I have been so overwhelmed, disappointed, sad, and angry at life. I feel so embarrassed and ashamed because I have been mad at God and have questioned His plans for me. I feel that I have been selfish and that God is punished me for my past. I know that God doesn't punish us and that He loves us all, but sometimes things just happen that makes you question His plans.
On Feb 22nd, I found out I was pregnant. It was such an amazing surprise. I was very excited. I couldn't believe it. I guess the nausea, mood swings, fatigue, weight loss...was not related to the long hours at work. I was now 2 1/2 months pregnant. I had been to busy and involved with work to have noticed the changes with my body.
The feelings were so different from the previous pregnancy. I was shocked to find out I was pregnant, but I was happy. I couldn't wait and get home to tell my boyfriend Jay. A new little life. Our new little life.
I didn't tell him right away. I planned it all out. Instead I went shopping. It felt so warm, comforting, and soothing to go into the baby stores. All the cute cuddly items. I also felt uneasy and overwhelmed. I thought of my previous pregnancy and how selfish I reacted towards it. I fought back the tears and reassured myself that it's different now. That this baby won't take the place of the other. It's ok to love this baby.
I bought a little pair of white baby shoes. I wrapped them up in a little tiny box.
The following morning I handed Jay the little white box. He opened it. He smiled. He was as surprised as I was. He was happy. I was happy. I then handed him the sonogram. We stared at it for hours. We couldn't believe it. We hadn't planned it, but he was welcomed and loved. Our baby.
On March 6th, I miscarried. I can't believe it. I just found out a couple weeks ago that I was pregnant. NOT AGAIN GOD!!! I cried and I am still crying. I am so angry, sad! I am so angry at God for having allowed this to happen. For taking my baby. For not trusting me to be able to care for this baby. I don't get it! I am also disappointed at me for not having cared for my body better. Maybe my baby would've had a chance at life.
WHY???!!! Why does God allow such a thing? Why can't God just allow me to be HAPPY? Why can't He just allow me a second chance? Does He think I'm such a screw up or that my life is so screwed up that I don't deserve a child?
I know I sound selfish right now, but I am hurting so bad. I feel so empty. I don't know how long this hurt will last. I just feel so miserable. I just want to cry until it doesn't hurt any more. I want it all to be a bad dream. Medically I know why it happened, but my heart wont accept it right now. All I have left are the little reminders-the little white baby shoes and the sonogram, of what was my and Jay's baby.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Letting Go
"It's getting hard to fight. I feel defeated. I don't want to break down. I don't want to mess anything up. I want it to feel right to be alright. I thought that with time, it all was going to get better. It has not. I am so scared.
I have been feeling as if I have been fighting a battle with myself. I have always been a perfectionist in everything I do. I have always carried well, no matter what. I always smile even if inside I am dying. I have control over everything, who I trust, who I let into my life, and how I want to be treated. No one can control me or my emotions. I control when I cry and how much I cry. No one will ever be allowed to hurt me or make me feel vulnerable ever again, because I have control over my life and who enters into it. Poised, prim and proper, the smile, the many faces of perfection.
But in reality my perfection and control are faltering. I feel like letting go. My heart is breaking. I feel I can't hold on to all this any longer. Everything is getting so difficult to deal with. I just want to be held tight and reassured that everything will be alright. I want to crawl into a hole and cry and never come out.
It's like living on the edge, hanging from a ledge, too scared to hold the hand that wants to help."
I am hurting so much that I decided to go for therapy. I can't explain it, but felt that I needed to go to therapy. I always walk out of counseling when it's getting close to talking of what happened. I usually leave therapy on the first couple of sessions. This time I feel it is different. I walked into the center, I didn't have an appointment. I was seen the same day. Usually there's a 3 day waiting period to be seen. I guess God is watching over me and He feels it's the right time. The right time to "let go".
My therapist's name is Alice. She seems very nice and caring. After the introduction and get to know session, she asked me why I was there and what I want to get out of the therapy. She didn't have to ask anything else...I just blurted it out loud "I am here because I was molested and raped by my father from the age of 6 years old until the age of 16. I want to be able to live without the nightmares."
I said it! I had never said it out loud to anyone. "My father raped me." It was so surreal. It felt as if someone else had said it. Such a relief and no one told be to shut up. No one said that I wasn't allowed to talk about it. No one slapped me when I said it. No one said I was going to hell. It was as if I had taken back my voice. The voice that had been quieted for many years. My voice.
