Mish Mash

Bleh.

It's been 10 months since Joseph was born and nearly 10 months since he died. That means, now he's been dead for longer than he was alive and that right there is just so fucking fucked up.

I thought I could put the anger at bay. But I can feel it rising and it's harder to contain. I'm not the crying kind, it's hard for me to do that. I did that earlier on. But, my emotions come out in anger, always have really. Maybe it would be more productive to cry than lash out in anger. Anger scares me now more than ever. I'm not violent, but I can feel it's toxicity within.

I thought I was actually doing OK. The 10 month mark of his birthday kind of came and went and I figured somehow, that it was all becoming nice and integrated like. But. No. It’s all still as fucked up as it was one month out, two months out, 6 months out. He’s dead. I’m without one of my children. My beautiful, precious, most wanted Joseph is gone. But, where is he? And that is what I just cannot get my head around.

I get the birth. I get the major fuck ups and medical negligence. I remember and totally understand what it means and feels to hold my dying and dead son in my arms. But, where the fuck is he? Part of me still feels like I’m still searching. Will I be searching forever?

I know what it feels like to lose all my grandparents. They’re all gone. My father’s mother’s ashes are currently in a box on the piano at my folks place. She was 90 something (sorry glow mesh Grandma, I can't remember your exact age, maybe 94?). She lived a good life. All was in order.

My mother’s parents died within two or three years of each other. Senior citizens, but not 90 something. However, all was in order. I miss my Nana like crazy. Still. But, all is in order. I get that their bodies expired through old age and cancer.

But Joseph?

What the hell?

He was a newborn! Where is the order in that I ask you?

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I went to my cousins wedding on Saturday. It was the 15th October. Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. The next day was 10 months since Joseph's birth.

I was having a gay old time until the nuptials. And it came from nowhere (well, somewhere I guess). Suddenly I had tears in my eyes, my heart was in my throat and I felt like I couldn't breath. I grabbed hold of Dwayne that little bit tighter and whispered to him "he's never going to have this" and in my mind I saw all these life events flash before my eyes that he is going to miss. That we are going to miss. It's the life sentence talked about in this brilliant article.

So, I suck it up, get drunk and try to keep the tears at bay. And by Sunday, Monday and today, they've turned into anger.

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I watched Eden and Augie today painting, running round naked in a little pool, having fun. And, while I love to watch them doing normal kid stuff, getting dirty, wet and tired, I feel like I can only see that Joseph is missing. I carry on, chatting to lovely friends, but the internal heart and mind dialogue is so loud. It overpowers my efforts to stay present with my friends and the 2 little boys of mine having fun. And, well, it's just bloody exhausting. It really is. I get home and I'm spent. I worry about how people can sustain a friendship with me. When I know my baby is dead, and they know my baby is dead. It becomes the elephant in the room. Huge and obvious, but unspoken. I don't want to be pitied. I just want to go back to normal, to the time when there was no elephant. And I love elephants, but just not this one.

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There was a raging thunderstorm here a couple of weeks ago. I love thunder and lightening. I love counting in between the lighting and the thunder to see how close it is. This day there was almost no delay between the two. It was close, practically over the house and SO loud. The windows were rattling and the floor rumbling. It was fantastic.

Xavier and I were talking about our lovebomb day. I worry about anxiety with him. I worry that he doesn't talk or ask about Joseph. We were quietly chatting and I said I have a new book for him and his brothers.

"Would you like me to read it to you?"

"Yes", he said.

So I did. We arrived at the page where the little boy is listening/touching his mother's pregnant belly.

"Joseph was in my tummy like in the picture Xavier"

"Like we have photos of me and the babies touching your tummy?"

"You remember that do you Xavier?"

"Yes. Can I see it?"

I hadn't looked at any photos of myself pregnant with Joseph since he was born. I have alot on my computer and alot on face.b.ooks, but I just haven't been able to look at them. But, as he asked (and he doesn't ask often, or talk about Joseph much, at all), I felt I owed it to him. So, I took a breath and showed him this...

Beautiful isn't it? He's so incredibly dreamy in this photo. I love the light and have always felt he was very connected with this baby, before he was even born.

Then I started reading ‘When Dinosaurs Die’ and got to the page with a picture of a dinosaur in a hospital bed.

"That's like our baby, she's at the doctors too"

"No he’s not matey, not at the doctors. Do you know what dead means?"

"Yeah, it means she's at the doctors"

"No, dead means your heart stops beating, and your brain stops working and you don't breath anymore. Joseph died and he's not coming back and that's why sometimes I'm sad"

"Maybe he’s with the thunderstorm and he’s scared and he’s saying wah wah wahaaaaa ‘I just want my mummy’"

He looked expectantly at me, like I can get Joseph back. And it feels like he’s also looking for tears in my eyes. And in that moment, I can see it all. I can see the night terrors in the early months. I can see the incessant picking at his arms (self soothing I'm told). I can see the moodiness. I can see the anxiety and worry and reluctance to let me go at every. single. drop off at kinder so far this year. It's all there in that moment. He doesn't ask. He doesn't talk about it, because he just wants Joseph back too. He doesn't want to ask me about it because he doesn't want to see me cry. And, he doesn't want to see me cry because he might just think it's his fault. No matter how much I've told him in the last 10 months that none of this is his fault. That the tears are mine and not his and nothing to do with anything he's done. He still carries the burden.

And there's a whole lot of shitty mish mash right there.