Monday, September 5, 2011

Caught Between Worlds

Our "fortunes" from dinner on Saturday.
I am caught between two worlds.  One in which I read the newspaper and check out the horoscopes not only for Scott and myself, but for my little Capricorn, too.  I think of him whenever anyone discusses missing someone/ feeling left behind/ lost loved ones/ loss of any kind/ tragedy/ un-flailing love/ being a mother/ the worst thing ever/ the best thing everanything really... It doesn't even have to be the littlest bit related to our situation, or rather his... But my mind goes there, as through to interpret peoples "take" or suggestions, as though they are speaking directly about Jack. I still prepare for future babies by buying things in an optimistic manner (aka, if we don't have boy/girl twins, I will be entirely over prepared for the next several pregnancies). He is both my very first, and my very last, thought of the day. I miss him. I am so grateful for him. I wish he was here every.single.day.... So much so.

In the other world, I still continue on life as a wife. I make dinners (um, from frozen...), I meet with friends, complain about work, I cry at weddings, and laugh at movies. I plan extravagant renovations, obsess over home decor I would love to have in my forever home (but not this one, as though this one doesn't deserve nice things?). I plan to stop eating like crap (see aforementioned frozen food), start exercising *but I hate it so much*, and make a better life for us. I think about what life with children might be like as though it is a foreign concept to me... Because I should know, and yet I don't.

I think what Scott would be like as a father, as the situations he was able to experience with Jack were so severely limited. I think of what it might be like to have Christmas with our children shrieking as they rip open boxes and toss wrapping paper everywhere. I see people interact with their children and think, "I would never", "I totally would", or "that woman is an animal". I dream of reading stories to my children every night, and of recounting their days: "what they ate, who they saw, what they did, and what we're doing tomorrow" as I tuck them into bed.

I'm caught between a world where my life revolves around my son. My son. My son.  The one who is no longer with me in body, but fucking right he's with me in spirit... I'm caught between there and the world I still want to explore. The person I still want to be, despite all of this. Despite all of my broken-hearted-"ness". I know at some point the two worlds will collide- a day when it's okay to simultaneously long for my boy, but cherish the family I WILL have... I wonder when this might be? A year after we lost him? Two years? After we have our next baby? The one after that?

Because one day, just maybe, we could be happy?

9 comments:

Kelly said...

I feel ya. I wanna be happy and get excited for the same things, but there's this whole other world of sadness. I feel like I'm living two lives--the front I put on to the outside and the one I feel inside.

Tiffany said...

I'm with you and Kelly. I see my life as a before and after. Sometimes I live in the before and try to pretend that it's all ok. Other times it's in the after. Reality. Which I hate.

JoyAndSorrow said...

Totally right there with you, and approaching 9 months, more time with Elias gone than I've had with him HERE, I feel I'm ready for those two worlds to merge...But I fear it will be years until they do. ~Lindsay

Addi's mom said...

Right there with ya!

Tiffany said...

my god. this post gave me chills. it felt like you took the thoughts right out of my head. i wonder this often too.

Renel said...

I too am living this CAUGHTNESS~ I live and laugh and have joy but then there is Camille. I think "I hate 2011" but my son turned two and being pregnant for almost my entire 34th year was magical and lovely and I really enjoyed it (unlike my pregnancy with my son) and so how do I regret that. I wish Camille wasn't wrapped up in so much sadness. I want to be happy, but I am sad. I am happy and I am sad. I am more sad than I am happy. I hate that. I have SO much to be happy for. I hope the feeling spectrum shifts to more happy than sad. I also feel like everyone and everything I hear is about Camille. Maybe it is our way of searching for them~ anywhere...XXOO love to you

Caroline said...

this was a damn good post.

I think it comes and goes. And just as always, it takes time. I remember the first time I smiled and laughed after Cale died and I felt SO guilty. And it then took awhile to feel ok doing that again. And eventually it didn't feel foreign. I remember someone telling me when I went back to work "it's good to see you smile again" and I was almost pissed at myself for smiling - like I'm not allowed to be anything but a grieving, miserable mess. Having Finley has been so wonderful, but it is still hard - and certainly was when we first brought him home. On one hand you love everything in your life, but you also love what's missing and that's just hard to sort out.

And for the record, I think I always will look at other parents, mothers in particular, and be judging McJudgerson.

brianna said...

"I know at some point the two worlds will collide- a day when it's okay to simultaneously long for my boy, but cherish the family I WILL have..."

I'm experiencing this collision right now. It is difficult, for sure. The two things seem impossibly separate at times and then at others they make sense together. You love Jack and always will. That would not change if he were still living and you had another child. A second child doesn't diminish the love for the first, I'm learning this myself. Your heart expands and stretches and you find that you can be happy and sad simultaneously. Actually, I think that is a permanent state of being for the baby-loss. We are (or eventually will be) happy-sad.

Hugs to you.

little vitu's mom said...

I so very well connect with this. I find this strange, and sometimes it still feels like a bad dream. Somewhere I have still not come into terms with this and seem like a normal person. It's a bit scary in a sense sometimes I wonder - am I losing my mind slowly?

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