My anxiety is very bad. Anxiety over getting through each moment. Anxiety that something will happen to my other son. Anxiety over calling the dr to make a follow-up appointment to check my blood pressure. Anxiety over how my marriage will survive this. Anxiety over how I will be an active present mother to Eli. Anxiety over having to face people, leave the house, and see babies. Anxiety over going back to work and having students congratulate me on the baby. Anxiety over eventually getting pregnant again. Or anxiety over being unable to get pregnant again. Anxiety that my husband will not be on the same timeline as me, that I will be too old to have the three (living children) we had planned, since he wants to have a big age gap in between them. Anxiety over taking Eli to school or activities and having to face people, but also anxiety over being forgotten and ignored, and people getting impatient with my pain and my grief, as I become increasingly isolated. Anxiety over reading blogs that tell me that grief takes time and is never something you get over but just something you learn to live with. Since I have not accepted this reality, I have not accepted that this is something that will always be with me. Anxiety over losing my job, and anxiety over keeping it. Anxiety over being a good mentor to students and having to face people and function. Anxiety over having no plan and also anxiety over making a plan that is meaningless, cannot involve Sidney and the hopes and dreams that I had already invested in him. Everything reminds me of him, I’d already imagined him into every detail of our lives. Eli would have been such a good big brother and that got taken from him too. Everything I can think of to do as a coping mechanism normally is too linked with Sidney. I imagined walking with him on my chest, reading books as he nursed, a whole summer of Eli, Sidney and I together, at parks, interacting with all the other families that I knew who were also expecting babies. How do I go on in this new reality? My heart cannot accept it, my mind cannot grasp it. Playing with Eli is painful but I do not want to isolate myself from him too. Eventually, my husband will have to go back to work, and I will be alone with my pain, with my guilt, with my heartbreak. I am terrified of what the autopsy results will reveal. Either, there will be a specific cause, something where ‘what ifs’ would actually have led to a different scenario, and that will be devastating for me to accept, and will intensify my tendency to blame myself. Or it will be genetic, and I will fear it happening again in the future. Or there will be no known cause, which will also be hard for me to accept, but maybe the outcome I am hoping for.
I am also irritable, which I don’t fully understand why I am experiencing. I am angry that my department did not send a condolence card. Angry that they won’t understand or consider this real grief. Angry that my mother is not helping in a way I want, but I guess I don’t know what way it is that I want. Angry. Angry. Angry. I refuse to accept this. I want little Sidney on my arms and in my chest. They say this never happens, so how could it have happened? How could it be real? Please make it not real. I need you Sidney. I love you, my dear beautiful Sidney Louis. My love. The baby I longed for, ached for, and tried to nurture inside of me. I need you. NEED. ACHE. LONGING. LOVE. Now what do I do?