Battles

It’s been a while but I’ve been battling. Battling to stay afloat, battling to understand, battling to live. Every time you step forward the guilt of doing so is overwhelming, you then take 2 steps back. Right now can I see light at the end of this tunnel? No I can’t. 

It is International Women’s Day today. I see all these posts celebrating women, and it’s a wonderful thing. I don’t feel connected to it. I don’t feel I deserve celebrating. I feel like a woman who couldn’t fulfill the job her body was designed for. I look at the women and they are beautiful in their strength, courage, nature. I don’t feel beautiful, I feel defective. I look at myself and see the woman who’s body failed, and worse it didn’t fail me, it failed Evelyn. She didn’t deserve that. I’ve started to think would it be better to have it all taken away, no chance of me ever doing that to another child, take away my womb, my ovaries. Our bodies can be cruel. My first period after pregnancy came the very next day after Evelyn died. It was as if it was closing the book on motherhood, cruelly reminding me now, on a monthly basis, it’s over. 

I feel ugly. Evelyn was beautiful. Being a childless mother is not beautiful, it’s intrinsically ugly. It was beautiful that I had a baby, mothers are so incredibly beautiful, but I don’t have her anymore, that’s brutally ugly. I feel like I stand out a mile, a mother’s body without a child. A woman’s body changes, mine certainly has. I have my c-section scar, the little belly overhang you get due to that, my boobs are bigger and less perky. I’m carrying more weight than I ever have, my fitness will take time, my previously toned muscles will take time, my physical strength will take time. All of this is a new person standing in front of the mirror, a new person I don’t want to be, I wanted to be the new person looking at herself with Evelyn in her arms; proud of the changes in my body.

I just wanted to finish this by explaining why I write this. I try to hide behind new tattoos, new hair, new clothes, make up. Try to hide my ugliness. Often people tell me how great I’m looking, how well I’m looking. I am hiding behind a mask. I appreciate you all so much for your support and the kindness you show me. I put the mask on so as not to be a burden. When I say I’m not great I see it in your eyes that you just want to help and you feel helpless. I can’t tell you the whole truth to your faces as I see how, by being only slightly honest, it hurts you. I know that comes from a place of love and I understand your reaction. The feeling of being a burden comes from my own mental illness, that’s not your fault. I write this so that I can share how I’m truly feeling without seeing the pain in your eyes, so I can be truly honest.