Tuesday 25 November 2008

It all seems like a bad dream sometimes.

Sometimes I wake up and I've forgotten that George has gone and then there's that awful monstrous moment when my heart lurches into my throat and I remember. My baby is dead.

Sometimes it's as if he never existed. Was I really pregnant? Did I really feel him move? Did we really see him sucking his thumb, waving to us and doing flips on that screen?

Sometimes it's almost as if I can still feel him.

Sometimes I feel as if my heart will burst from my chest with all this pain.

Sometimes I feel quite alright and I laugh. I kiss my guy, I feel playful, I make plans, I do domestic stuff (badly, but then again I've always done domestic stuff badly), I hope, I dream and I get through the day.

Today I'm thinking too much.


  1. Being a glutton for punishment, I watched Hope's 20 week ultrasound DVD the other day. The flips, the kicks, the waves, that lovely beating heart. Little did I know that would be the last time I would see her alive. So vibrant and alive. But on a fuzzy ultrasound screen. Not squirming around in my arms looking at me.
    Bah! I hate this.

  2. George's 20 week ultrasound was the same, although I wish I had a DVD, all his measurements were normal, everything was great. The only problem seemed to be my fibroids and off and on bleeding. A week later he was gone.

    I hate it too!

  3. I know I struggle with "did this really happen" mostly because everyone likes to pretend it didn'. Hi Monique, how's it going, (silence follows with no mention of "i'm sorry your baby died, gee, you must feel awful most of the time, is there anything I can do - do not come) and then chit chat and small talk follow, which I have to then pretend to care what date you've set your wedding for or how your boss is an idiot. Don't they know WE DON't CARE.

    If its any consulation, I felt movements for the first few days even though I knew full well there was no baby. Truly made me feel like a crazy woman.

    George is real. George is loved. George is missed.

  4. Thank you for sharing. I am so sorry you lost your beautiful son.
    I know what you mean about wondering "was I ever really pregnant"? As much as we might want to forget the pain, we also never want to forget.



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