Faith, Sex and my Dead Baby

“Why don’t you go to church anymore, is it because you don’t believe in God?” My answer was ‘when my baby died I found it very hard to be around babies and people who didn’t know what to say to me.’ her reply “oh yeah, I’m sorry I forgot”.

People do forget, people wonder why they don’t see you often. People wonder if my faith in God has gone. I very much believe in God, I have more faith since Rosie died. Don’t get me wrong when Rosie did die I didn’t want to believe in God, I didn’t want to believe that God let this happen to our baby. I was angry and believe me I told him so, I begged God to bring my baby back to build her back up from the ashes to just answer why she died. To give me some hope, I beg for the pain to stop. For the world to stop hurting me. The way I’m writing this may seem to you as though God is cruel, as though he doesn’t exist but think of this.. There is hope. There is hope that from this deep abyss there will come the greatest glory. If you believe in God you will know that we don’t get what we want we get what we need. Things don’t make sense until you look back when all the things you went through were to strengthen you or to prepare you or to help others. I think I will always look back and wonder why Rosie died, why God let her die, because he did, he let it happen. As much as I don’t want to think that the most admirable and wondrous force took my daughter away from me he did and that hurts but its for reasons I don’t know why. I can only try and soften the blow by thinking Rosie was saved, saved from years of pain and illness or something worse. This is just my way of thinking, I understand lots of people feel angry with God and you know I’m still angry with him but I still love God, I still live my life knowing that he knows what is best for me and knowing that to him I am a princess and worth all of his royalties. These times have felt like I’ve been going from bad to worse, what could I be being prepared for? My husband and I barely have a marriage, oh we love each other so much don’t be mistaken by that but we argue a lot, we struggle to spend time together, we don’t date mainly because of money issues, we don’t find romance and our sex life well that goes up and down. If I told you six times a month I’d be lying that was just one month in the past six. Thinking about making love and being in the mood for it are different things, sometimes we can’t stop thinking about death or pain or all these worries we have. You may think I’m divulging too much but I believe that someone else is going through this too and may need to hear that they aren’t the only ones. Can you think about sex and not associate it to babies and then death? It takes a lot of training your thoughts to stop bringing these thoughts together. Making love is what you need, you don’t need to feel loved by using sex, it doesn’t work. You don’t want to have sex to make babies, you don’t want to think of yourself as the vessel that brought a dead baby into the world. I felt like I was death in form. As though my womb was useless and poisonous. Some times I’m scared because I don’t want to bring death to anyone else. Some times I feel disgusting, useless, unworthy of my husband because I brought our baby into the world dead. I think if you focus on making another baby after one has died sex becomes machinery, baby making. You need romance, to stop associating negativity with the intimacy two people can share in a magnifiscent way.
My husband and I don’t have a home of our own, we don’t have money, infact because we live with my mum we’ve gotten her into thousands of debt in just six months. So now I have the guilt of my mums debt for us, my husband working 40 hours a week for barely £200 and me with nothing, no job, no baby, no home, no help, just worries and pain and frustation. Am I angry with God? Yes, who would be in this situation and not be angry? Who wouldn’t just say to him Give us miracles and prove you’re here? I’m not. I thank him every day for the wonderful things he’s bringing to us, if I don’t remember love and hope what else do I dwell on? Negativity. I don’t want to be negative, life is what you do not what has happened to you. If I lived forever in negativity I’d just be asking for bad things to happen, be thankful for the days that will come to you for the path you’ll make for yourself, you may even get something good from it. Listen I hate being positive when I have nothing good in my life except my husband but if I lost him I’d have nothing so why wouldn’t I be thankful and happy to have him? There is something you have that is positive and in the future you’ll have more of those somethings to be positive.

Losing a baby takes away your future for a while but its time to realise that you still have a future a different one but it could be a good one.

She’s Looking At You Kid

It’s been a long time since my last post. I’ve been very weak, I’ve barely been able to carry on with life over the past few weeks. Things just suddenly became hard and unreal again.

