I don’t know how much more I can take

I don’t even know where to start.

I apologize in advance. This entry will probably be long winded. Full of run on sentences . Disjointed. And absolutely full of self loathing. But today was a nightmare. People over use that word. But today was a true, honest nightmare I mean, I knew when I woke up this morning it would suck. But I had no idea I would feel this incredibly awful. I feel like any gain I’ve made in the past three months has been completely over shadowed.

We got the autopsy results back today.

Walking into the doctors office set the tone. I saw a coworker. She obviously had no idea what had happened (I have no idea how that’s possible). She came up and smiled and asked me how far along I was. I was so utterly dumbfounded that I just replied “I’m not pregnant”. She hugged me and said she was sorry and told me shed been through fertility issues and shed be happy to talk to me any time. She had no Clue. And I was too shocked to respond and tell her what had happened. She walked away and I broke down.

And then we waited in that awful little room. The one where I had all of my prenatal appointments. The one where I heard her heartbeat for the last time. And the silence was deafening. The anxiety thick in the air. The doctor walked in and I held my breath and braced for it.

My only comfort is that Everlee was perfect. She was completely fine. Until she died. There was nothing wrong with her. No chromosomal defect. No disease. She was flawless. Had she been delivered just a few hours earlier I would be holding her right now.

They officially confirmed that it was a placental abruption. My blood pressure issues were a result of problems with my placenta. That’s ultimately what caused it to detach. And kill my baby. We know what happened. It doesn’t make it any easier to know. I thought it might. But it doesn’t.

It hurts worse.

I then tried to start the conversation about when we could start fertility treatments. The answer was like a blow to the head.

Because this has happened I am now at a higher risk of it happening again. And there’s not much that can be done about that. Except lose weight. My doctor said that the only thing within my control is to get back to the point I was at before I got pregnant. The smallest I’ve ever been. She won’t even consider helping us until then. She said my weight likely played a role in what happened. Her resident tried to explain that this kind of thing can happen to anyone, no matter what their weight. But that this was a risk factor that we have some control over. But my doctor made it sound like because I am fat my baby died. I don’t care what else she said, that’s all I heard. I feel like, now more than ever, it’s my fault. And I can’t even start to fathom trying to have another child until I’m not so fat. She even went so far to say that I could get put on a list for gastric bypass. I didn’t know I was that big, I didn’t know I had let it get that far. I’ve never felt this awful about myself . Ever. Nothing about this has been easy. Nothing, but it seems as though I can’t ever catch my breath. I’m tired. As I keep getting kicked in the ribs while I’m down. I’m going to lose the weight. I’m going to fight harder than I’ve ever fought before to lose it.

But until I am actively working to get pregnant again I can’t possibly see myself moving forward (not moving on) mentally. I am stagnant. I am broken. Fat and broken.

So Darcy and I came home and tried to digest as best we could our latest defeat. We both posted something on Facebook that aptly described how we were feeling in the moment.

Then an acquaintance of Darcy, who is pregnant, updated her status. Apparently she’s sick of hearing about dead babies because she’s trying to have a positive pregnancy. I hope you’re reading this. I really hope you are because I want you to know how incredibly sorry I am that the death of my child makes you feel mildly uncomfortable. Good news is that you can log off of your Facebook and go on about your day and dream about your perfect little baby, much like I used to. But I have to sit here and live in this hell without my child. I’m sorry that you are ‘forced’ to read our status updates and see us trying our best to remember a little girl who brought us so much joy for a much too short period of time. But most of all I am so sorry that you are so completely oblivious and insensitive. I hope you never have to feel like this. i hope you never have to wake up and think for a split second that you hear your dead baby crying or forget for that instant that you’re still pregnant only to realize how empty you are. Luckily you won’t have to look at your updates anymore, because we did something you should have done if you were so bothered by the loss of our child.

I’ve discovered that I’m much more bothered by pregnant people than I am by babies. I’ve spent some time over the last two weeks with various friends with brand new babies. And they bring me a sour sort of happiness. I love them all. But they remind me sorely of how much I miss my Everlee. Pregnant people make me nauseous. I feel like they see me as the grime reaper when they know what’s happened, and when they don’t know I feel like I want to yell at them and tell them what could happen. I told my psychologist about this today and she assures me that it’s normal with post traumatic stress. It doesn’t feel normal. It feels awful.

I’m just beaten down. Worn out. I’m tired. I need to catch my breath. But the blows keep coming. Left and right. I don’t know how much more I can take. I’ve always been down oneself about my weight. I’ve always hated by body. But now I feel more and more that I’m starting to hate myself too. I just wish I could wake up from this nightmare.


9 thoughts on “I don’t know how much more I can take

  1. Words seem so inadequate, especially when people can be so incredibly insensitive. I can’t imagine someone posting that, and I cannot imagine a Doctor being that blunt. Words can hurt so much quicker than they can heal. It’s not at all fair.
    I can’t imagine how you feel on a day like this. I wish there was a wand I could wave, a button I could push to help, but I know there isn’t. I wish strength for you. I wish peace for you.

