Thursday, February 3, 2011

On Distractions

I realize this reads somewhat incoherently, but I'm kind of a "write as I think, and do it quickly before I forget" kinda gal...

Every now and then I find myself so overwhelmed with grief that I begin hysterically crying. I try to save this moments for when I'm home, alone, as not to terrify my husband. I allow myself a solid 2 minutes of uncontrollable sobbing, crying out for Jack, and asking why before I pull myself together.

Sometimes it's harder to calm down than others. I have a few distractions I implement to help me catch my breath. I look at the beautiful photos I have of him, and I watch the videos I have. One in particular, where my husband is filming Jack the morning after he was born. He is swaddled (my husband's newly acquired baby skill) up tightly and my husband is filming him from above. It's the only video we have where Jack's eyes are open wide. I laugh at one point because Jack looks off to the side, and to me it looks like he's giving the camera a big eye roll. It's as though he is thinking, "you people with the camera are ridiculous". The clip is about a minute or so long, but it seems to do the job.

In the times where I'm not quite as desperate, I am able to think back on the happy times with him, though they were so short and few indeed. I am so thankful for the few nights we had together, he and I, where I just sang to him and told him we love him. These were the nights where he refused to sleep anywhere other than my arms. I tried to tuck him under one arm, while he was elevated on a pillow, so that I too might get some sleep. Jack wasn't all that interested in a well-rested mother- he was far more concerned with getting a lot of snuggling in, and as such insisted on his body touching mine at all times.

I remember the one bath I gave him while he was home with us (there was only time for one bath...) and he absolutely hated it. The little guy was not a fan of being naked, and because of this his bath was very quick. I used the Burt's Bees Baby shampoo/body wash and he smelled delicious. Even days later, when he was in the NICU at SickKids, I could smell the sweet scent on him. These days, I use the body wash myself as part of my bathing routine. I use it as the final part of my shower, so that the scent will linger with me throughout the day.

In my day-to-day life, I try to find things to occupy my time. Before I became pregnant with Jack, I was obsessed with all things home decor. My husband and I bought our first house together back in 2006 when we finished school and our "adult" jobs moved us to Toronto from Waterloo. We had a plan to be in & out of living in Toronto in 3-5 years. That brings us to our pregnancy, and our plans to find a country home outside of the city to settle into and raise our family. We had plans to move at some point this year to a home suitable for raising a growing family and somewhere with space more bountiful than this bungalow.

Since losing Jack, we have continued looking, and have gone out to see a couple of them as well. We get excited about them, and the future when we check out the 3 or 4 bedrooms we can fill with kids. We talk about the grand renovations we would do (you would think after 5 steady years of kitchen renovations, digging out and finishing a basement, adding a bathroom we would be all renovated out, but no!) to make the houses perfectly us. At night though, when the lights are off and my husband is snoring, I wonder whether it seems presumptuous to buy a house with all these rooms to fill. Would we still feel the same way about the house/location/land if there were no kids to hope for? Are we stupid to go through all the trouble of moving, and then adding in the additional commute in anticipation of a family we might not have? If Jack were still with us, then we could go ahead and move, justifying that we were "doing it for Jack", to make sure he was in a great school board... But now, without him, I wonder whether this is all just a great big distraction.

It feels like maybe we're putting the cart before the horse on wanting to move, that maybe we should wait to fall pregnant with #2, and then maybe look while we're pregnant... but it breaks my heart to know, however unlikely, that even then you can't count your chickens before they hatch... Nor can you count them even when they're in your coop. But then, we've waited before, we've done everything "right" and "by the book" and what on Earth do we keep waiting for?

1 comments:

Dana said...

"Every now and then I find myself so overwhelmed with grief that I begin hysterically crying. I try to save this moments for when I'm home, alone, as not to terrify my husband. I allow myself a solid 2 minutes of uncontrollable sobbing, crying out for Jack, and asking why before I pull myself together."

Me too. The sobbing comes, I end up on the floor crying, then I pull myself together because I don't want Ted to find me that way. He once said to me that he will never understand what I'm going through because he didn't carry Jacob, didn't feel him kick and didn't give birth to him. Then he said that I will never understand what he has been through. Not only did he lose his son, but he lost a piece of his wife as well. There were days when he worried himself sick that I would fall into a deep depression and never again be close to the person I was before. There were times that he was terrified that he couldn't get a hold of me, worried that I might have done something to myself.

I love that you use Bert's Bees in the shower, just to have his scent on you. It breaks my heart too.

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