I Now Know Loss

Trigger Warning: Baby loss

I've had a fairly somewhat normal life. Nothing too tragic or devastating had ever happened to me prior to the year of 2020.

So when I fell pregnant with my first child, Chayce, I was obviously relieved, excited and emotional, however reflecting back on my mindset, I realise I also EXPECTED a happy motherhood story. I had no reason to believe otherwise.

I am a young, relatively healthy woman. Too responsible for my own good most of the time.

There was no reason to believe my child would be of poor health.

I expected to fall pregnant naturally. I expected to have a low risk pregnancy. I expected to have a natural birth. I expected the safe arrival of my child. I expected my body to do what it was supposed to do. I expected to have a happy complete family.

I did not expect anything tragic to happen to me or my family.

Expectations were still met with serious anxiety.

I was worried and anxious about literally everything my entire pregnancy, but I didn't expect anything bad to happen. There's a difference there..

So my first sentence of this post is superseded with the fact that my life has now had a tragic, devastating event happen that I never expected would occur.

I was always anxious that bad things could possibly happen, but never that it actually would.

I now know loss.

Every single emotion that comes with those words.

How it can rock you to your very core.

How it feels to not being able to, nor wanting to envisage your life without your loved one.

The nightmare that you hope you wake up from, but never do.

I'm way too familiar with the heartache of learning to accept your very much unwanted new life.

That clinging to the idea that perhaps suddenly praying to whatever god is potentially up there, might help you out of this hell hole. The same god you are so angry at for taking your child away, for taking away his chance at a healthy 'normal' life.

The strong sense of anger that comes over you when all you want to do is scream, using all your energy but it doesn't even help you the slightest.

What it's like to become a part of an ugly statistic. A statistic that you don't even properly fit into but its the closest representation of your new reality and where you now belong.

How bizarre it feels when you have run out of tears, but have so much left to cry about.

How difficult it is to occupy your mind with anything other than your baby - The baby you had but cant hold.

The phase of complete and utter shock where your body shuts down and refuses to function.

I can recall the exact moment I thought my world was ending, yet cant remember the days in between. It felt like I was entering an apocalypse.

I know the feeling of the water hitting your back in the shower but instead feeling like knives stabbing you.

The feeling of your body being so tense that you cant even stand up straight.

How frustrating it is when your mind is going a million miles an hour, yet all you manage to blurt out and repeat is 'no' or 'this cant be happening'.

The pleading for mercy.

The battle in your head where you cant stop blaming yourself for this catastrophic turn of events and carrying the entire responsibility on your shoulders for causing so much sadness to your loved ones.

Loss has snuck up into my life and planted itself here.

I was always anxious about it, but I never invited it and I surely wasn't expecting it.

It's not welcome here, but it's decided it will be staying.

I now know loss, but I don't want to.