I've been trying to analyze this mind-boggling fear that cripples me sometimes, oftentimes. It seems that I need help... I probably do. Yet, I fear that if I do get help, if my fear lessens just one tiny bit, it will be enough to cause $#!t to happen again. Yes, it's not logical.
There is nothing logical in the death of a perfectly healthy baby either.
There are two parts two my fear.
One is the Fear of Death of my Child. This is a big one. The silent scream at the realisation, the world spinning as life as we know it ends. The end...
Two is the Fear of Life After. That scary, awful, brutally painful place, it scares me as much as the first fear. The helplessness, the misunderstandings, the platitudes, the millions of others who have what we lost...
Last night we stayed up all night watching Wiggles sleep, just to make sure we'll make it to through the next day, just to make sure he will live. Just in case. Yes, I'm tired and sleep deprived, I've been staying up for close to seven months now, making sure. Still, it's so much better than the other option...
I guess Fear is my best friend and my best enemy these days.
Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers
13 Jun 2013
2 Jun 2013
Fear.
After dinner, as usual, I went to put Wiggles to bed. We co-sleep, so I nurse and hug him until he falls asleep in our family bed and then sneak out.
Sometimes it takes almost an hour, sometimes just minutes. Today it was very fast.
Sneaking out of our bedroom, I was excited that I get to have dessert before 9pm. I went to the kitchen and made us some ice cream with fresh fruit. Then I went to check in on Wiggles, as I always do. When I opened the bedroom door, he was laying on his back, one arm up above his head, quiet, silent, almost pale, his mouth open... Mouth open the same way as Amelia's mouth was open... It was just hanging open every time we moved her.
Cold sweat rolled over my whole body, yet I knew he was alive - his chest was moving. I'm like an eagle and can spot that movement in the dark, from far away. Yet my brain just didn't believe it, his mouth was open and he looked so pale...
He just looked ...
I feel like I live in fear, all the time. I can't help it, and I'm afraid that if I do, something will happen.
Sometimes it takes almost an hour, sometimes just minutes. Today it was very fast.
Sneaking out of our bedroom, I was excited that I get to have dessert before 9pm. I went to the kitchen and made us some ice cream with fresh fruit. Then I went to check in on Wiggles, as I always do. When I opened the bedroom door, he was laying on his back, one arm up above his head, quiet, silent, almost pale, his mouth open... Mouth open the same way as Amelia's mouth was open... It was just hanging open every time we moved her.
Cold sweat rolled over my whole body, yet I knew he was alive - his chest was moving. I'm like an eagle and can spot that movement in the dark, from far away. Yet my brain just didn't believe it, his mouth was open and he looked so pale...
He just looked ...
I feel like I live in fear, all the time. I can't help it, and I'm afraid that if I do, something will happen.
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