My eyes are adjusted to the darkness in our bedroom. I can make out the fan spinning above our bed, the frames that line our walls and my dresser. My mind is running faster than a bolt of lightning. It's as if my senses are in overdrive. I hear Harvey breathing in the hallway, and Matt beside me. Matt's breathing is heavy. Every so often he will snore or shift his position, largely I assume because I wiggle so much beside him. Once in awhile I hear a very silent but obvious air escape from Matt's side of the bed and an immediate smile creeps across my face. How cute to fart in your sleep. Heehee during the waking hours I'm not nearly as impressed by his gas, the smell is beyond anything I've ever come across.
I lay in bed thinking, wondering and trying to get comfortable. It's stuffy tonight in our room and I'm happy with just a soft sheet draped across me. I am flat on my back. Mr bear is wrapped in my left arm and my two Gracie and Wyatt dolls are placed gently in the center of my chest, directly over my heart. I have a knit blanket that surrounds my tummy. It's a special blanket a friend mailed me after we lost Grace and Wyatt. I carry it with me and sleep with it. It's peaceful, I'm not afraid in the darkness that surrounds me, but I can't will myself to sleep.
I envy Matt. Well I suppose I envy people in the world that have the ability to pause life and play it when ready. The ability to suck it up and proceed. The ability to live affected but not immersed. I've always been pretty good at leaving my life outside of work. I always separate the two. It's allowed me to excel in every field I've worked in. But this is different. People just don't understand death. I didn't even truly understand it until it happened to my babies. It just seemed unreal, like it would never happen to me or anyone I knew personally. It's just different now.
I know Matt has struggled with his grief. With the balancing act of social life, work, and being a husband and father. What we planned is no longer and we are barely holding onto one another. Smiles are far and few between and laughter is unheard of.
For me I was able to fully dive into my grief. I became one with my pain and suffering and was able to feel every painful sensation that ripped though my body and mind. I have this blog where I'm able to be honest, brutally honest at times. I feel like I can be very honest with some people but mask the pain for many. Mainly I do this to guard myself from people's words. People say stupid stupid things and it angers me! So I say I'm doing ok or were good just to stop the roll of questions. Matt on the other hand doesn't open up to many at all. In fact I believe he's only been truly honest with three people since we lost Grace and Wyatt. It's just not something men feel comfortable talking about. Matt once told me, guys just don't talk about this stuff with other guys. I know for a long time Matt held his pain in. I think he internalized a lot and worked through much in his head. Our support group was so crucial! Matt was able to talk to a man who honestly understood and could relate to him. He didn't have to lie, he didn't have to ward off awkward questions. He could be real and I think that was invaluable for him. I feel fortunate that he's felt safe enough with me to be open and real about his feelings. I try to be very respectful. I don't push or pester him. I am here and he knows if he needs to he can come and share with me. Sometimes something triggers a spark and he comes home completely devastated. He talks about how hard it is to see kids doing things and then realizing we will never have the chance to see Grace or Wyatt do those very things. It's heartbreaking really. He will never get to walk Grace down the aisle. He will never get to take Wyatt shooting. It's the little things that are constant reminders of what life could and should have been. Matt's been strong in his faith all along and feels strong in his belief in seeing the kids someday in heaven. I know this brings him hope and peace on those hard days.
As for me I think a lot! Too much probably. I analyze and analyze each thing we did. I collapse when I remember the stupid hours, days, weeks freaking months I spent on bed rest fighting for my babies all to have them abruptly taken from me. I'm angry and bitter. I am mad and blame God. I haven't forgiven him, hell at this point I don't believe or trust him. I'm not sure if I can or ever will. We prayed before we got pregnant, we prayed every day of our pregnancy, we prayed for healing for our babies and you know what?! That so called god walked away in our darkest hours. I read people who say their faith was affirmed in the Nicu or that miracles happen. I've seen good outcomes, but I simply don't believe a god has any control. It's a nice theory but come on! I hate him. And I guess in hating him I'm acknowledging that he might exist which makes me even madder. Hopefully someday this rage will evaporate and I will find some sort of peace. For now I will be bitter and mad.
No comments:
Post a Comment