Sunday, May 20, 2012
We have a busy day ahead of us. I'm trying to write this quickly while J sleeps and B wreaks havoc/tortures the dog.
Last night the birth center where Charlotte was born had a mama's night out for their clients. The birth center has been working on building a group of women who support one another; the online group they created is a wonderful resource, and as summer comes there will be yoga/playgroups/more chances to get together. It's a wonderful thing.
Going to the birth center in May is hard for me, but my neighbor friend who delivered her second with my midwife was going so I went along. It was fun to meet and talk with people I've connected with online, and there were a few sweet babies to cuddle on too. B was in bed, that kid is not nice when he's tired.
The gathering was behind the birth center, in the orchard. The birth center sits on a beautiful piece of land. I'm SO jealous of the midwife who lives there with her family full time.
Even though I was exhausted after a night out I couldn't fall asleep. I thought about the evening, about how hard it is to walk into those situations with my one dead, one living baby. I told my friend I hate being the one who brings down a party with my dead baby. And with it being May there were conversations with the midwives about how I am, how they are, how it is two years later now (I forgot how healing it is for me to see them during this time, to have people who were there remember with me).
I was thinking about that anon person who said I need to move on, stop dwelling over Charlotte's death. You know what? That would be nice. I would love to be a mom who can walk into a situation like last night's with a living baby or two, no dead darling darting among the shadows in my mind. It would be a relief to feel normal, to feel like a mother instead of a grief stricken shadow of a person.
Honestly, I hate knowing I would be a completely different - not necessarily better - parent had Charlotte lived.
I'll never know what it's like to parent without grieving. I'll always have my extra spirit baby no one can see. I'll always have to decide how much, or when, to share. I'll always be the one with the dead baby. It's an awkward cross to bear, it's a strange place to be. I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable with it.
ETA: I think most people are comfortable with me and my story, I just FEEL super awkward about it all.