I had wanted to say it for many years, but I was to afraid of breaking down and not be able to stop crying. I did cry and I didn't break down. The therapist reassured me that it is going to be alright. That it is going to be difficult, but that the worst part is over. That I survived the abuse and that I am strong enough to survive the recovery.
Finally, I stepped up. I will let go. My abuse is just a part of me of my past. It does not define me nor will I let it define me. I will not allow the b******s that hurt me take anymore of my life. I will no longer allow myself to pretend to be who I am not. I owe it to myself. I won't hide or run away from my feelings. I can't love myself at the expense of someone else. Besides what do I have to lose, I have already lived the nightmare. I can't break anymore than what I am already.
"" There's comfort in knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, you're going to do everything in your power to heal."". ~E. Bass
I have been feeling as if I have been fighting a battle with myself. I have always been a perfectionist in everything I do. I have always carried well, no matter what. I always smile even if inside I am dying. I have control over everything, who I trust, who I let into my life, and how I want to be treated. No one can control me or my emotions. I control when I cry and how much I cry. No one will ever be allowed to hurt me or make me feel vulnerable ever again, because I have control over my life and who enters into it. Poised, prim and proper, the smile, the many faces of perfection.
But in reality my perfection and control are faltering. I feel like letting go. My heart is breaking. I feel I can't hold on to all this any longer. Everything is getting so difficult to deal with. I just want to be held tight and reassured that everything will be alright. I want to crawl into a hole and cry and never come out.
It's like living on the edge, hanging from a ledge, too scared to hold the hand that wants to help."
I am hurting so much that I decided to go for therapy. I can't explain it, but felt that I needed to go to therapy. I always walk out of counseling when it's getting close to talking of what happened. I usually leave therapy on the first couple of sessions. This time I feel it is different. I walked into the center, I didn't have an appointment. I was seen the same day. Usually there's a 3 day waiting period to be seen. I guess God is watching over me and He feels it's the right time. The right time to "let go".
My therapist's name is Alice. She seems very nice and caring. After the introduction and get to know session, she asked me why I was there and what I want to get out of the therapy. She didn't have to ask anything else...I just blurted it out loud "I am here because I was molested and raped by my father from the age of 6 years old until the age of 16. I want to be able to live without the nightmares."
I said it! I had never said it out loud to anyone. "My father raped me." It was so surreal. It felt as if someone else had said it. Such a relief and no one told be to shut up. No one said that I wasn't allowed to talk about it. No one slapped me when I said it. No one said I was going to hell. It was as if I had taken back my voice. The voice that had been quieted for many years. My voice.
I had wanted to say it for many years, but I was to afraid of breaking down and not be able to stop crying. I did cry and I didn't break down. The therapist reassured me that it is going to be alright. That it is going to be difficult, but that the worst part is over. That I survived the abuse and that I am strong enough to survive the recovery.
Finally, I stepped up. I will let go. My abuse is just a part of me of my past. It does not define me nor will I let it define me. I will not allow the b******s that hurt me take anymore of my life. I will no longer allow myself to pretend to be who I am not. I owe it to myself. I won't hide or run away from my feelings. I can't love myself at the expense of someone else. Besides what do I have to lose, I have already lived the nightmare. I can't break anymore than what I am already.
"" There's comfort in knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, you're going to do everything in your power to heal."". ~E. Bass
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Daddy's Little Girl
She was daddy's little girl
To have and to hold.
The day before Her 6th b-day
The last happy memories
She'll ever know.
She was absolutely forbidden
To talk to anyone
About what she did with daddy.
Her story is sad
But she learned
Early on
To fake
Happiness.
She decorates herself with
Smiles,
Butterflies,
Flowers,
And
Sweetness.
Trying to reclaim
Her stolen innocence.
Her family disowned her
When she was sixteen
For telling the truth.
She wonders
What life would have been
If her mother would have only believed her.
She wishes she had never been born
Into this dark cruel world
The only world she knows.
The most difficult thing
Is to forgive herself
And learn to let go.
She puts her heart through hell
Their love will always be sin
It's hard for her to understand
That it is his sin alone.
She's afraid of the stigma
Of her soiled past.
When she looks at herself
She sees no soul
No salvation.
She was never taught
To respect, care, and love
Her body.
