I should have refilled my coffee before undertaking this post.
I am not okay, I am not okay with the fact that I should be hugely pregnant and uncomfortable and miserable and complaining about heartburn and being tired and dreading 3am feedings and the undertaking of cloth diapers.
Instead I am empty and heartbroken and it’s just not getting any better, it’s getting worse coming up to my April Fool’s due date. Which is truly ironic now on so many levels. I feel like a fool for thinking I could do another baby at this age and with this body. I feel like that date was given to fool us in to being happy when whoever or whatever created that little life in me knew Rex wouldn’t ever make it that far.
And we joked about it, joked about how it was fitting for the 2 of us.
I don’t want to go back to work right now and I don’t want to be asked about it anymore. I have enjoyed being with my family instead of a random few hours here and there, 20 minutes before school or if I was lucky an evening a couple of times a week. I have always, and will continue I am sure, had the struggle of being a stay at home mom and being worth something. Since I have been home there have been some marked changes that I can’t ignore; Tyler hasn’t had any trouble at school with bullying, he is handling conflict the correct way & not immediately going on the defensive and escalating conflict in situations, he is getting his homework done without fighting, he is actually focused better in class and we are hearing good feedback from his teachers. He is vocalizing his feelings, trying to sympathize with each of our feelings when he recognizes them. Sadie isn’t nearly as moody, grumpy, mean, bossy. Trevor has just been happier all the way around. It makes a difference to know that physically I will be here when they need me instead of wondering if they can get me on the phone while I am working, and what can I do from there to fix whatever the problem is. They love and adore Josh but just like all families, they need their Momma. The arguing, fighting over menial things, pushing Josh & I to the brink of explosion with their not listening or respecting what we are asking, and both of us being exhausted, all of those things have pretty much disappeared. Now it’s just dealing with the emotions of the last 3 weeks. Prior to that I was so happy to see the difference my being home was having on our household. Now I am starting to see it again instead of feeling like I had lost my purpose for being here when I lost Rex.
My kids had me every single day for their entire lives, 13+ years, until their dad and I separated. Then he withdrew from us completely; physically, emotionally, financially. I was ready to work to support my family and I did the best I could before Josh & I married. Both of us working was good financially, his new job pays more and while it does mean more hours working for Josh, he is loving it. The satisfaction and gratification he is getting from providing his family with a house, food, transportation, good health, clean & sober living, keep him motivated & happy. Things I always considered basic needs but have come to think of as luxuries after not having our own for over a year.
This is how I feel today, right now.
Yesterday I spent a few hours out in the front yard exploring the garden beds that I hadn’t had the opportunity to check out since we moved in at the start of winter. When I was pregnant I had visions of gardening with the baby on the porch in his bouncy seat, or wearing him close to my chest snuggled up in a sling. While I enjoyed the beautiful spring gardening yesterday morning it left me once again feeling empty inside. There is a lot that needs to be done to the yard, the house, that we just couldn’t get to when we were both working full time, random days & hours for me. Then again, I was pregnant trying to be a good girl and take it easy so I wasn’t out ripping climbing vines out of trees and overgrown garden beds. I painted my sewing table the last day that I *know* Rex was alive and kicking and the guilt over using paint with fumes and contorting myself to paint a piece of furniture that I couldn’t move or lift safely eats at me. I know it didn’t hurt him, I know it didn’t contribute to his death but still, it was something that was SO NOT important for me to do and I did it anyway instead of being extra careful in the last month.
That’s all I had left, 3-4 weeks and home free.
Josh woke me up at 4 am this morning miserable. He had a rough day yesterday, on edge, frustrated and his mouth got the better of him. Like me, he has a tendency to let his tongue fly when he’s upset. Sarcastic remarks, always the last word, teasing the kids just a tad too harshly. He is never loud or angry. Me, I am just straight out mean, not so much playing with my words. He felt remorseful for how he had acted (even before the kids went to bed he was sure to apologize to each of them) and once he woke me early this morning and I started listening, he let all emotions flow. We laid in bed holding each other, voicing our fears, regrets, sadness over what we could or should have done differently while we had Rex with us.
There is that logical side to each of us that tells us we did nothing wrong. Then there is the emotional side that says we must have done something, if not physically then maybe it’s retribution for past transgressions, maybe we wouldn’t have been able to give him a good enough life or be good enough parents and so it’s better that he was taken from us now.
I love him, I want him, I want my baby boy. I wanted to go through labor and hear him, see his eyes, feel him squirm. But that is not what we received. Instead we received a perfect son that can never be harmed by this world, by us his imperfect parents that love him so completely. No matter how hard we would have tried we could not have kept him safe from anything in this life just like our parents can’t keep us from this pain and agony we are feeling right now.
Physically you look at me, my body, and would never know that I should be 40 weeks pregnant but delivered my baby 3 weeks ago. I am thin, nothing left to show I was just pregnant, even the boobs are almost gone. Josh gets a little upset with me when I say I “should” be a certain way, I am just the way I should be.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
No matter how much I close my eyes and beg to go back and change it I can’t. I don’t get a do-over.