“What has the hardest part of Rosie’s death been?” is what a friend asked me. I didn’t know what to reply with, did I say the week that Rosie died or the week after, now? I couldn’t put it into different difficulties, it’s all been just as hard. Every moment I remember my baby is dead I have to try and stop myself from thinking in order to stop the pain. The pain doesn’t get any easier, you think it will, you see people living with grief and think that they don’t feel the pain any more. I replied with “the hardest time was when I still had to give birth to Rosie knowing that she was dead” but as I look back that was the easy part, i’d love to feel Rosie again, have her physically with me, now I feel nothing, sometimes I forget i’m a mummy. I have all of these natural instincts in me that are wasted, every time I hear a new born baby cry my body yearns and screams. I feel a physical pull urging me to protect my baby but it isn’t my baby I hear cry. I find myself not only looking but staring at heavily pregnant women wishing it was still me and Rosie, I watch mothers with their babies cooing over them, feeding them, checking they are okay. I see women stop prams to look at the contents with smiles and laughter, I don’t just look I stare and I know that i’m doing it I just can’t stop myself. I went to a friend’s house so that I could mix with people i knew which is a scary thing, I still won’t see or speak to my own family. They had someone there with a baby girl a few months probably Rosie’s age had she of lived, I watched people make funny faces, play and giggle with her. My heart, wow, my heart stopped. That should be my baby. I knew then that I will find every day and every situation hard. I didn’t go back the next week because I felt so hurt by it that it had weakened me. Gradually I have become weaker, I have stopped seeing children I know that like me, such as my nephews I won’t go to a place if I think they’ll be there. I have these motherly instincts that are for Rosie but somehow I find myself being looked up to by other kids. It feels so wrong to me, I’m Rosie’s mum no one else’s so I have avoided children and family and friends. I started to only go out at night time so there were less people around, now its summer people are everywhere whatever time it may be so i’m being pushed to go out. I still live in the same area where every one knows i’m the mum to a dead baby, I get looks and nods and sympathy half smiles. I have very few meaningful friends that want to spend time with me, I think i’m more of a party pooper now, here comes the dead baby lady. I went back a few weeks later to my friends house, I had a particularly hard week, I just didn’t want to be here any more I began to say “I give up” that was the day I told my husband how bad I was feeling, I told him I can’t live in this pain any more. I have joyous times, you’ll always see me smiling despite the pain I feel but you see i’m unhappy, i’m lost, i’m still in this black pit and the light I see above me is fading. The evening at a friends I walked in and cried, I was at the end, no more could I live with the pain. My husband helped me calm down and paint a smile back on so I engrossed myself in conversation talking and enjoying hearing about other peoples problems, to talk about other peoples problems is such a mighty relief it takes my mind off my pain and hurt. I got on with someone I have never really had a deep conversation with before, I thought that I was making a friend that would actually be a friend it gave me a sense of hopefulness. And then I found out from a piece of paper saying “_ and _’s baby will be my best friend” I thought this was a joke, I actually laughed thinking no one would leave this around for me to find if it was true. I took the paper to this friend and found out she was pregnant. At that moment my heart fell out of my mouth onto the floor and was crushed by the falling of my hopefulness. This is what lead to me nearly killing myself. Again. My husband hugged this friend and congratulated her, I felt as though he had betrayed me, I felt like he was happier to see their pregnancy than he was for ours. I didn’t remember how happy Andrew was when we found out we were pregnant I just automatically thought that he had betrayed me and Rosie. I barely kept it together for the next ten minutes before we left and then when we  made our way home I started to deteriorate. I was thinking about what happened, how I found out, how Andrew reacted how betrayed and let down I was by friends and my husband. It kindled in my head and then at home it burst into ferocious flames, I lost myself. I couldn’t move from the bus when it was our stop, the bus driver was patient as Andrew had to drag me off, I didn’t want to go home, my baby should be there but she wasn’t. I couldn’t face the torment again. Constantly comparing my losses to the friends gains, they have two great jobs, money, a beautiful house, friends that stick by them, a car, loving family and now a healthy pregnancy and soon a baby. We have a dead daughter, living in a small flat with my mum because we can’t afford our own place, my husband earns just over minimum wage, I earn nothing because every job I go for I’m not right for. No benefits or help from the government, living on £50 a week for two. Why do we have nothing when other people seem to have the world and much more. If any one deserves a break its us but no we get to find out this news in such a harsh way. It bubbled into volcanic lava spewing out of me, I collapsed to the floor which was the middle of a road and I screamed and cried, I had no control over my actions, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk all I could do was scream and cry on my knees in the middle of a road. As I fell to the floor my husband tried to catch me but couldn’t, He then sat in front of me holding me tight trying to get me to move. People came to see if they should call 999, cars came and stopped because I blocked the way, I just couldn’t move an inch. screaming so loudly at 10pm in the middle of traffic I almost got my husband arrested. I was there for at least twenty minutes before I could move. Andrew lead me home, my body was so weak, everything started to shut down, I couldn’t talk, could barely think. I hardly even knew where I was going. I don’t remember getting inside or sitting down, I must have been sobbing and screaming slumped on the sofa for half an hour, I couldn’t even close my mouth so I had fluid all down my clothes. Then I got the strength to go to the kitchen and get a knife, I took a chefs carving knife and held it against my wrist keeping my veins prisoner. I didn’t want to kill myself I didn’t plan it I just saw it and wanted to scare myself back into reality, I held the knife strong against my skin. Andrew followed me and took the knife away from me with the most hatefully loving look I have ever seen, he embraced me and walked me over to the sofa and held me tightly again, my mind woke up, I couldn’t talk still I just kept mouthing words to him looking into his angry loving eyes. After lots of attempts the words started making sounds, the words I chose summed up everything I was feeling and struggling with “my baby’s dead” over and over with passion and terror I kept saying it. Every time I said those words they meant something different but that’s all I could say. The lava that spewed out of my mind took over every part of me, had I not have gotten the energy to scare myself I believe I would have given up and stopped. I still haven’t put myself together I feel angry, betrayed, lost, I feel useless and unworthy of anything good. If anyone needs blesseings in life I do, we do. And I bloody well expect millions of blessings to come to us now. If you feel like this about anything you should expect blessings too.

Our ocean of blessings is coming, so we’re learning how to swim.