When I was twenty-three I got involved with a man who was needless to say, less than ideal. I was not in love I was lonely. He was good-looking, charming and most of all abusive. This post however is not about him. It is about the result of the damage he left behind. Shortly into our very whirlwind drama (romance being too kind of a word) I got pregnant.
Then I had no idea. I was drinking a lot, going through manic depressions and smoking a lot of pot while popping as many pills as I could, to stomach that I had indeed become my mother. So to say that I was not listening to my body would be an understatement.
When I finally told my friend A, that I thought I may be pregnant she did what all kind supportive friends do, she said simply "I'll believe it when I see it".
A few weeks went by and nothing really happened so I figured I must just be late, I did not stop to think more about it at the time...until I miscarried. One night after sex I started to bleed heavily, he told me that it was just my period, calmed me down and held me tight so I couldn't do what I knew I should have done, which was call 911.
So there I sat while he groped me, pretending to care knowing I was having a miscarriage, knowing my child was dying inside of me...I did nothing. I wasn't afraid I know how awful this sounds but I wasn't scared of losing my son as far as I was concerned he was already dead, there would be no saving him. Later I realized this reaction was shock more so then ambivalence. Now I realize when it was happening most of all I was simply sad.
He and I discussed what happened that night once, when he came to apologize to me during his step 9...until I brought it up at which point he laughed and I walked away.
Since then I have discussed this with a handful of people, rarely saying more than I was once pregnant and lost my son. I don't discuss it, I don't dwell on it and most importantly I do not think about it....until today. Mommy blogs, I love them and I can't get enough of them.
They make me laugh cry and dance for joy when the writers I love go through something wonderful. Today's posts were different, because you see my lovelies, today's posts were about going back to school. The joys, fears, struggles and comedy of the first day back (or in some cases first week back). It has been six long years of fighting my addiction, finding my spirituality and knowing that it is okay to be sad, hurt and angry I do not have my son.
It has been a hard fight, and while I know I am stronger for it, today I broke down. For the first time in ages I cried and I felt shattered and broken. Today for the first time in ages, I realized I will not see my son take his first steps, or speak his first words. I will not see my son learn to tie his shoes or suck on a lemon. I will not walk him to school this week, his first week of kindergarten. I will not do any of these things because my son is gone.
A well-meaning friend said to me today "would you have been able to take care of him?" probably not but I would have tried. Another who I no longer speak to once said "consider yourself lucky, no diapers, no being strapped for cash"
No, I did not lovely readers punch her in the face though I wanted to. Today is a day of sadness, because today I realized it is the sixth year anniversary of the loss of my son. I have no idea how I remember that, or how my body seems to feel that loss as if it were yesterday but every year on August 30th I am alone, the stomach cramps start even though there is no blood and my emotions are in turmoil. Normally I would chalk this up to being my period, but I know in my heart it is not, it is my son calling out to me.
There are so many if's, so many could be's would be's and should be's. None of them matter, all that matters is today my son would be six years old if I had just lived life differently.
So to that end today for the first time in my life I swear to my unborn child that from here on out, I will live my life for him. I will live happy and clean, I will remain strong and allow myself to feel when I need to instead of blocking it out, so that I never sink into the same hole I was in six years ago.
For Conner I will be strong.
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