It IS what happened, though. I DID have a dead baby. My body, with some help from Matt's, made a baby, grew it, carried it for 36+ weeks, and in the end what it produced was a dead baby. That was the end product. So my body failed; it absolutely did. Operation: Have A Baby was a compete and utter failure.
Unless of course someone thinks that having a dead one was the implication in that mission statement.
Let me assure you that it was not.
So I get to feel like by body is a failure. Whenever I want to. A whole, entire, two legs, two arms, torso and head all attached dead baby came out of my body. I carried her, dead, inside of me for a whole week. Then I went through labor for eight hours and I delivered a whole, entire dead baby.
A beautiful, pink, muscles tensed, ball of live screaming baby was supposed to come out. One that cries and sighs and sleeps and eats and poops. One that makes me happy and want to tear my hair out, one that grows and smiles and does all of those things that makes everyone love and want to hold babies.
Instead a whole baby body came out of me. A completely silent baby. One that was all floppy and neither felt nor looked nor smelled anything like a baby. Instead of life there was skin falling off, blisters where she had taken on water, a very bulbous and deformed head and blood seeping out of her nose. Her ears were bent over, never to be straight, and she was completely the wrong color and smell.
In addition, I have not done much in this world. Yes, I am a mother. Of one little girl and one dead baby. I do not define myself entirely by that job that I do. I do it and that is that. To be clear, I do not mean anything negative to anyone who's great satisfaction in life is that of being a mother. Everyone is entitled to their own "this is what fulfills me" thing. Being a mother is not who I am. It is something that I do.
And let's see how that's been going:
My child cries every day. Usually there is some screaming involved. And some throwing herself bodily somewhere. Occasionally, or more often than that, this occurs in public. Regardless, my child cries every day. Every day. There is something wrong with that and since I am the primary caretaker, since I am the mother, that failure falls to me.
Just in case you're thinking that way, no, she does not cry because she has a dead sister.
However, she does occasionally say things like: I just want to hold my baby sister. I just want a baby. I just want to be God (because we had to give her little sister to Him so that He can take care of her).
Also, now that she witnessed my sadness at the graveside, etc., she constantly asks things like: Are you happy? Are you mad?
Yes, mad. Why? Because if I tell her I am not mad, then she proceeds to do something, anything, that she thinks will make me so. Isn't that awesome? That is the kind of person I am apparently raising. One that looks for ways to upset people.
Please do not misunderstand me. I know (do I ever and more than most) that I am incredibly lucky to have my one living child. I am just also acutely aware that right now I am totally failing her. I am not sure how I am, but it is abundantly clear that I am. Which is why it is a failure: I don't know what I am doing wrong so it isn't like I'll be able to fix it or change it.
And no, I am not talking about grief because overall I am doing okay there. People think that if I have even one negative thought that it must be because of my grief from having a dead baby. Um, nope. If you knew me before then you know that I am not all sunshine and rainbows. Nor am I all storm clouds and tornados. I'm just normal. And I feel all of the things that normal people do. If something I feel is not on the happy side it is not always going to be"because of grief". Sometimes, but not always.
I get to have not-so-happy thoughts. I get to have more than some people and less than others. I get to have them. I do not have to show this facade of happiness all the time just because people will assume that if I am unhappy is it solely because I had a dead baby. Sure, that makes me sad every day. But it is not the only driving force in my emotions nor is it my only emotion.
I guess I am just trying to say that I am normal to feel these things. Not strange or depressed or in need to psychiatric help - I'm a normal person feeling completely normal things in regard to my life as I live it.
Again, please do not assume or misunderstand me. I like my life. I enjoy living in the cold, cold north. I like living all over the world. I am very lucky to get to do so. But let's get real. It is not I who makes these opportunities available to me. It is my husband. So while I like and enjoy my life in the world very much, I am also very aware that nothing that I have done has made this happen. I am living this life by default, by hanging on his coat-tails. It is like cherry-picking in basketball. Not a grand appreciated thing.
So that is how I am feeling right now. I think these thoughts and feelings are normal for me. In my life. Doing and experiencing what I do and experience every day.