So today is October 13th. 10/13/07 was supposed to be my due date. I could potentially have a 3 year old child. That can't be right can it? Wow, I think it is. A three year old. Damn.
I imagine a little boy with shaggy brown hair just like his dad's running around my apt chasing the cats or getting into something. He's like a little ghost that lives with me and reminds me of what I don't have. I only see him once in a while in the corner of my eye or disappearing through a door but I can always feel him around me. Helping me. Haunting me. Keeping me company whether I want it or not. Peering over my shoulder, I glimpse him sometimes and ask why he stays around. I never seem to get an external answer but my heart tells me I haven't moved on from the loss. I sometimes see him in my backseat when I am running an errand just looking back at me with the eyes I get from my father. I would think his hair would turn strawberry in the summer when we play outside and his smile reminds me of my middle brother. He is stubborn and goofy and silly and smart. He is independent and affectionate and loves attention. He is an amalgam of my family and my husband's family. He would probably grow up to love sports of some kind, since it is something we enjoy so much, and get excited to see my father in law on TV on the sidelines of a game. My dad would teach him goofy words and which teams to root for. Probably buy him a baseball and cap. It is impossible to tell which of our mothers would spoil him more because both are such nurturing, loving souls. When I go to the store the tiny Halloween socks and UT jerseys beckon me to buy them for someone I no longer have.
Of course this is all just in my imagination. He was never able to experience any of those things. Neither was I. Neither was my husband. Neither was our family.
Sometimes I get upset to feel him around me and guess the things he would love and cherish. Sometimes it comforts me because for a small moment I can imagine he is with me. Most often it just makes me sad to think of who he could have been and what he could have done. I would love to watch him become his own person. Maybe in mind he will. Maybe as I grow older so will my ghost. To be honest I can't tell if I want that to happen or not. I think the healthy thing would be to accept what has happened and grieve and eventually these delusions will fade away. But am I not grieving now? Have I not accepted this already? Maybe I am kidding myself. Maybe I haven't processed anything and these thoughts and images are all part of a crazy coping strategy I have come up with to keep myself from feeling worst. Maybe it has finally happened and I snapped and am so crazy that I see my child running after me throughout my day.
No matter which is true, I still find it unsettling even when I don't mind that he is around.
How can someone truly feel happiness with a ghost staring at them with eyes that ask them why? How can you laugh and smile honestly when your heart is so heavy? How can you look through your child and know you will never know who they were and get out of bed in the morning? Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I lay in my bed curled in a ball feeling cold and alone. Sometimes I fake it. Sometimes I try to push it out of my mind and pay attention to something easier. Sometimes I trick myself. Sometimes I almost feel like things are gonna be ok. But every time I do I catch that little ghost boy out of the corner of my eye with hair like his dad and a smirk on his face and I collapse all over again. I feel it all over again. I fall backwards into my depression and sit there until I find the strength to climb my way back out. It is a slow, difficult cycle that drains my emotions and pulls at my fibers until I feel like I have been unraveled on the floor and I lay there staring at the ceiling wondering what would have been.
I am at least lucky to have friends and family who are loving and supportive when I reach out to them.
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