Last night I had a cruel dream. I've had a few of these lately and they seem to be getting more frequent. In the dream I have a baby. The baby is mine. I hold it and feed it. I look at it, I lay it in a crib. I kiss on it and touch it. The baby morphs and changes shape, growing older or younger, getting chubbier or skinnier. All the while I am kind-of lacking in emotion about the whole thing. I can't feel joy or pain... nothing. It's just the actions. It's just me and the baby going through the motions. The baby isn't necessarily Wolfie, but in the dream I know that this is my baby.
I had these kinds of dreams all the time when I was pregnant. I think most women do, whether they've already had children or not. At the time I loved them and I thought it was indicative of a psychological connection to my little one I was carrying. I would wake up with a warm fuzzy feeling, rub my belly, feel Wolfie moving around or kicking and usually talk to Ben about how I just couldn't wait for him to arrive.
Now, it's bittersweet. While it's wonderful to get to experience these things in an emotionless dream-state, I eventually have to wake up not only to reality but to my true emotions. Why do the dreams continue in the face of my loss?
The dreams are somewhat connected to this other feeling that I have a lot now in reality. It's a perception I have of myself. Sometimes I just feel like I'm the "alternate" in the alternate universe somewhere. I feel like somewhere, far away, the "real" Brooke is taking care of Wolfie, getting spit up on, doing endless loads of cloth-diaper laundry and being a real mom. I feel like I'm the alternate. The ghost of the real Brooke. The side of the story that went wrong and split off from the main branch. In the air there lingers a scent... like a transparency laid over my actual life... that I'm supposed to be a mom right now. That I'm supposed to act and be different. This universe can feel the other one. It wants to even base decisions on it.
For a split second I want to say, "No, I can't do that right now because I'm a mom now and moms don't do that." This could be about anything from getting drunk to couch hopping. Childless, married women can do things that moms typically can't. I have a hard time remembering that I am still childless. My natural inclination is stuck to the alternative universe. I'm stuck on a ghost, a transparency of a life that wasn't to be. It was all planned out. The fantasies were all played out, too. Our plans and hopes and dreams and ideas of having a child.... all those things in reality come with things, responsibilities, chores, limitations.
It's hard to shake it. It's hard to accept that I don't have those things. It's hard to get drunk or go couch hopping because it just doesn't feel "right". Like, it's going against the natural order of things.
Get married.
Enjoy marriage.
Get pregnant.
Enjoy pregnancy.
Have baby.
Be a mom and do "mom" things.
Enjoy being a mom.
Raise family.
Enjoy family.
My alternate universe:
Get married.
Enjoy marriage.
Get pregnant.
Enjoy pregnancy.
Have baby.
Lose baby.
Total confusion. Plans derailed. Go back to step 2. Uh what?
Maybe the dreams are working hand in hand with this weird universe I'm in. I mean, the road's not supposed to be easy, is it? I keep feeling like one day I'll wake up from reality. I'll gasp for air, roll over and touch Wolfie as he sleeps in our co-sleeper, glance at my snoring husband, breathe a sigh of relief... "oh thank goodness it was all a dream" and go back to a peaceful sleep.
No no. I'm well aware that I'm living in reality, friends. It's just a strange thin feeling I have sometimes. Or maybe it's a fantasy. Or maybe it's a dream.
I have cruel dreams and I live in the original universe. I lost my baby and I'm dealing with that. My life was not meant to be so simple. I don't follow the natural order of things.
I know what cruel dreams feel like. So very very different from yours. But I understand it. For months after my mom died, I would have dreams of her coming in the back door with groceries. "Where were you?", I would cry. "I went to the store. The lines were long." Or I'd come upon her sitting on the couch. "There you are", she say, "listen to this paragraph."
ReplyDeleteI think that everyone who loses someone prematurely feels that thinness, that otherness, that sensation of walking around in an alternate place. It's like the clanging of a bell, even after it's stopped being rung, one can still hear and feel the reverberations.
I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child in the way that you did. It's something so profoundly sorrowful. I have literally wept for you and Ben. Why do I say that? I guess...I just want you to know that even though we (If I may be so bold as to generalize), your friends and family who love you, can't ever really grasp the enormity of the pain you have been through, we are all HERE. Holding onto your elbows, rushing to bring you a pillow for your back if you need it, tissues for tears, hot tea for soothing.
The main thing I hope you know is that you don't need to DO anything. Just be. I hope you know that the main thing you need to do is be at peace and allow yourself plenty of time to heal. I guess this all sounds like a mixture of platitudes and clichés. It's just...you are enough. Where you are now, what you are walking though now. You are enough.
Love you.
I get the conundrum. What a tough place to be! You know, back in the days of couch surfing and bar hopping, most of us were living a carefree life. It's hard to revert back to those habits after such a life changing event. Things may not look different, you may not have a baby in your bassinet, but things are different. You are a mother. A mother with empty arms, but a mother. I pray that you can find rest in who you are as a wife, as a mom, and who you are through this loss. One thing that I do know, is that you are a blessing to me. In so many ways. I am so thankful for your friendship. You inspire me.
ReplyDeleteCatching up on your blog...
ReplyDeleteI don't understand our dreams, our realities and our worst fears made real. It's a scary, mysterious thing it seems. To have peace one moment and pain the next. A floor creaking under us and can give at any moment. I do wonder about the layers. There are times where life seems cruel. Are we just moving targets that are randomly hit with loss and pain? How do we go on? Why? But then there are the spontaneous joys too. The whole story plays out with lots of side plots.
Making me think girl. Love your heart poured out on this blog. Keep writing.