She cares for everyone
But she treats herself like crap.
She never cries
Even though she is going
Through hell.
Her smile hides her pain
Her smile keeps her sane.
She's learned
How to hide her crazy
Keep it together
But under all that perfection
She is crumbling.
She tries to run away
From the darkness
Running from her mess.
No matter how far she runs
It is always there.
Torn and all jacked up
She numbs her pain
At the expense of her liver.
She has always known
What feels good
Hurts at the end.
It's one of those sad things
That happens in life.
If she could
She would
Slip away
And
Never wake up.
To have and to hold.
The day before Her 6th b-day
The last happy memories
She'll ever know.
She was absolutely forbidden
To talk to anyone
About what she did with daddy.
Her story is sad
But she learned
Early on
To fake
Happiness.
She decorates herself with
Smiles,
Butterflies,
Flowers,
And
Sweetness.
Trying to reclaim
Her stolen innocence.
Her family disowned her
When she was sixteen
For telling the truth.
She wonders
What life would have been
If her mother would have only believed her.
She wishes she had never been born
Into this dark cruel world
The only world she knows.
The most difficult thing
Is to forgive herself
And learn to let go.
She puts her heart through hell
Their love will always be sin
It's hard for her to understand
That it is his sin alone.
She's afraid of the stigma
Of her soiled past.
When she looks at herself
She sees no soul
No salvation.
She was never taught
To respect, care, and love
Her body.
She cares for everyone
But she treats herself like crap.
She never cries
Even though she is going
Through hell.
Her smile hides her pain
Her smile keeps her sane.
She's learned
How to hide her crazy
Keep it together
But under all that perfection
She is crumbling.
She tries to run away
From the darkness
Running from her mess.
No matter how far she runs
It is always there.
Torn and all jacked up
She numbs her pain
At the expense of her liver.
She has always known
What feels good
Hurts at the end.
It's one of those sad things
That happens in life.
If she could
She would
Slip away
And
Never wake up.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Here goes, it has been difficult for me to find an entry for my blog. You see expressing myself either through writing or speaking to someone about it is very nerve wrecking for me. I cannot find the right words to express my feelings on paper and when it comes to talking to someone in person I just seem to clam up. The fear of letting someone into my deepest thoughts and emotions just overwhelms me.
I started the blog in hopes that I would be able to express myself and begin finding closure for my life. When my former therapist suggested I write down my feelings and thoughts on paper that’s when I decided that maybe blogging about it would help me more. I did enter a few entries to my blog, but it’s the most difficult thing I have done. Trying to place my emotions on paper is terrifying. I can write my story without any problem, but adding emotions and finding the words to express my emotions is something so awkward. I want to be able to express myself without worrying and being afraid of what will come out of my true feelings.
As a child, I learned to keep quiet. {Never disobey your parents. Always do what you are told. Never ask just do it. Don’t talk about how you feel. Don’t cry, What are they going to say if they see you crying? You better not be talking to anyone. They are going to think you’re crazy. You are going to break up the family. You’re crazy. God will punish you. You are going to hell.} All through my childhood, teenage years, and adult life that’s all I know to do, keep quiet, if not I will go to hell.
For the past couple of weeks, I have debated whether I should continue to blog and even write about my experiences as a survivor. I had come to the conclusion that I should take my blog down. That I am just wasting my time and that I was not getting any where with this. I felt that I was not being true to myself and my blog followers. I kept on asking myself, “What do I have to offer, if I can’t be true to my emotions?” I started blogging in order to be able to express myself and to be able to at least spread the word on child sexual abuse, rape, and domestic violence. I felt that maybe through my story and daily struggle to sanity that I could make a difference, but somehow I was not seeing any changes. My entries are all just to dark and without any positive outlook. Nothing that shows that I am on my way to getting better. I am emotionally stuck. If I can call it that.
Today after long thought, I am not deleting my blog. I believe God answered my question. Just be silent and you’ll get an answer. Or for me be patient. Nothing changes over night. Today I spent my whole day tweeting with other bloggers and survivors of abuse and/or rape. I found out something very meaningful and heartwarming. I found out that through this blog I am making a difference in many people’s lives. As the day progressed I was seeing more tweets geared towards me about how inspirational and amazing I am and how they like my blog. Some tweets read: “keep on doing what you doing, you are amazing”; “you are a better person “; “u are doing important work”; “thanks for the inspiration”; “Thank your for seeing all that is beautiful(you), for sharing your journey & walking with purpose”; “TU for sharing love+strength despite what you’ve been through…”; “ you inspire me & at least once a day I smile b/c of u”; and many more. WOW for me to read all the kindness and support just brought me to tears, but tears of joy. I am actually doing something worth while and people are taking time to read and comment on my life. I am overwhelmed with emotion.
