Today I was helping a friend at work with a training session for student teachers, sitting in the shared area cutting up pieces of paper for our bookmaking workshop. A middle leaders course was happening concurrently in the training room opposite and whilst I was measuring bits of card and desperately trying not to break the guillotine, one of the people on the course came out to go to the loo. BOOM! Pregnant tummy IN YOUR FACE!
It was like being punched in the stomach whilst simultaneously having my throat twisted. The gasping sobs were lurking and my eyes pricked. I breathed through it without actually crying but the awkwardness of trying to create actual answers to questions was beyond me. By the time of the staff meeting, after some cheeky chain smoking, I'd pulled myself together but even the smokers' shed is a bit of a minefield at the moment with one of our members of staff also currently being pregnant. Earlier, during break-time, the colleague in question was there chatting to another about her pregnancy- there is no escape.
So utterly ridiculous. I don't live their lives. I don't know what they've been through. It's not as if people wear badges detailing everything that they've experienced during their existence.
The pain I feel is real though. It's a whole bag of emotions swooshing around in my belly, ready to explode at any point. It's almost crippling at times. The tears are always there. I want my babies back. I want to still be pregnant or already be a mummy. I want to be attending those midwife appointments. I want my belly to be growing and be staring at it everyday. Seeing someone else with something that is bordering obsession for you is a killer.
It is a bit more than feeling low, possibly depression but I'll get through it. I've done it before. The deputy head brought up going to see a counselor (I was going to see one to get me through the pregnancy without turning into a complete psychopath) but all the other times that I have gone to see one, I have had a clear idea of what I am working towards. Stopping cutting. Stopping throwing up. Stopping beating myself up (ahem!). This time...? It's not something that I can mend through a course or two of CBT. What would I be aiming for? Psychotherapy cannot magic you a baby.
So a bit of a bad day. It started quite hilariously though- ripped my leggings on the way into work, dropped the coffee jar- destroyed the lid, split coffee over my clothes and almost tipped my coffee over one of the children's tables (it was freezing so no reason to lose my job).
A lovely part of today was receiving a message from a complete stranger on the blog. A beautiful message about their own loss and experiences. It's the magic of the internet when a friend of a friend of a friend, comments on your blog! I don't want this to be a means of just catharsis for me but I found that when I went looking for a similar type of blog, I couldn't find many other than the odd entry here and there. Whenever a child is timid about asking a question in class, I always remind them that if they are thinking it, it's likely that others are thinking the same. Personal experience has found swathes of religious imagery, talking about the babies as being angels but nothing that really deals with it. For me, that doesn't resonate. I love mythology, some of the religious stories (that aren't completely horrendous) and I almost wish I could take comfort in the belief that there was some other higher power or reason for being, who would be watching for me and caring but that isn't me and I'm sure that there are many others out there who feel the same.
This blog isn't just being written for me. I am writing it for every other woman who has wept for a lost baby.
1 comment:
oh lovely ...........I hope that even writing this is in some way helping you or moving you forward to a place you want or need to be ......you have such passion with your words and even though it is heartbreaking to read it is beautiful too x I wish you everything you would want for yourself x
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