The main thing my doctor made sure to tell me after telling me it was over, was it wasn’t anything I did. Technically, it could’ve been. But I know what I did and didn’t do—and really don’t blame myself. I do have the occasional “I wonder…”
But where the guilt falls is with how my grief affects others. I know everyone (the books, my counselor, the support groups,etc.) say this is about me and how I feel. But I’m someone who always tries to make everyone comfortable. I’m the diplomat of my family. That’s who I AM, and that—while some things about me are changing—that hasn’t. So when I make someone unhappy—I feel it in my inner being.
My family reunion is today. I didn’t go because my husband didn’t want to. And it’s not just around the corner. If I need to go home I have to drive almost two hours. By myself. With my daughter.
This would be the first time in a group of people that know me—but don’t know my loss. I’m afraid of the casual “when’s the next one coming?” and being at a place that I’ve not been. A place that caters to families and young children. That means babies and pregnant women. The possibility of overwhelming me and what I can handle.
My family doesn’t get it. If I fall apart, I’m depressed. I’m not moving on. They aren’t huggers. THEY. DON’T. GET. IT. I guess that’s good—that means they haven’t lost. But I can’t do that alone. I might be fine. I put on a good face in public. But what if I don’t. Driving home upset. For two hours. By myself. With my Daughter.
So I didn’t go.
And the text messages from my family…with the subtle implications about me not going. From people that wanted me to go to entertain them. It makes me feel guilty. And I can’t control it.
And then there’s my husband. I lean on him. I depend on him. And I only fall apart near him.
And it’s starting to wear. We had a talk last night. It really was needed. We laid out where we are in our grieving. He talked FINALLY about what bothered him—I know he’s not really grieving for the baby much. He told me that sometimes alongside wishing things went normally (obviously), or maybe that I hadn’t gotten pregnant—he wishes I had been further along in the loss. So that he had been more a part of it. So that he could grieve with me. Because he too feels guilty. When I’m sad—and he doesn’t know what to do. What to say.
He also says it makes him a little upset when he sees how I act around other people. When we aren’t home. When I’m working. And that’s not how I am around him. That’s because my public person is a lie. I hold everything in. Work is so hard when I have to be the face of customer service. “How are you doing today.” “I’m fine” (But my insides are screaming—NO I’m Not fine!)
So now I feel guilty. I’m hurting my husband. So now I’ll lie to him too.
I have no one who wants to listen anymore.
I am so alone in my grief. And in my guilt.
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