I had not opened my blog since Dec. 20th, but today after all my debating, this is my first entry of 2012. Sorry for such a long entry, but I felt the need to express how I felt about my blog.
I would like to express my gratitude for all the support and encouragement I have gotten from all my followers and the kind people who take time to read my blog. Thank you for the kind words and comments left on both the blog and on twitter @SusieU_11. It really means a lot to me. Thank you for being patient as I am new to blogging. Please feel free to comment on either the blog or on my twitter account @SusieU_11. I really appreciate all your feedback.
My journey to recovery is still in progress. It is looking like to be a long and difficult battle, but knowing that I have all this support and love is only going to make it easy and worth the fight. I know I can do it and I wont give up!!
Thank you again for visiting my blog. Oh and sorry to have made this too long and for rambling on and on. I said I had a difficult time expressing my emotions, I didn’t say I had a difficult time writing.
Luv,
Susie
PS: Look for future blog entries as I share more of myself.
I started the blog in hopes that I would be able to express myself and begin finding closure for my life. When my former therapist suggested I write down my feelings and thoughts on paper that’s when I decided that maybe blogging about it would help me more. I did enter a few entries to my blog, but it’s the most difficult thing I have done. Trying to place my emotions on paper is terrifying. I can write my story without any problem, but adding emotions and finding the words to express my emotions is something so awkward. I want to be able to express myself without worrying and being afraid of what will come out of my true feelings.
As a child, I learned to keep quiet. {Never disobey your parents. Always do what you are told. Never ask just do it. Don’t talk about how you feel. Don’t cry, What are they going to say if they see you crying? You better not be talking to anyone. They are going to think you’re crazy. You are going to break up the family. You’re crazy. God will punish you. You are going to hell.} All through my childhood, teenage years, and adult life that’s all I know to do, keep quiet, if not I will go to hell.
For the past couple of weeks, I have debated whether I should continue to blog and even write about my experiences as a survivor. I had come to the conclusion that I should take my blog down. That I am just wasting my time and that I was not getting any where with this. I felt that I was not being true to myself and my blog followers. I kept on asking myself, “What do I have to offer, if I can’t be true to my emotions?” I started blogging in order to be able to express myself and to be able to at least spread the word on child sexual abuse, rape, and domestic violence. I felt that maybe through my story and daily struggle to sanity that I could make a difference, but somehow I was not seeing any changes. My entries are all just to dark and without any positive outlook. Nothing that shows that I am on my way to getting better. I am emotionally stuck. If I can call it that.
Today after long thought, I am not deleting my blog. I believe God answered my question. Just be silent and you’ll get an answer. Or for me be patient. Nothing changes over night. Today I spent my whole day tweeting with other bloggers and survivors of abuse and/or rape. I found out something very meaningful and heartwarming. I found out that through this blog I am making a difference in many people’s lives. As the day progressed I was seeing more tweets geared towards me about how inspirational and amazing I am and how they like my blog. Some tweets read: “keep on doing what you doing, you are amazing”; “you are a better person “; “u are doing important work”; “thanks for the inspiration”; “Thank your for seeing all that is beautiful(you), for sharing your journey & walking with purpose”; “TU for sharing love+strength despite what you’ve been through…”; “ you inspire me & at least once a day I smile b/c of u”; and many more. WOW for me to read all the kindness and support just brought me to tears, but tears of joy. I am actually doing something worth while and people are taking time to read and comment on my life. I am overwhelmed with emotion.
I had not opened my blog since Dec. 20th, but today after all my debating, this is my first entry of 2012. Sorry for such a long entry, but I felt the need to express how I felt about my blog.
I would like to express my gratitude for all the support and encouragement I have gotten from all my followers and the kind people who take time to read my blog. Thank you for the kind words and comments left on both the blog and on twitter @SusieU_11. It really means a lot to me. Thank you for being patient as I am new to blogging. Please feel free to comment on either the blog or on my twitter account @SusieU_11. I really appreciate all your feedback.
