Jensen loved going out in public. When I would walk through places with a bunch of people, he would kick to every different voice. Then he’d fall asleep within fifteen minutes because he was my lazy, little boy. Every time I went out though, he would perk up and listen. We went to the doctors a lot. He’d get bored of their same voices; I think he knew I was annoyed of the doctors and all their bad news. He always tried to cheer me up though; he may have been a lazy butt, but he knew his kicks made his momma feel better.
I always thought this was his “silly” face ultrasound or like he was super excited the camera was on him. He would be giving me the thumbs up today. Such a happy, little baby.
Today I needed his kicks to make me feel better. I ventured of into the “real world,” more like the comfort of my house. It’s been a day I’ve dreaded for a week: my ‘six’ week postpartum exam. I didn’t think I could take putting myself in a vulnerable situation. What if she said his death was my fault? What if she said I did something wrong? What if she told me I was a bad mom? What if she discarded his life? What if I couldn’t breath because I had a panic attack? All the “what ifs” were adding up and they were dangerous.
I’m sure if Jensen was here, I wouldn’t have dreaded it so much. I’d just be excited to know I was healthy and show off my beautiful boy to everyone in the office. Believe me, I would do anything to be showing him off to everyone if I could. If only I had his kicks to reassure me. Well, now it would have been his little looks towards me. His little blond hair so very different from my dark, brown hair.
Instead I sat in the exam room, telling the doctor my story and crying until my eyes hurt. Not only going through all the details of my pregnancy, but the end. How his heart stopped beating, why it stopped beating, and the silence of birth. I’m sure she’s seen new moms cry happy tears during their six week appointment, I would give anything for that to be me. When she told me I was healthy and all healed up, it didn’t even phase me. So what my body is okay? I might look okay, but I’m in pain every single second of the day. How can I not be in pain? She just said it herself, my baby died. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but when it does it’s all of the sudden.
I can’t complain, my new doctor was amazing. She spent two hours in the exam room listening and answering my “what ifs.” I didn’t do anything wrong and I could not have done anything to prevent this tragedy. She kept telling me how I was a wonderful mom, hearing her call me a mom as much as she did made me feel better. We talked about Jensen and how important he is. Jensen’s life is important and it always will be. He was my child during my pregnancy, birth, and the rest of my life. Not even death can take that away.
Grief sucks. Grief makes me focus on the bad and doubt myself. It tries to steer me away from thinking of all my happy thoughts I had with Jensen and makes me focus on the silence. I’d never wish this grief or loss on anyone. Everyone should have their baby to show off every time they go into public. Yes, it was a bad day of grief. The type of day where I couldn’t catch my breath. Even when I heard ‘good’ news, I couldn’t find the strength to smile.
Jensen would have made me smile. He would’ve loved her asking all about him while he was safe in my belly. I know he would move his head to make sure he could hear her and of course me. He would always move his head when I would talk to him. His kicks would be consistent for about five minutes, until he got bored with all the medical talk.
Jensen would have made today so amazing.
I remember just dreading the 6 week appt so much that I put it off till 8 weeks. Then I went only because I wanted to get Makenna’s autopsy results. My best friend came with me and I knew that I’d be treated differently from the other moms, my file had the telltale butterfly on it, the mark of a baby lost, the same butterfly that was outside my hospital room those days that I was there. I had so much anxiety just walking into the hospital where she was born, I was so thankful for the support. Sending you hugs and love and strength for any hard days ahead.
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I’m glad you had support at the appointment. I couldn’t imagine having to go back to the hospital right now. I probably wouldn’t be able to walk in, you’re much braver than I. And yes, the butterfly. I had a water drop on my door. Either way, I hate feeling different.
Thanks for sending hugs, love, and strength for the hard days. I pray every night for all of our angels and us on this journey through grief.
Thank you for this…I can relate to every sentence.
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