Wednesday, July 18, 2012

If I could just punch a hole in the wall...

Late into the night as I lay staring at the mirror that makes up my closet doors, I felt such anger. Overwhelming, all encompassing, anger. Black clouds of lightning striking, hair whipping in the storm anger. My husband's shoulder pressed against my back, his leg thrown over mine, hip pressed into me. His heat sucking the life right out of me in that moment. As I pushed him away for what seemed the fiftieth time, a realization hit me square in the brain: my ahha moment for the year. My loss of Braedon is so tied into my emotions.

I do often think of Braedon when I am just watching television or doing some mundane task like washing the dishes but it is the heavier emotions that really pull him in. In here is really the only place I get to talk about Braedon. Out here there is no one to talk to except the husband. He is fighting his own battles right now so our conversations are limited. His grief at the moment is heavier as my focus has to be on this new little and I find my time to sit and cry limited to what it has been in the past. With my focus pulled away from him, the husband spends more time sitting out on the porch getting lost in his cigarettes and dark thoughts.

When I yell at my kids for not listening, when I cry over the thought of my Grandmother passing or finding another blog about a lost baby, whatever the trigger is in these moments that Braedon is with me the strongest. I think in the beginning I avoided heavy bouts of emotion, leaving just enough room to cry for him. Now, I find myself allowing the waves to roll in. He comes with them.

My anger last night of losing space on my bed, desperately needing sleep. I feel it so deep, boiling in the pit of my stomach. I could hit something. This is not an action I normally take. I want to punch a hole in the wall. Honestly, last night as I lay there I wanted to punch my husband, feeling as if his presence was reducing my ability to get past the anger and get some rest. Since hitting is not an option, I have to just suck it all back in.

Lately I have been having this weird tingling sensation around my stomach. Not deep in my stomach but somewhere in the middle. It is not an unpleasant feeling, but bothersome because of its unnatural occurrence. I think it has something to do with my emotions. I will be running errands, doing nothing of importance and then there it is. As I was driving home yesterday evening from dinner out, the feeling hit me again. I want to put my finger on it. What is making this occur? Lack of sleep, something.. I am just not sure. Perhaps anxiety. I will be returning to work in a few weeks. I want to return to work, I want to stay home. I want to focus on my career, I want to focus on my children. I want to spend time in my room on my bed holding an urn and letting it all flow in, I want to put it all away and stop being sad. Maybe this constant changing thought process is doing something to my body.

I am tired, I lack sleep. I need sleep and it is not getting better. I don't know what I am trying to say here. I feel confused and lost and hell I am angry. That it is what it all boils down to. I am just so pist off that I even have to write here. I hate that my son died, I hate the doctor who didn't save him. I hate myself for being passive in my care. And dammit I hate that I feel so angry that the baby in my arms was born early because of medical intervention. Braedon could have survived. He should have survived. I love this baby with every bit of me, I am so grateful, so very very very grateful. This new baby has brought me something that I needed but in his birth it becomes even more real that Breadon could have been saved. I know I could not have one without the loss of the other but it still hurts.

When I was 38 weeks pregnant with Braedon, the doctor called the hospital to appeal to them to allow for induction. Induction prior to 39 weeks is against policy. The hospital denied his appeal. Braedon died 5 days later.. just a few days shy of 39 weeks.

I am not sure if I need to relax, meditate, calm my thoughts or maybe I need to take up kick boxing. Perhaps I really should just punch a hole in the wall.


  1. I still have the anger- oh so many mistakes, all so unfair. I miss Jack so much, I am fighting the waves of heavy grief and anger but I know once Severus is born they will wash over me like a tidal wave. xo

  2. Oh the anger! It is so hard to manage...I just have to ride the wave for it to pass. I have the type that is not necessarily well placed or rational. Daryl I think gets the brunt of it. I can't believe that about your doctor being denied your access to an bizzare. That would make me FURIOUS! Save your hand, don't punch anything...maybe go to a class or break something....but not your hand.

  3. The angry days are so rough. Wishing you some peaceful, healing sleep.

  4. I hate the rage - it's so hard to know what to do with it. Typing furiously doesn't quite hit the mark does it? I'm afraid I think a lot of my anger comes out in snippy comments at John... I never used to be like that with him and I hate myself for it, but the anger needs an outlet. I guess I should try to find a healthier way...