My journey to recovery is still in progress. It is looking like to be a long and difficult battle, but knowing that I have all this support and love is only going to make it easy and worth the fight. I know I can do it and I wont give up!!
Thank you again for visiting my blog. Oh and sorry to have made this too long and for rambling on and on. I said I had a difficult time expressing my emotions, I didn’t say I had a difficult time writing.
Luv,
Susie
PS: Look for future blog entries as I share more of myself.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Emotional
This month has been very difficult for me. I have been very Emotional. The weather hasn’t helped much as you can see from the picture. The days have been cold, gloomy, and short. Foggy at times and rainy as well. Most days are cloudy, very few days have been sunny.
I feel: Empty. Alone. Sad. Shameful. Frustrated . Angry. Doubtful. Hurt. Raw. Confused. Afraid. Helpless. Dirty. Betrayed. Suffocating. Broken Down. A Mess. Pain. Imprisoned.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Celebrating Is Much Worse Than Having It Forgotten
December has been very difficult for me, my birthday. It was supposed to be my day. My 13th Birthday. It was a happy day. I had come home from Young Life, it was 11:00 pm. That horrible cold night, many years ago. The night he came into me. The night he decided to take my virginity. The night I didn’t fight back. The terrible night I wished I had never been born.
How I wish I had just died. I was so terrified. I didn’t know what to do. His filthy body covering me. His rough hands rubbing me all over. His disgusting breath as he whispered how much I had grown up. “Don’t cry, lay still! Be a good girl.” How could I not cry? It hurt so bad. The throbbing burning pain. “You’re a good girl.” I dreaded it. “Don’t fight!” I didn’t want to. “I am not going to hurt you, but I will kill you if I thought you were talking to anybody.”
Damn him!!! I hated it. I just wanted it to end so bad! So I was a good girl and did everything he told me. I did it over and over!! I was only a child.
Today I still live with the voices, the scars, and the screams. I can’t forget the threats. I carry his madness, and perverted distorted acts in my heart. My soul is filled with anger and pain. I am ashamed and angry at my self for letting him do it. All I want to do for my birthday is run away and hide. I want to run away as far as possible from everything. I want to be free from all this hurt. I want to hide, find a rock and go under it. I don’t want anybody close. I just want to be left alone. How I wish I could just disappear, but no matter how much I try to hide or run away from it, it will always be there. I would think that as time pass, it would get better. It hasn’t.
It’s been years and it still feels as if it happened yesterday. I hate it. I hate him. The reminders are everywhere. Every year the same pain. I feel sad and angry. No matter what I do. I hate it, I hate feeling this way. I don’t think anything can help me fill this darkness. The deep down hurt and disgust. I’m trying so damn hard to fight all this, but it is becoming to hard and frustrating. Why did this happen? Why did he hurt me? How can I just get on with my life? He will never know what it is like to live this way, to go through this every birthday while he is out there living his normal life. I can’t forget. I try to pretend this madness never happened. I don’t want to believe it. I want to forget. To celebrate my birthday is much worse than having it forgotten.
How I wish I had just died. I was so terrified. I didn’t know what to do. His filthy body covering me. His rough hands rubbing me all over. His disgusting breath as he whispered how much I had grown up. “Don’t cry, lay still! Be a good girl.” How could I not cry? It hurt so bad. The throbbing burning pain. “You’re a good girl.” I dreaded it. “Don’t fight!” I didn’t want to. “I am not going to hurt you, but I will kill you if I thought you were talking to anybody.”
Damn him!!! I hated it. I just wanted it to end so bad! So I was a good girl and did everything he told me. I did it over and over!! I was only a child.
Today I still live with the voices, the scars, and the screams. I can’t forget the threats. I carry his madness, and perverted distorted acts in my heart. My soul is filled with anger and pain. I am ashamed and angry at my self for letting him do it. All I want to do for my birthday is run away and hide. I want to run away as far as possible from everything. I want to be free from all this hurt. I want to hide, find a rock and go under it. I don’t want anybody close. I just want to be left alone. How I wish I could just disappear, but no matter how much I try to hide or run away from it, it will always be there. I would think that as time pass, it would get better. It hasn’t.