  2. Oh my sweet heart, i wish those doctors realized how they make you feel but off course they dont, and to be truthful im not so sure they even care how it makes them feel, at the end of the day they are going home to their families and you are still grieving, you are still without you Everlee.
    They told my sister in law the same thing after she had a miscarriage, she proved to them that they were wrong and she did get pregnant and have a perfect baby, Everlee was perfect, there was nothing you could have done to change this, i dont care how many degrees they have after they name, they are so wrong. I know this for a fact, i know so many people who prove this to be incorrect. Dont let them get down on you, show them what you are made of, show them you can do this. I know you are feeling so broken right now, and it is so understanding why you are, i wish this was all just a bad nightmare, not something that you have to go thru in real life.
    I am here for you Rhonda, every min of every day

    I love you

  3. I wish there was something I could say…

    You have a definite reason to be hurting as much as you are, especially after the kind of day you had. I don’t know how close you and Darcy are/were to this girl, but you do not need such negative influences in your life bringing you down.

    Just live moment by moment… that’s what I’ve been doing off-and-on for a couple of years now. Don’t worry about how you’re going to handle tomorrow, and don’t worry about what everyone else thinks of you. Keep those who care about you most close to you, and lean on them when you’re too weak to stand on your own.

    For what it’s worth: I think the world has this high expectation for ultra-thin models. In my books, ultra-thin makes me ultra-sick to my stomach. First and foremost, you need to be happy with yourself. If Darcy’s happy, then that’s “bonus points”. Everything else is just “icing on the cake”. I know it’s the doctor’s opinion, but she might just be trying to explain something she’s baffled by. Honestly, nobody on earth can explain why this happened. Some people try, but nobody can be 100% sure about it.

    Right now you need to work on your heart, mind, and soul. You’re hurting in ways that words cannot even begin to describe. Do whatever you can to recharge yourself; as much as you have the strength for. If that means having an ice cream, a tub of ice cream, or every tub of ice cream on the island, so be it. When your mind is right, you can start tackling any other issues that you may want to tackle.

    Rhonda, you’re a beautiful young woman, inside and out… and I really mean that from the bottom of my heart. Nobody can ever take that away from you. I know I haven’t seen you in a while, but I remember your amazing spark, casting a constant smile. These difficult times have hidden the spark, but I really believe it’s still in there somewhere, buried deep inside under all the pain you’re going through. It will take time to sort through everything, and you really can’t rush it. But I’m sure you’ll find that spark again, just as bright as before, but a different hue from the experience Everlee has brought you.

  4. I hear you and I understand your despair. I’m not saying “I know how you feel” because that’s bullshit–no one knows how YOU feel. Not even Darcy or another mother who doesn’t have her baby to hold. Your feelings are your own and they are real. But they aren’t permanent. Please don’t attach permanent meaning (“I’ll never have a baby to raise”) to a situation that will change (your weight) and feelings that will change (your despair). Your body is a thing of beauty, a powerful machine full of miracles. That placenta let you down this time and it is tragic that it cost Everlee her life. It’s a horror to live through. Next time you are pregnant, you will be on a different routine now that your doctors know this about your body.

    Well, I’m talking around and around and around. I hope that you will be gentle with yourself as you rage and despair and grieve. Be angry with everything else–especially the obtuse coworker and the spitefully selfish dipshit on Facebook–but you deserve gentleness.

  5. You didn’t cause this. A million little things culminated in a horrible conclusion. You monitored her, took care of her, prepared. Constantly. To be so foolish as to blame you makes me question your doctors ability to monitor warning signs before I question you. You gained pregnancy weight. No doubt about it. But I have seen women much smaller to start with get much much bigger (No Rhonda. I didn’t just call you Fat)

    Right now you have a goal. A direction to go. You will get back to that weight. You will work hard. You will succeed. I know that. I know that because I know you and I believe in you. I have absolute 100% faith in you. Now you need to find it in yourself and move forward.

    Like so many other people. I’ve got your back.

    You have been kicked down over and over these last few months. All you have left is to take a deep breath. Draw strength from the people who love you and move forward. Because losing weight is part of your decision to actively become pregnant again. You need to change your perspective. Adjust your view. No more blows are coming. I’m taking those kicks and punches for you if I have to so you and Darcy can focus on getting to the right place

    You are loved. She is loved. This is just page one of another chapter.

  6. There’s not much more I can say that’s already been said by some very caring people. There are so many people far and wide that care about you. We can’t know what you’re going through, but we do want to give you the support and love that you need and want. That’s something that will always remain. It’s not going to just disappear after a certain time.

    I’m shocked, appalled and sad to hear that your doctor hurt you so much today. It isn’t right. Not at all. Words hurt. They hurt a lot and a person can’t take them back once said.

    I’m so sorry you had such a horrible day Rhonda. I really am. I think about you, Darcy and Everlee every day and and send positive thoughts your way when I do (and I’ll often face the the direction of your house since I can see Mount Pearl from my backyard. 🙂

  7. I have wanted to say for a few weeks now, forgive yourself. Please forgive yourself. You are not to blame anymore than Darcy is to blame or Everlee is to blame. As parents we have to carry on for our children, even when we have no idea how to do it. You are a parent. You must love yourself the way your daughter does. She should be with you, and she is not. This happened to you, not because of you.

    Find a doctor you can trust. One who doesn’t bring gastric bypass up to a grieving couple. One who sees you as you are, a loving mother who will provide a secure home. Because that is true. You are lost in this sea of grief that colors everything. Give your body more time to heal.

    Then tell me how to find Miss Positive so I can curl her hair.

  8. Rhonda,
    I can’t even comment what was said by that doctor, you didn’t deserve that and no body in your position would deserve that.
    All I can say is this,
    please, please, please keep telling us about Everlee, for as long as you are willing to share there will be so many people who want to hear about her. So many people that want to hear about you and Darcy your successes and struggles and your beautiful Everlee.

  9. Pingback: Hope | Being Everlee's Mom

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