Breakdown

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

I was going to go to yoga this morning but I can't get out of bed yet.  I am too sad.  I dreamt about Max again last night.  That we had to give him up for adoption.  He went to friends of ours, friends we really haven't heard from in real life since Max's funeral.  Since I don't talk to these people anymore, I knew it meant I would never see Max.  Maybe I could get updates about him from mutual friends.  The nurses pulled him out of my arms and I screamed and cried...."Don't take my baby!".  Oh god!  Again, reality is SO much worse. What kind of a life is this that I am living?  I wish god would just take pity on me and strike me down.  It's much too painful being here and living this nightmare day in and day out (the terrible nights, over and over).

Sunday, before the Superbowl, I had a breakdown of epic proportions.  And, yes, I understand that Sunday was supposed to be Teddy's day but the series of events and the idea of Max not being here to enjoy a lifetime of football with daddy just killed me.  When I woke up and started looking for photos of Max in his Giants gear, it sent daggers through my heart.  The photo of him in the bouncy chair with jeans was in a folder entitled "Maxie 11 weeks".  He was only 11 weeks old and grinning from ear to ear.  The same grin he would later have sitting in his bumbo chair months later.  I'm not sure why but knowing that he just started out that happy breaks my heart in a million pieces.  Ted and I went to breakfast - a place we have been eating on the weekends lately because there are usually no children.  Ted likes to go out to breakfast.  I find it rather hard because there are always kids.  We compromise and go either Saturday or Sunday...not both.  When we pulled up to the restaurant, there was a family getting out of their car - man, wife, baby about a year and a half.  Maxie would be about this baby's age.  This baby was toddling around and was cute and so we waited to see where they would sit and picked a seat far away.  I hate that this is our life now!  I absolutely HATE running away from children all of the time but I cannot see them.  We left the restaurant and Ted wanted to "off road" to Glendale.  He was excited to go to Whole Foods to get fancy snacks for the game.  We drove through the foothills of Burbank and Glendale and looked up all of the properties for sale on our iphones (even though I hope the next house we buy is FAR, FAR away from here!).  When we got out of the hills and onto the grid again, I looked up to see we were 1/2 a block from Max's pediatrician office.  I lost it!  I crumbled.  I avoid driving anywhere near there.  I even avoid looking up on the freeway at the exit sign when I have to drive on the 134 past the doctor's exit.  Just like I avoid driving on Riverside Drive by the daycare Max attended.  Just like I avoid driving by St. Joseph's hospital where Max was brought by the ambulances.  My whole life is avoidance.  I avoid people.  I avoid places.  I avoid topics,  I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE!!!!!  Why won't god take pity on me?  I HATE the pediatrician!  I hate him with all of my soul and he isn't the only one I blame and hate.  Was my baby not important enough to take good care of?  He was a human being!  He had his whole life ahead of him!  And, he was happy and sweet and he was the center of my universe and he would have had the most happy life and now he is gone.  Now he is gone and I am broken.  I am not the person I was.  I HATE the new me.  I HATE my "new normal".  My new normal SUCKS!!!!!!!!  We had a beautiful life.  We never did anything to hurt anyone.  We were good people.  We loved our son more than anything.  

Ted had to take me home before turning around and going back to the market.  I literally fell apart in the car.  It took a few hours to start functioning again.  And, that's all I do now....function.  When I am lucky, I am like a robot....with a dying battery.  I used to get a lot done.  I made my own baby food and I pumped a zillion times a day and I worked full time and took care of Max and made dinner every night and took conference calls at stupid times of day when I was trying to bathe my baby and went to events for work in the evening (time with Max I will never get back).  But, I made it all work.  And, then one day, I dropped him off at daycare and kissed him goodbye (my love) and he stopped breathing.  The next thing I knew, my family and I were in a hospital for three days praying for a miracle.  I am so sick of this life and it simply keeps repeating day after day after miserable F'ing day.