It’s been years and it still feels as if it happened yesterday. I hate it. I hate him. The reminders are everywhere. Every year the same pain. I feel sad and angry. No matter what I do. I hate it, I hate feeling this way. I don’t think anything can help me fill this darkness. The deep down hurt and disgust. I’m trying so damn hard to fight all this, but it is becoming to hard and frustrating. Why did this happen? Why did he hurt me? How can I just get on with my life? He will never know what it is like to live this way, to go through this every birthday while he is out there living his normal life. I can’t forget. I try to pretend this madness never happened. I don’t want to believe it. I want to forget. To celebrate my birthday is much worse than having it forgotten.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Today I Said A Little Prayer
I have been thinking of the miscarriage I had four years ago. The baby would have been 4 years old, November 27th. Hard for me to accept that I could have had a child that age. He or she would have been in school by now. How would it had been like? I don’t know. It has been years since the miscarriage, every year comes and goes and I try not to place any thought to it.
Since the day of the miscarriage, I had suppressed all my emotions. I try not to feel anything for it. I was so sad, when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want to accept the pregnancy, so for me the miscarriage was good news. Don’t get me wrong, I do love children, but I didn’t want any until later in life, when I was in a stable relationship. When I had worked out some issues in my life and I knew I could provide a child with love.
I look back and remember feeling so relieved that I no longer had to carry that child. His child. After the D&C, I went home from the hospital and slept. The next day I went to work and carried out with my life as if nothing happened. I don’t remember feeling anything. I was in a daze. It was so surreal. If I did, I just worked through it. I tried to keep myself busy, so that I didn’t have to think about it.
Every November, I go about as if nothing. I try not to think about it. I just Thank God that he took it away. Sounds evil, but that is what has kept me somewhat sane.
This year has been different. Maybe that emptiness that I have felt for years is because I am grieving the loss of it. I never allowed myself to grieve. Never aloud myself to feel angry. I have never cried for it. I made myself believe that since it was never born, that I need not feel anything for it.
I have been feeling sad and angry about this. Sad because I loss a part of me. I loss my child. I start thinking about what it would have been like if this baby had been born and I cry. I think of how different things would have been. I wonder if I would have had a baby girl or boy. I have this empty hallow feeling inside. This emptiness that nothing can comfort. No matter how much I cried the emptiness is still there. The anger comes from not allowing myself to feel anything. For being so immature. I am also angry for having felt such hate towards this innocent baby.
Today I said a little prayer for him. I allowed myself to cry for the first time. To grieve my loss. I grieve not having had the chance to hold him. I allowed myself to feel for my baby. I apologized for not wanting to feel for his loss and saying that I didn’t want him. I am not a terrible person, I would have loved my baby no matter what.
Since the day of the miscarriage, I had suppressed all my emotions. I try not to feel anything for it. I was so sad, when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want to accept the pregnancy, so for me the miscarriage was good news. Don’t get me wrong, I do love children, but I didn’t want any until later in life, when I was in a stable relationship. When I had worked out some issues in my life and I knew I could provide a child with love.
I look back and remember feeling so relieved that I no longer had to carry that child. His child. After the D&C, I went home from the hospital and slept. The next day I went to work and carried out with my life as if nothing happened. I don’t remember feeling anything. I was in a daze. It was so surreal. If I did, I just worked through it. I tried to keep myself busy, so that I didn’t have to think about it.
Every November, I go about as if nothing. I try not to think about it. I just Thank God that he took it away. Sounds evil, but that is what has kept me somewhat sane.
This year has been different. Maybe that emptiness that I have felt for years is because I am grieving the loss of it. I never allowed myself to grieve. Never aloud myself to feel angry. I have never cried for it. I made myself believe that since it was never born, that I need not feel anything for it.
I have been feeling sad and angry about this. Sad because I loss a part of me. I loss my child. I start thinking about what it would have been like if this baby had been born and I cry. I think of how different things would have been. I wonder if I would have had a baby girl or boy. I have this empty hallow feeling inside. This emptiness that nothing can comfort. No matter how much I cried the emptiness is still there. The anger comes from not allowing myself to feel anything. For being so immature. I am also angry for having felt such hate towards this innocent baby.
Today I said a little prayer for him. I allowed myself to cry for the first time. To grieve my loss. I grieve not having had the chance to hold him. I allowed myself to feel for my baby. I apologized for not wanting to feel for his loss and saying that I didn’t want him. I am not a terrible person, I would have loved my baby no matter what.
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