her favorite good memories of A were, and she couldn't come up with them. So we talked about the time she came to the ultrasound and watched him swim, and the many times she would talk to him and put her hands on my belly to get a kick. That helped her, but yes, all of this is so inadequate. <BR/>About husbands. You know, I actually thought/still think that my husband had it worse in the beginning. Not only did I have a job to do, so I could and did concentrate on that, not only did I, through a random walk in the blogosphere stumble onto the grief community before, and so kinda had an idea of what might happen, but I also had that connection to A, knew something of him, while my husband was pretty much sitting and waiting to meet his son. So he felt very very cheated, very very robbed. We switched off on the "worse" title a few times since then, but I am sure he is not hurting less than me. And in a perverse sense, I am grateful for that, because at least we understand each other. Although I have to say that while my answer to that question is always "one living child," he doesn't always want to go there. <BR/><BR/>Can I tell you, though? Caleb was real. If nothing else because you love him, and because you tell us about him. And I also like your friend a lot. Fucking bitch is just about right for that OB. Stories of insensitive medical personal always make me angry, in large part, I think, because we had the best experience possible under the circumstances, as far as the sensitivity and care was concerned.Juliahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09745262857388007041noreply@blogger.com