“I’m happy. I’m sorry you’re sad, but I’m so happy that he has a good heart.”
“They way that he speaks, I think they would be friends. I know that they are brothers, but I think they would be friends.”
Those are both statements my husband made last night after watching the video of my birth son. But statements are true, but absolutely heartbreaking.
For starters, I’m not okay. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be okay when it comes to this. But for now, I’m just very much not okay.
I did watch that video in therapy last night. You know….the one with my 7 year old birth son being all awesome and getting a clip in the news.
It took a lot of strength and a lot of build up. I didn’t lose it, but I probably looked more visibly upset than usual.
I guess I should stop playing numb now and start being real. But even that poses a problem, because sometimes I think I don’t even know how to be real.
I’m running on 2, maybe less, hours of sleep right now. Again. I’ve had more drinks in the past 48 hours than I have hours of sleep. So I know my thoughts are scattered and I’m less present than I want to be.
I don’t have words good enough to explain how I’m feeling. I’m not even sure the words exist. Or if they do, they’re more advanced than my current emotional language.
Seeing you…hurts. It hurt likes nothing has ever hurt before. It felt like saying hello and goodbye to you all over again. Actually, I think that’s EXACTLY it. That’s exactly the way to describe it.
It felt like saying hello and goodbye to you all over again. Having you…growing you for 9 months, knowing you, having you to myself and then having to give you up after just a few days…. Unless you’ve ever lost a child, truly grieved the loss of your own flesh and blood, either through adoption or even death,..you just don’t know the pain. You can’t.
I think us as humans are hardwired to absolutely NOT even be capable of understanding that kind of pain unless we have to. Unless it’s literally thrown in our face, a fact of life. Otherwise…there is just no use for the comprehension of such immense pain.
Saying goodbye to the very thing that made me feel, well…everything… Words don’t do it justice. The pain of saying goodbye to him so soon after saying hello was the absolute worst experience of my life. Guys, I have been through some FUCKED UP SHIT.
But that was the worst. It was absolutely, by far, the most gut wrenching, heartbreaking pain I’ve ever experienced. It’s the type of pain that made me physically ill. Repeatedly.
I think that’s why I just can’t deal with it anymore. That level of pain is just something that I just don’t know how to handle. It doesn’t get better, it just changes.
The facts change. The grief changes. I’m no longer grieving the loss of my baby (well, I always will be, but still), but I’m grieving the loss of my oldest son. A brother to my children. An amazing human being. Someone who I’d be so proud of every moment of every day.
I’m grieving a life that never had a chance of existing.
Opening up that wound is just…I don’t know how to close it once it’s been opened. It’s probably one of my bigger flaws.
So we talked about it in therapy and we went back and forth for a bit. She asked me if I wanted to watch it.
And honestly, my answer was no. I didn’t want to watch it. I didn’t know why, but I just knew the pain of it, what it would bring up in me, was something I didn’t know how (or want) to deal with. It scared me, rightfully so.
But as much as I selfishly didn’t want to…I also did. It’s just that I knew how much it would wreck me. And it would never be enough. Seeing him for a minute will never be enough. I want more and I’ll never get all that I want.
But, brother, (that’s what I call my kids sometimes, I’m sure I’d call you that as well), I did see you tonight.
I watched your video and it broke my heart in all of the best and worst ways. I heard your voice, I heard you speak, and then it was over.
And I now realize why this was so hard.
Because it was just that…..it was exactly like saying hello and goodbye all over again.
And I’m sorry….I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you, or any of my kids, for the rest of my life.
I saw you once in therapy, where I forced myself to feel safe. The my husband watched it when I was in the room and again, I forced myself to be numb.
What I haven’t done is watch it on my own, without the presence of a forced facade.
That will be the true test. I have yet to watch it on my own. Let whatever ugly feelings I’m feeling shine through. Honestly, even alone I’d probably hide my feelings. I don’t know why it scares me so much.
I don’t know. This honestly just sucks. I’m not okay.
I can’t keep hurting like this. I need my heart to stop bleeding. Because it’s surely going to run out very, very soon.
But I am glad I saw you. And you’re freaking adorable. (But we already knew that.)
(I love you always, but today I loved you extra)
2 thoughts on “Dear son, I’m not strong enough for any more goodbyes.”
Good for you for watching it, as heartbreaking as it was and as hard as it is to feel the feels.
Yes. Watching it was better than not watching it, even if it sucks.