It’s been a few months since my last blog post. Frankly, my life picked up steam quite quickly at the beginning of 2019. I started a new job since I got my certification, I participated in an opera, and working on a few other projects. With all of these things on my plate, let’s just say time was extremely hard to come by.
I am a person that feels that if I am not involved in more than one thing at a time, I will wither and die! I do not know where I get this thought pattern from. I suppose I have a need to feel productive. There are so many areas in my life I that I am not proud of and, in a way, my “busy-ness” keeps me feeling useful. Those “not so proud” moments, when remembered, bring me a feeling of failure that is sometimes difficult to shake off. Being in my 40’s, I feel like I am playing catch up. In the process playing catch up, its time address those dark areas. Its time for me to address wounds of my past so I can begin the healing process.
In late 2007, I became pregnant with my first child. I am not going to say I was happy about it. As a matter of fact, I was quite angry. I did not want to have a child, at least not at the time and definitely not with the man I allowed to impregnate me. I was going to become a single mom. I would have to pool all my resources, raise my child on my own, and I live at home with my mom. I also broke a vow to myself. I told myself not to have a child without being married. Here I go doing the exact opposite of what I said I was not going to do. I am also battling mountains of debt so how am I going to raise a child with all burdens I already on my plate? On top of that, the doctors told me I was going to have an extremely difficult/high risk pregnancy because of being morbidly obese. That is more fuel to my anxiety fire.
I thought about what my options were including abortion. I went back and forth with myself about doing the procedure but ultimately decided against it. I remember when I decided to keep my child. It’s when I first heard my baby’s heartbeat. I remember smiling to myself. There is a whole other life inside of me. I then told myself how can you take away that life, that heartbeat? Now I do want to interject here that I staunchly believe in a woman’s right to choose. I understand that keeping a child is never a black and white decision. Every individual should have their own freedom to decide what is best for them. Now with that said, I was still very tenuous about having a child but since I made the decision to keep the baby; I had to prepare for the baby coming . At least that’s what I thought.
It was a cold day in 2008. I believe it was January. I was getting ready for work but I was not feeling so well. The day before, I went to the doctor’s office to get my monthly exam. They did an ultrasound but the doctor could not find the baby’s heartbeat. They dismissed it because I was obese and the baby could have been in a position where it was difficult to pick up the sound. I ended up going home that night and went on the next day per usual. While I was getting ready, all of a sudden I had a really bad headache. My stomach started to cramp and I became nauseous. The nausea was so violent, I began spitting up blood. I told my mom what was happening and we asked my neighbor to take me to the emergency room.
When I finally arrived, I was triaged and I sat for hours in the lobby waiting to see a doctor. My neighbor and I kept going to the front desk to see someone sooner but our pleas fell upon deaf ears. By the time I was taken back for treatment, my baby fell out of my womb and I was forced into labor to release the rest of the after birth. The pain I felt was indescribable. There was blood everywhere. My blood-my and baby’s blood was on the table where I laid and on the floor. I felt like I was dying. My baby was dead.
The nurse told me I had a boy. In the back of my mind, I knew that already. I already named him. I would talk to him. I imagined him responding. I imagined his voice. My imaginations of my son’s voice would eventually cease.
Since that time, I did not talk about my miscarriage. I suppressed the feelings of anger, hurt, guilt, relief, guilt for feeling relief and every other negative emotion in-between. I wanted to forget I was ever pregnant. I wanted to forget the shame, the pain, and the anguish. For a while, I succeeded. I forgot I was ever pregnant.
Recently, a friend of mine shared an article called “I Had a Miscarriage & Yes, I Flushed”. It is about one’s woman’s experience with miscarriage twice. Reading this article brought back all the memories of my miscarriage and all the feelings I had during that time. The memories were fresh although the event happened 11 years ago. The reasons why they were fresh and the wounds started to hurt all over again is because I never dealt with it. I suppressed, I forgot.
I Had A Miscarriage & Yes, I Flushed
This month, this same friend and her sister hosted a woman’s support group where miscarriage was discussed. I made myself go because I needed to face my past. I finally got the strength to talk about my miscarriage. It was emotional and yes I cried immensely. After the fact, I did feel better. I was grateful for the information given to myself and the other attendees. I also took solace in what my friend said to us, “You are still a mother”. I never took on that title, mother. I had a mother, My sisters are mothers, I have friends who are mothers but I never thought I could claim the title “mother”. My baby is dead and I never had another one. For a while, I thought I was not fit to be a mother. The decision to take my baby away was made for me. In hind sight, that kept me from not having children. I did not want to be reminded of the pain of losing another child and reminded of not being worthy of being called a “mother”.
I do not know why my baby was taking away. Maybe there is no intangible reason at all. Maybe my karma just did not allow for me to be a mom. Who knows. What I do know is that it happened. I had a miscarriage and I need to heal. One way I can foster healing is to honor my child’s life. He existed and because he existed; I am a mother.
One of the tools I was given at the support group was writing a letter to my child. I finally sat down and wrote this letter to my son Joseph Anthony McDonald – The Dreamer.
Dear Joseph,
I first want to say that I am very sorry I never did this prior today. I lost you 11 years ago. To be honest, I wanted to forget you. The way you were taken from me was very painful and I wish I never went through that again. That is very selfish of me to want to forget another human being I helped to create. I do not expect you to understand. I am not sure if I understand but this is how I felt.
Despite feeling one of wanting to forget, I also live with feeling two which is regret. My regret goes on two VERY different perspectives. Perspective one is having a relationship with your father that made you and perspective two that you never had the opportunity to experience life. I suppose I should add another perspective which is not able to be a mom to you.
I sometimes look at mothers interacting with their sons and I imagine what would of our interactions have been like? Would we have been close? Would I be running you back and forth to your various activities? Would you have been a good student? Would you be an athlete, a creative, or both? Would you want to be a musician like me? If you did, I would hope you would have liked to practice because your mom did not! 🙂 What would your favorite color be? How would your voice change depending on who was in the room? Would you have a favorite pair of shoes that would be so ratty that I would want to throw them away? Would you get mad at me? Would I have to scold you? Would you love me? Would you want to hug me? Would I want to hug and kiss you? I would have, every day and every night.
Joseph, I wish we had time together. At this time, I do not think there would be another after you. I seriously doubt I would be a mother any other. I supposed since you came and left so quickly in my life, I don’t want to replace you nor possibly lose another child.
I started chanting for you Joseph. Your energy has been reabsorbed into the Universe. Perhaps your karma will have you born again to parents who would love and care for you the way you deserve. That is my prayer for you Joseph.
I am sorry I forgot you. I am sorry I regretted trying to bring you in the world. Most of all, I am sorry you did not get a chance to live.
You will forever be in my heart Joseph. I promise I will never forget you again. You are my son and I your mom. I love you very much.
Sincerely,
Your mom Cindy
XOXO – CAMM