Guilting my way through the Grieving Process

Oftentimes the sadness hits me suddenly and without much warning, not that warning would soften the blow. Yesterday was a pretty good day, never feeling especially sad but never feeling especially happy either. Just living in the moment like so many before me have suggested. It’s surprising how well that allows the hours to pass by uneventfully.

The problem with an uneventful day, emotionally, is usually by the end of it I feel guilty for not feeling bad enough. So I begin to wallow and read about other people’s sorrows until mine is palpable again.It’s like I need to make sure I can still feel the pain, that I’m not a monster who doesn’t care about her unborn child.

I have a lot of guilt. I feel like I deserve to be crying all day in complete misery for what I’ve done. I’m overwhelmed with the notion that a better mother would’ve called sooner, would’ve sense the imminent danger her baby was in and would’ve been compelled to help before it was too late.

What was I waiting for? Why did I put it off? I really don’t understand this minor detail of time. I find myself hoping she died on Monday so I can tell myself no one would’ve assumed anything that soon after a successful doctor’s appointment. But that doesn’t address why I didn’t ask why her heartbeat seemed slow to me that day. I thought it was slow but I didn’t even bother asking. Yes, I assumed they would’ve noticed if something was wrong but I’m the mother, I’m the one with intuition. Supposedly.

Monday night I was so distracted, arguing with my husband, having a stressful dinner with my family trying not to look stressed, getting through dinner. Yet there it was in the back of my mind, Olivia’s not very active tonight…

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