I had a dream the other night. In my dream, I went to a book signing, and I was waiting in a chair for my turn to get my book signed. There were a lot of people there, and someone was telling people when it was their turn to go and get their stuff signed. I kept waiting, and then I realized that I was still sitting there while others who came in later than me were being told they could go. Then, a woman sat next to me and almost right away, the person in charge indicated that it was her turn and she got up and went. At that point I had enough. I turned to the guy and said "I have been waiting. The lady behind me has been waiting almost as long as me, and that guy has been waiting too. You are letting people go ahead of us and it isn't fair." At that point, the guy just let everyone get up at the same time and go. I think I just wandered off at that point, and I don't think I ever got my stuff signed. Then I woke up.
I am not one for dream analysis, but the big point was that the burning question in my mind was "when will it be my turn?" I have been waiting for my happy baby ending since December 2006 and watched while others got to go ahead of me, even some who came later. It was like an "anvil" dream, not even a crucial plot point and almost like bad TV writing, because it seemed so obvious. But this has been a week of little mental breakthroughs where the wall that I've built between my loss and my life has been passing information though.
I don't want to be "that person" - the one that people are concerned about. It's not the concern that bothers me, per se. Its that people asking about me makes me terribly sad because I hate to be in the place where I am the person that people ask about. I have lived all of my adult life as the person who got by on their own. I've never really asked for help, and I've never needed it. People always assumed that I was ok. That I was the strong one. That I would be fine. And it doesn't seem that people think that anymore. But what hurts the most is that I don't believe that anymore. I am vulnerable because I lost someone that was terribly important to me, and now I want to be pregnant again and there is no guarantee that it will happen or that, if it does happen, that I won't get another tragic outcome. That is really scary. And I am not one who lives life scared. Before, I always knew that I would be ok, even when things really sucked. And I don't believe that anymore. And I never needed it, but I always thought there was a net. And I've found out that there isn't one. And that is really scary.
Shannon - it's your big brother's birthday today. Please send him a hug. We missed you a lot today. We love you. - Mommy
1 comment:
So much in your posts resonates with me. We experienced this, too. Huge cracks and crisis in what I previously believed. Thinking I was somewhat capable, could handle what life dished out, just a belief in living.
But death really shook me to the core. Kota's invisibility shook everything. I wanted to scream 24/7 so people would see him, see my motherhood, understand. But why should I have to scream?
And then it dawned on me how stupid it was that at the moment we need the most support, there is none and we have to become our own advocates. Which is fine, but exhausting.
Anyway, for a long time I could only take things moment by moment, or five minutes by five minutes. Everything else was too much. There just were no answers forthcoming.
Now, at 9.5 years out, the crisis is not so urgent, but I am currently exploring where my beliefs were crushed and where exactly do I stand now? Anyway, all that to say, give yourself lots and lots of time...
And know that it is so normal to be scared after being rocked to the core with the death of your child. That doesn't make it better, I know. But just...well, it's normal and you aren't alone in that...
Sending supportive vibes your way,
k-
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