I went to my 6 week postpartum visit to my midwives office on Thursday. I had an anxiety attack that morning before I went. It started with the realization that Chumby may have fleas and how am I supposed to deal with that, it just seemed way too much for me to deal with right then. I was overwhelmed and then I looked around the apt and it was a mess and I thought, how am I supposed to clean, get rid of fleas and go to see the midwives? I took a few deep breaths, cried a little, gave Chris a huge hug and then left. I managed to get there somehow and the anxiety started to creep back as I walked those familiar stairs down to the office. I spent the next hour getting some closure.
I still felt the need to question everything. I think its a female’s innate sense to question over and over until we feel it’s resolved. I don’t think guys do that as much, at least I know Chris didn’t need to at all really. I read everything I could find about shoulder dystocia, asked the midwives over and over about what happened, replayed the scene so many times it was like there was no stop button on the dvd player in my mind.
I have finally come to that place where I no longer need to question. I feel resolved in that I know our decision to have a homebirth was a selfless act in which we thought only of giving our baby the best experience it could possibly have coming into this world. I know that no one is to blame for what happened, not me, not Silas, not the midwives, not the tub, not being at home. It is what it is and I’ve come to terms with it. I will never understand why this happened to us, but I do know there is no magical reason. Shit happens and it happened to us.
Somehow we are now part of this large community of people who have lost their babies. I have been connecting with women who have responded to this blog, to friends of friends, to old friends and women we met at the support group. We are now part of this community that we never even knew existed. They have welcomed us with open arms and hearts. The thing is, I don’t want to be part of this group, I didn’t ask to be one of them but here I am. I talk with women who are 3, 4, 7 and 10 years out and have had subsequent children as well as women who have just lost a child recently like us. With each conversation I gain a little more understanding, for them, for me, for us and for our future.
Some days I feel emotionally drained. I try not to let it consume me each day, but even a few hours of this reality creates this little pain in my temple and jaw and just sits there. Oh we laugh, we pretend we’re normal most of the time. Chris writes about that so frequently these days. Its the only way we can survive. Otherwise we’d still be in bed, 6 weeks later, smelling pretty badly. We get up, we shower (most of the time), we work, we talk, we type, we drive, we eat, we cook, I do my yoga (almost every day!), we rock out on Rock Band, we lay on the couch for hours and we think about Silas. I am getting acupuncture and massages. We are living, we are living the lives of people who have lost a baby.
I can say now that I have progressed from where I was 6 weeks ago. Then I was in a state of shock. Now, only a month and a half out, I am somehow living this reality. I still cry every single day, but I haven’t sobbed in weeks. I am moving myself forward in every way I can. With each new baby born to all the friends in my life who were due this fall like me, I smile for their happiness and cry for my sadness and what I don’t have. I have come such a long way in these 6 weeks, but yet I have a long road ahead of me, that I know.