And I am SO angry!!!!!  So YOU move on!  YOU find something to be happy about!  YOU snap out of it!  YOU count your blessings!  My child never had a birthday party!  My child never tried frosting and birthday cake!  My child was sweet and happy and smiled from ear to ear and nobody bothered to keep him alive!!!!!!!   I can't take one more day of this.  Not one more hour.  Not one more minute.  But, as soon as I am done writing this, I have to find the energy to keep going and robot my way through another stupid, miserable day.

7 comments:

Allisonkovac said...

Dear Abby,

I feel compelled to write to you. I have been reading your blog over the course of many weeks. I often cry myself to sleep after reading it. I have often gone to work with swollen eyes and a foggy head, staying awake way too late reading, crying, and sharing in your sorrow. It seems I am addicted to your sorrow. I identify with it deeply. I have never experienced a tragic loss first hand, but somehow, I feel that we mother in identical ways and I am connected to your grieving process. Your blog is the only one I have ever read and in many ways it feels very voyaristic. This message is long overdue.

You mentioned your birthday in one of your posts and for me, that was an ah-ha moment. We share the same birthday-possibly the same year. (November 7, 1974 is my birthday.) It was after reading about your day of birth that I connected the dots with your grief and my connection to it. Perhaps our connection is deeply routed in our very being. We also share a connection to Ted. He is a dear high school friend of mine.

I want you to know that I miss Maxie. I miss him immensley for you and Ted and your families. I think that your grief journal (blog) is a fabulous way to document your pain and the memories of your sweet little boy. I want you to feel free to marinate in your grief (not that you need my permission or anyone else's for that matter) Who cares what anyone has to say/think? What if you were to "snap out of it," then you would be judged for moving on after "only six months." Fuck em all. No one can stand in judgement of you. I absolutely identify with your deep pain becuase I can identify with the deep your love you have for your family. Deep emotions hurt-deeply.

I can only hope that you will be willing to give time, time. It will not make you miss Max any less, nor will it take any of your pain away. Maybe HOPE is all there is.

Allison (Gardiner) Kovac

M said...

I am so sorry. I hurt for you as much as a stranger can possibly hurt for another stranger. I am so angry on your behalf. How could your beautiful child not be with you? It's so horrible and so wrong.

Egreeno said...

Words are inadequate to express how much I wish that this was not your reality. That Maxie does not get the happy life he began is so unfair and cruel!! That you are having to everyday function without him is horrific. I can't imagine anything more normal than being angry, how could you not be?

Asonenfeld said...

The loss of a baby is the most painful loss imaginable! Max was a uniquely sweet and beautiful human being. You have been proactive in dealing with this in the most positive way by trying outside methods, techniques and therapies to get you through this. You have faced this torture head on, as it is happening. Frankly, this is much more than most people would be capable of. If you were to hang on to your most horrible feelings, they would fester and grow and become something even worse.

You are so very honest and brave, Abby. Your voice helps other to release their pain. Your gift of communicating what you truly feel is remarkable! Your spirit is remarkable! The rest of us have the option of tuning out, if it is just too much. As you struggle through this nightmare, just know that you are surrounded by love.

Kathleen said...

From Boston to LA - Sending hugs and a hand to hold through the anger, ongoing sorrow, unbearable heart pain...

Unsolicited suggestions: Sometimes placing a hand over the heart when the pain is excruciating can help weather through it-- does not make it all better, though. Balasana pose - not a cure - but momentary "comforting" physical, mental and emotional rest.

Sending another hand to hold.

alison sonenfeld said...

The loss of a baby is the most painful loss imaginable! Max was a uniquely sweet and beautiful human being. You have been proactive in dealing with this in the most positive way by trying outside methods, techniques and therapies to get you through this. You have faced this torture head on, as it is happening. Frankly, this is much more than most people would be capable of. If you were to hang on to your most horrible feelings, they would fester and grow and become something even worse.

You are so very honest and brave, Abby. Your voice helps other to release their pain. Your gift of communicating what you truly feel is remarkable! Your spirit is remarkable! The rest of us have the option of tuning out, if it is just too much. As you struggle through this nightmare, just know that you are surrounded by love.


Alison

Egreeno said...

I couldn't agree more! Thank you Alison for also being so eloquent and expressing what I have thought so often but not been able to find a way to say

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