Being Numb

Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

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Things are still hard four months later. Grief is showing herself in such interesting ways but mainly I feel numb.

As we pursue surrogacy I rarely get my hopes up. Sometimes at night I will lay in bed and dream of what that path could possibly look like. I allow myself to do this with just my husband. He gets the pain. In these quiet dark moments I let myself feel hope. We ask ourselves, “Will we ever be parents?” We chat of loving scenarios our future could hold and think for a bit that we are not broken inside. But we are. These moments only happen in such a short amount of time because when I rollover in bed, there she is on the self... our daughter’s ashes. And I am brought right back to reality.

I was talking to someone recently and they started crying and immediately got embarrassed. I laughed and mentioned how often I cry in public now. It's kind of like my thing!  Triggers are literally everywhere and I think they might always be. I was in line at the grocery store behind a beautiful pregnant woman. I could barely even look in her direction. I listened to the cashier ask about how she felt. I held my breath during her response as I know how she feels. I want to be happy for her and yet my grief is too heavy for me to hold in these moments. I kept it together until I got to the car where I was alone. I ugly cried for a few minutes and then pulled myself together. Using the rear view mirror I wiped the tears off and sprayed my face with rose water. I took a few deep breaths and told myself, “I can do hard things.” and then drove myself to work. I feel like that is what I do now. I cry and then I can get back to life as if nothing has happened. I never knew I had it in me to do that. And the shift of emotions happens so quickly that it simply turns into numbness. How can I be a blubbering mess one minute and then have a normal conversation  the next? This shuffle of emotions has led me to be desensitized. I can simply just put away whatever I am feeling and act like it never happened. I never imagined this.

I hope for a future as a mother. These dreams still live within me but they make everything ache when I let myself actually feel them. I have always been such a positive person and now I feel a shift in that. Things can go terribly wrong and I have experienced that first hand. It has become difficult to see the bright side of everything. I feel like my personality has evolved into something new. I now focus on protecting my heart and the result of this is that I do not feel much… at all.

Everyday I think of Clementine. I swim in the memory of holding and kissing her nose. Those thoughts take me into a place where I am blissful and devastated all at once. I can feel the weight of her in my arms and then the weight of my heart becomes much heavier. I can have long stretches of time where I don’t remember what tragedy I am working through. Sometimes I even forget that this is my story. That part also brings up guilt. It feels like I am losing pieces of her. The farther away we get from her death the less I remember. I want to hold onto everything I can. But living in that space is depressing. I do not want to be the woman that dwells only in her sadness. Its like I  can close a door to a part of who I am while leaving a numb and bleak one open. 

I have been practicing telling the story of how Clementine came to be. This helps me feel not alone as I try to find others like me. When this happens I can feel myself turn into this different person. It’s like a part of me steps out of my body so the strong part can get through this without drowning in tears. And then when the story is over, my heartbroken self steps back in. I listen to the words coming out and think, “What a sad story. That poor woman.” People often reply with the usuals: “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine. You are so strong.” I think yes, that woman is strong, and that is sad. How can she keep going? But it is my strength and my sadness we are discussing yet it genuinely feels like we are talking about someone else. I often wish it were someone else. When I update others on our journey everyone gets excited that we are still trying. It is as if I am not letting them down by giving up. Everyone knows how much I want to be a mother and no one likes a quitter. I know others want me to succeed but it is frightening to think about going through this. I want to succeed! The questions are never far from my thoughts. What if something bad happens again? Do you keep putting your heart out there and let it be broken over and over? Should we still try?

All I can really do is focus on what is working for right now. 

And right now that means a few things. I am currently rewatching Friends, eating well, and taking a lot of baths.I love writing in my bullet journal. I am limiting my social interactions as so many things turn me into a sobbing mess in public. Lizzo is listened to daily for self love. I am meditating daily, listening to multiple books and trying not to put too much on my plate. My priorities are drastically changing. I am actually practicing self care in a way that I have always wanted to, just under circumstances I never envisioned for myself. 

I am still moving forward though. It is what I know I must do. I don’t want to drink my life away, or sleep all day, or fall into a dark hole of depression. I know that is not healthy but let me tell you that it is quite tempting. Something good has to come along, right? It is going to be our turn to have a win, right?  So… while I work and wait for those pleasant moments in life I fill my days with the things I am supposed to do. I check off things from my to do list. I keep in touch with my support system. I only listen to a bit of the news… and I keep my head up, even with tears.